Lamentations 101 (Lamentations 1:1)

What book begins “How lonely sits the city that was full of people?” Lamentations

The Babylonian conquest of Jerusalem and its citizens’ subsequent deportation represents a watershed moment in biblical history. This military loss not only marks a horrifying political defeat but also carries profound sociological and theological overtones. Jerusalem is far more than a mere city to its residents; it connotes the nation’s religious core and is viewed as the very residence of the divine presence. As such, when the blow is struck not only is the disaster itself felt but also the seeming indifference of God. The magnitude of the crippling loss cannot be underestimated.

Paul Joyce (b. 1954) assesses:

Israel’s entire symbol system had been torn away, and the people had experienced a complete loss of meaning. That structure of belief was centred on divine election, and, pressing the image of the bereaved widow [Lamentations 1:1c], we could even say that Israel had lost her “husband,” God himself. (Joyce, “Lamentations and the Grief Process: A Psychological Reading”, Biblical Interpretation, 1 (3), 310)

Lamentations is a response to this catastrophe. The book is a compilation of five poems which correspond to its five chapter divisions. The anonymous anthology is traditionally attributed to the prophet Jeremiah (presumably based upon II Chronicles 35:25). The first four entries are acrostics formatted around the Hebrew alphabet as if to chronicle the nation’s pain from A to Z. This arrangement also lends itself to corporate worship.

Eugene H. Peterson (b. 1932) recaps:

The lament...goes through the disaster, over and over, five distinct times, line by line in excruciating detail: rape, humiliation, mockery, sacrilege, starvation, and worst of all, cannibalism (mothers boiling the their babies for supper!)...The lament continues to be chanted still in the prayers of the Jewish community in August of each year (Ninth of Ab in the Hebrew calendar) on the anniversary of the terrible event. (Peterson, The Jesus Way: A Conversation on the Ways That Jesus Is the Way, 151)

Naturally, the tone of the book is grim. God is silent, the degree of suffering is presented as unwarranted and the prospects of redemption are kept at a minimum. The desolation seems complete.

The chronology of Lamentations’ entries is unknown though R.B. Salters suspects:

We do not know which of the five poems was the first to be written, but chapter 1 is, perhaps, the most striking, and it may be for this reason that it is placed at the beginning of the group. (Salters, Lamentations: A Critical and Exegetical Commentary (International Critical Commentary), 30)

This opening stanza is divided evenly into two parts (Lamentations 1:1-11, 12-22). Paul W. Ferris, Jr. (b. 1944) delineates:

Lamentations 1:1-11 ...[is] set...off as a subunit of the twenty-two verse poem by the prevalent use of the third-person feminine singular, referring to the shamed, devastated, and abandoned city. Jerusalem is personified as a widowed queen [Lamentations 1:1] and an unfaithful spouse now bereft of her children [Lamentations 1:2]. This subunit of the lament is presented by a third party, an observer, until the last clause, which transitions to the first person. (Tremper Longman III [b. 1952] and David E. Garland [b. 1947], Jeremiah~Ezekiel (The Expositor’s Bible Commentary), 585)

Hetty Lalleman understands:

In Lamentations 1:1-11 the poet speaks about Jerusalem and laments her fate. In Lamentations 1:12-22 Jerusalem is speaking, and me and my refer to the city. However, these two voices merge and we cannot tell one apart from the other. Throughout the whole chapter someone is voicing the disaster and distress that has come to the fallen city. (Lalleman, Jeremiah and Lamentations (Tyndale Old Testament Commentaries, 335)

Robert Martin-Achard (1919-1989) analyzes:

We can observe in this poem a certain psychological progress. It moves from an objective, external form to a subjective one, because the poet changes his attitude from that of a sympathetic onlooker to being the voice of Zion herself. Even throughout the first part of the narrative there breaks forth in an ejaculatory prayer a deep feeling of distress; ‘O Lord, behold my affliction, for the enemy has triumphed (Lamentations 1:9c) and then, ‘Look, O Lord, and behold, for I am despised’ [Lamentations 1:11]. This prayer contains, as it were, a silent reproach to the Almighty: ‘Lord, how could you permit such a terrible thing to happen?!’(Martin-Achard and S. Paul Re’emi, Amos & Lamentations: God’s People in Crisis (International Theological Commentary), 83)

John Guest (b. 1936) infers:

Judging from his passion and the richness of his detail, we can assume that the writer was an eyewitness to the fall of Jerusalem and was most likely recording his impressions within a reasonable time frame of the actual event. He watches the city from the perspective of the third person for the first half of the dirge and then performs a literary stoke of genius by switching the perspective to the second person in the last half of the work. The shift carries with it a powerful intimacy that invites a personal response from the reader or the listener. (Guest, Jeremiah/Lamentations (Mastering the Old Testament), 356-57)

The dirge’s initial verse relays the city’s plight (Lamentations 1:1).

How lonely sits the city
That was full of people!
She has become like a widow
Who was once great among the nations!
She who was a princess among the provinces
Has become a forced laborer!(Lamentations 1:1 NASB)

Francis A. Schaeffer (1912-1984) summarizes:

In Lamentations 1:1 Jeremiah speaks of the city of Jerusalem: “How doth the city sit solitary, that was full of people!” Jerusalem, a city which used to be close to God, has been changed by the choice of significant men. They have turned away from Him when they knew Him, and now their city is under siege. There is death in the city. (Schaeffer, Death in the City, 35)

The opening verse establishes the book’s tone. F.B. Huey, Jr. (b. 1925) discloses:

Lamentations begins on a mournful note that is sustained throughout the book. Jerusalem had been destroyed by the Babylonians. The once-thriving nation’s commercial and religious center was now devastated and largely deserted. (Huey, Jeremiah, Lamentationshe (The New American Commentary), 450)

The verse is well conceived. Delbert R. Hillers (1932-1999) praises:

The opening stanza (Lamentations 1:1) is one of the most carefully worked out in the book from a formal point of view. The three lines are parallel to each other (so-called “external parallelism”). The first two are linked by repetition of rabbātī...and the third is closely joined to them by the parallel word śārātī...This formal elaborateness marks the importance of the themes introduced. (Hillers, Lamentations (Anchor Bible), 80-81)

Lamentations begins with a discussion of the emptiness of an anonymous city (Lamentations 1:1). The once prosperous locale is deserted, a ghost town as empty as the morale of its former inhabitants. Though names and dates are lacking, it is a thinly veiled reference to the Babylonian exile. There is no doubt that the city in question is Jerusalem.

Tremper Longman III (b. 1952) declares:

The poet does not name Jerusalem at the start, but simply speaks of the city. The name of the city does not have to be spoken; poet and readers would know the identity of the now deserted city of Jerusalem. As today there is no doubt when a New Yorker refers to “the city,” so there is no secret concerning the identity of the city among Judeans. This once bustling place (a city “closely compacted together” [Psalm 122:3]) is now eerily deserted. (Longman, Jeremiah, Lamentations (Understanding the Bible Commentary Series))

Though much has changed since the writing of Lamentations, some things in Jerusalem have remained constant. Harvey Cox (b. 1929) notes the irony:

Today, paradoxically, Jerusalem is hardly lonely, and she may now have too many lovers. In fact, her sadness is that so many people “love her to death.”...Today, as in the era of Jeremiah, it is not easy to separate the religious from the political conflicts that fuel disagreements about Jerusalem...The “Jerusalem question” has exasperated the international community for nearly a century...Today Jerusalem’s political status is still in question. (Cox and Stephanie Paulsell [b. 1962], Lamentations and the Song of Songs (Belief: a Theological Commentary on the Bible), 152-54)

This city will remain a focal point throughout book. Erhard S. Gerstenberger (b. 1932) sketches:

[A] phenomenon in Lamentations, except for chapter 3, is the focus on Jerusalem and Zion, with frequent female personifications of the city, so that her lamenting and pleading voice is quoted directly. The ancients quite easily gave voice and character to various entities...Cities...were incorporated symbols of the people living within the walls. In the ancient Near East they were governed and represented by the main deity of the settlement, often a goddess, like Inanna of Ur, or Ishtar or Isin. Some scholars suppose that personification of Jerusalem also has to do with divine representation. A few Akkadian laments are put into the mouth of the city-goddess, who has to flee and see her temple in shambles. In a similar way Jerusalem mourns the death and suffering of her inhabitants and the destruction of her edifices. (Gerstenberger, Psalms, Part 2 and Lamentations (Forms of the Old Testament Literature), 472)

The unit’s form is no more unique than its impetus. It fits within a genre known as city lament. Tremper Longman III (b. 1952) situates:

Lamentations is best understood as a corporate lament bemoaning the destruction of a city, that is, a “city lament.” As such, the book does not exist in a generic vacuum. There is a well-established genre of city laments known in particular from five compositions that derive from the period of the destruction of the Ur III dynasty (ca. 2100-2000 B.C.) at the hands of invaders from the east and the west. This destruction had a catastrophic effect on the minds of those who survived it. The highly developed and civilized kingdom was the result of a Sumerian renaissance after a period of Akkadian rule that may have considered itself impregnable from attack from the outside world. Ibbi-Sin, the last ruler of the dynasty (ca. 2028-2004 B.C.), actually started his reign in a relatively strong position, but soon he was under siege and was perhaps explanted by Ishbi-Irra of Mari...The destruction of Ur, its temples, and surrounding cities worked deep into the psyche of those who witnessed it. Indeed, five compositions survive that lament the fall of the city. (Longman, Jeremiah, Lamentations (Understanding the Bible Commentary Series))

John H. Walton (b. 1952), Victor H. Matthews (b. 1950) and Mark W. Chavalas (b. 1954) add:

As the fall of Jerusalem became a pivotal point in the history, theology and literature of Israel, the fall of Ur (to an army from the east) at the end of the Ur III Dynasty (about the year 2000) served in the ancient Near East as an illustration of the divine abandonment of a city, resulting in its destruction. The lamentations that memorialize the weeping and the theological reflection on those two great falls are preserved in their respective literatures. Two separate works lament the fall of Ur (known as The Lament over the Destruction of Ur and The Lament over the Destruction of Sumer and Ur). Other city laments exist for Nippur, Uruk, Eridu and Ekimar (though the last three of these are fragmentary). These date to the twentieth century B.C. Unlike biblical lamentations, each of the ancient Near Eastern works includes a decision of the gods to restore the city. Literarily they played a role in the attempts to legitimize a new dynasty...The major theme of these works is that the gods have abandoned the city, thus exposing it to destruction at the hands of the enemy. In poetic detail the distress of the population is described...This despair is reflected in the wondering questions of why they have been treated in this way by the gods and how long their condition will persist. When explanations are offered, the fall of the city is not blamed on offense but simply reflects the fact that change and the shifting of political power is inevitable. (Walton, Matthews, and Chavalas, The IVP Bible Background Commentary: Old Testament, 686)

J. Andrew Dearman (b. 1951) compares:

There are city limits in ancient Near Eastern literature, which are also related to the book of Lamentations...In some of them a prominent place is given to the patron goddess of the city, who mourns the fall of her city. Since there is no counterpart to the patron goddess in Judah (at least not among the circles responsible for the Old Testament), it is possible that the prominence given to personified Jerusalem as “Daughter...Zion” and the symbolic mother of the faithful is the Israelite counterpart to the broader ancient Near Eastern tradition of patron goddesses. Recognition of Jerusalem’s voice and personification is crucial to an adequate grasp of the book’s style and its message. (Dearman, Jeremiah, Lamentations (The NIV Application Commentary))

Lamentations’ personification of the city as a female is normative. Adele Berlin (b. 1943) informs:

The personification of a city as a woman is a common image in prophetic literature, with possible antecedents in Mesopotamian literature and successors in Greek literature—but nowhere is it developed more effectively than in the personification of Jerusalem in this chapter. Here a kaleidoscope of images turns quickly from a lonely widow, to a degraded princess, to a whore, to a rape victim, to a betrayed lover, to an abandoned wife. (Berlin, Lamentations: A Commentary (Old Testament Library), 47)

This analogy complies with its Hebrew grammar. Paul M. Joyce (b. 1954) and Diana Lipton relate:

The personification of Zion as a woman characterizes the first two chapters of the book. It is a feature facilitated by the fact that ir (the Hebrew word for city) is feminine, and is a motif shared with some other biblical books (cf. J.F.A. Sawyer [b. 1938] 1989 on Isaiah). Parallels to the presentation of Jerusalem as a widowed city are to be found in other ancient Near Eastern literature (Chayim Cohen 1973). (Joyce and Lipton, Lamentations Through the Centuries, 27)

The transition is smooth. Adele Berlin (b. 1943) tracks:

Lamentations 1:1-11...[is] a portrait of Jerusalem, destroyed, shamed, and dejected. The picture opens with the unnamed city, sitting empty and alone, in contrast to the thriving metropolis she once was. The image of the city as widow leads to the idea of mourning and abandonment, and it evokes pity. But almost immediately a different set of associations impinges: this apparently pitiful woman had taken lovers, she had acted immorally, and she deserved her punishment. These ideas are not contradictory, but they generate a cognitive and emotional tension that is in play throughout the chapter. (Berlin, Lamentations: A Commentary (Old Testament Library), 49)

Not surprisingly given its condition, the city assumes the posture of mourning. Leslie C. Allen (b. 1935) relates:

In the first line, sits describes a mourning posture. A parallel comes from the experience of Nehemiah who likewise “sat down and wept. For some days I mourned” (Nehemiah 1:4). (Allen, A Liturgy of Grief: A Pastoral Commentary on Lamentations, 35)

R.B. Salters parses this verb:

ישבה...Qal perfect 3rd feminine singular because ‘city’ is feminine. The perfect is to be understood in the sense of the present...The contrasting dirge-like images which follow make it probable that the poet here contrasts the present state of affairs (or at least, the image he wishes to convey) with the past. The verb can have the meaning ‘dwell’ (Psalm 133:1) or ‘remain’ (Genesis 24:55)—and according to the Syrohexapla margin, Symmachus [Second century] understood it as ‘remain’ (ἔμεινεν)—but the poet goes on to paint a picture of a grieving female figure; and sitting (on the ground) characterized ancient mourners (cf. Isaiah 47:1; Ezekiel 26:16). (Salters, Lamentations: A Critical and Exegetical Commentary (International Critical Commentary), 35-36)

The city finds itself isolated (Lamentations 1:1). It is characterized as “lonely”(ESV, NASB, NKJV, NRSV, RSV), “deserted” (CEV, NLT), “solitary” (ASV, KJV), “alone” (HCSB) or “empty” (MSG).

Fred Wood (1921-2010) and Ross McLaren (b. 1952) research:

The word translated deserted (Lamentations 1:1) comes from a Hebrew verb meaning “to be separate, solitary.” In this verse it is an adverb meaning “alone.” Looking at the barren and forsaken city, Jeremiah saw it as isolated, abandoned, and forgotten. His mind turned to a woman whose husband had died and left her alone in the world. (Wood and McLaren, Jeremiah, Lamentations (Holman Old Testament Commentary), 360)

R.B. Salters considers:

Although a noun meaning ‘isolation’, it is in the adverbial accusative position...The word is construed with ישב in Leviticus 13:46; Jeremiah 15:17; Lamentations 3:28. Rashi [1040-1105] interprets ‘bereft of inhabitants’. It may go a bit too far in that the poet later makes reference to priests and maidens on the scene (Lamentations 1:4), but his aim may have been to conjure up an image of desolateness (cf. Isaiah 27:10 regarding the isolation of a besieged city) in contrast with the grandiose past which he goes on to describe. This is the first of several examples of the poet’s tendency to exaggerate. (Salters, Lamentations: A Critical and Exegetical Commentary (International Critical Commentary), 36)

Abraham Ahuviah argues that this Hebrew term, bâdâd, is commonly associated with betach (“secure”) and carries a similar meaning. Thus, he argues that the opening verse of Lamentations should be rendered: “The city that was full of people, that dwelt securely, how like a widow has she become.” (Ahuviah, “How Lonely Sits the City that was Full of People,” Lam 1:1. Beth Mikra, 1979, 24(79), 423-425).

Xuan Huong Thi Pham (b. 1973) counters:

In the context of mourning, the word בדד in Lamentations 1:1a, with the following imagery of widowhood in Lamentations 1:1b, depicts loneliness and desertion rather than solitary security as suggested by Abraham Ahuviah. (Pham, Mourning in the Ancient Near East and the Hebrew Bible, 193)

Robin A. Parry (b. 1969) contextualizes:

The contrast between sitting alone and once being full of people suggests that “alone” here means that her many children (her citizens) are gone. She is childless! The fleeting image of the widow is not pressed, but it could possibly indicate the idea that her husband, YWHH, having abandoned her is like a dead husband. She is now in a very vulnerable position as she has no one who can act as her legal protector. The narrator is seeking to elicit the pity of the audience right from the start. (Perry, Lamentations (Two Horizons Old Testament Commentary), 43)

Though counterintuitive, corporate loneliness is a real possibility. Kamila Blessing (b. 1948) reveals:

A whole people can be alone. The term badad (“be alone”) enters forcefully into descriptions of Israel “alone” in an abandoned land. The people of Jerusalem were described thus during the Babylonian captivity, when most of the people had been deported. For example, Lamentations 1:1 begins, “How alone lies the city that was so great with people, how like a widow...she who had been a princess” (author’s translation). Israel in Babylon was alone in a related sense. (Blessing, Families of the Bible: A New Perspective, 140)

The desolation is accentuated all the more when compared to the city’s past glory, having been “full of people” (Lamentations 1:1b). Glory has passed and its vision and memory are fading quickly.

Kathleen M. O’Connor (b. 1942) asserts:

The city, once “great with people,” swollen with life like a pregnant woman is now alone like a widow (Lamentations 1:1b). The widow in ancient Israel was truly alone. (O’Connor, Lamentations & the Tears of the World, 20)

Frank Moore Cross (1921-2012) probes:

The expression rbty ‘m has traditionally been taken to mean “full of people” and been compared to rbt bnym ’mllh (I Samuel 2:5)...It has been argued that rbty must be taken as the familiar epithet rbt “lady, mistress” (Thomas F. McDaniel [b. 1931] 1968:29-31). The correspondence with rbt bgwym and especially śrty bmdynwt requires this understanding of rbty in my opinion, but I see no reason to exclude a play on alternate idiomatic meanings of rbt in the second colon. (Carol L. Meyers [b. 1942] and Michael Patrick O’Connor [1950-2007], “Studies in the Structure of Hebrew Verse: The Prosody of Lamentations 1:1-22), The Word of the Lord Shall Go Forth: Essays in Honor of David Noel Freedman [1922-2008] in Celebration of His Sixtieth Birthday, 136)

The wasted potential makes the blow all the more harsh. There is a sense that it did not have to be this way.

For Lamentations, the glass is not merely half empty but completely empty. And to make matters worse the glass remains to taunt its former fullness. It is like viewing an old family photo of a house decimated by deaths. Jerusalem finds itself the subject of dramatic, tragic before-and-after photos.

John M. Bracke (b. 1947) correlates:

The scene of reversal, of stunning loss, that these verses lay out is not unfamiliar to us. We know of the reality of which these verses speak. Television has brought into our living rooms poignant pictures of victims of tragedies revisiting what had once been sacred space for them. We have seen those who have survived a tornado or hurricane sifting through the scattered debris with anguish on their faces at the site that was once home for them. We have witnessed persons whose churches have been burned recounting with tears streaming down their cheeks how the smoldering rubble behind them was the place where marriages were celebrated, where infants were received into the church through baptism, and where precious dead were remembered. We have seen war refugees fleeing burning cities in long lines with what few possessions they could salvage strapped on their backs. In these scenes we have ourselves seen the great reversal of fortune described in these initial verses in Lamentations. The joy and glory of the former days are quickly lost and become fond memories of what will never be again. (Bracke, Jeremiah 30-52 and Lamentations (Westminster Bible Companion), 193)

Though on some levels the contemporary reader can relate, there are few analogies that capture the magnitude of pain felt by this one pummeling.

The bleakness of the city’s situation is no more apparent than in its opening exclamation (Lamentations 1:1a). The interjection is consistently rendered “how” (ASV, ESV, HCSB, KJV, NASB, NIV, NJV, NRSV, RSV) or is omitted (CEV, NLT). The prevailing translation does not capture the force of the Hebrew, better reflected in the Message’s paraphrase, “Oh oh oh”.

Hetty Lalleman corrects:

The first verse opens with a cry of lament that can be translated as ‘Alas!’ TNIV, NRSV and NKJV translate as How, but the Hebrew word is more powerful: ‘Alas! She sits alone – the city.’ (Lalleman, Jeremiah and Lamentations (Tyndale Old Testament Commentaries, 336)

The book’s first word engages the reader and sets the tone for the entire work. The word is typical in elegies. Adele Berlin (b. 1943) scrutinizes:

The first word of the chapter, ’êkâ, signals the discourse of lament, as it does also in chapters 2 and 4 [Lamentations 2:1, 4:1]. It is an exclamation of despair that marks a sudden change from a glorious past to the degraded present (cf. Isaiah 1:21; Jeremiah 48:17; Ezekiel 26:17), and the nature of that change is described in the rest of Lamentations 1:1. The pāsēq in the Masoertic Text after ’êkâ, indicating a slight pause, suggests that the word stands slightly apart from what follows it. In that sense, ’êkâ introduces the chapter as a whole. (Berlin, Lamentations: A Commentary (Old Testament Library), 49)

R.B. Salters responds:

The word with which the poet begins is generally thought to be an emphatic form of איך and is found elsewhere at Deuteronomy 1:12, 7:17; Isaiah 1:21 (1QIs reads איך); Jeremiah 48:18 etc., and in this book (Lamentations 1:1, 2:1, 4:1, 2). Hedwig Jahnow [1879-1944] (1923, 136) argues that it conveys desperation and may have been a common beginning to a lament. However, many laments do not begin this way, hence it may just have seemed particularly appropriate to this poet to begin to express the horror which follows. While the word can have an interrogative force (Deuteronomy 12:30; Jeremiah 8:8), it probably has more of an exclamatory function here—Alas! Although not repeated with each line, the force of איכה continues throughout the verse (cf. John Calvin [1509-1564]). H. Wheeler Robinson [1872-1945] (1936, 37-40; cf. BHK, BHS) argues that איכה is unstressed and stands separate from the first stitch, but in this he is not normally followed (cf. Claus Westermann [1909-2000] 1994, 112; Biblia Hebraica Quinta). (Salters, Lamentations: A Critical and Exegetical Commentary (International Critical Commentary), 35)

The word does protrude from the rest of the text as evidenced by its exclusion from the lament’s metrical structure (R.K. Harrison [1920-1993], Jeremiah & Lamentations (Tyndale Old Testament Commentaries), 207).

The term is multi-faceted and conveys a number of sentiments. Kathleen M. O’Connor (b. 1942) elucidates:

With the alarming cry of a funeral dirge the narrator demands our attention in the poem’s opening verse. “How (’ēkāh) lonely sits the city once great with people!” (Lamentations 1:1a). The “how” is a bitter declaration that death has occurred, but as Naomi Seidman [b. 1960] (283) observes, it also implies interrogation—“How could this happen to beloved Zion?” “How is it possible even to speak of this destruction?” To convey the breath-stopping shock of the catastrophe, Seidman proposes the opening ’ēkāh “be pronounced with a catch in the throat.” Tragedy threatens to overcome speech, sobs interfere with words, and trauma pounds back expression as the book’s voices hover in tension between life-denying silence and the life-giving urge to speak. (O’Connor, Lamentations & the Tears of the World, 19-20)

In one word, Lamentations effectively relates the hopelessness and emotions of its historical setting. In fact, one of the book’s traditional titles is its first word. Tremper Longman III (b. 1952) surveys:

In antiquity, the book was referred to by its opening word ’eka (“how?”). The rabbis referred to the book as qinot, the Septuagint (Greek Old Testament) entitled the book Threni, and the Vulgate referred to it as Lamenta—all meaning “Lamentations.” (Longman, Jeremiah, Lamentations (Understanding the Bible Commentary Series))

Upon reflection, its opening exclamation is a fitting title for the book of Lamentations.

What historical catastrophes most closely parallel the significance of the fall of Jerusalem to its residents? Whose sustained greater loss, Job or Jerusalem’s inhabitants during the Babylonian invasion? What books are titled by their opening lines? How important is your city of residence to you? Have you ever frequented a ghost town? What institutions or places do you know who have seen better days? When has a song fully captured the tone of a momentous event? What do you lament? When has corporate lament been practiced in modern times? What are the advantages of public lament?

Lamentations is not typically a favorite text among preachers. The book is a brutally honest complaint or appeal to God that is told by people too broken to mitigate anything. Light is not easily found amidst the sea of Lamentations’ darkness.

Elizabeth Achtemeier (1926-2002) confesses:

We are uncomfortable with tears and lamenting aren’t we? If someone breaks into tears, we try our best to get her to stop crying and to smile again...We do not like sorrow. We either try to avoid it or attempt to do away with it...The scriptures, however, know better...The authors of the Bible make a wide place in their writings for the sorrows and sufferings and pains of human life, because they know that those are part of our daily living and that there is a word from God about those experiences too. (Achtemeier, “Lamentations 1:1-6”, Preaching and Reading the Old Testament Lessons: With an Eye to the New, Cycle C, 213)

As delicate as the subject is and though it is easier to ignore, abject loss must be addressed. Adele Berlin (b. 1943) notices:

The image of the city-woman in her abject state elicits both revulsion and pity. As we watch her, and the poet forces us to watch her, we are torn between ambivalent urges: we cannot bear to look but we cannot turn our eyes away. The more we look, the more we shame her by seeing that which should not be seen. But we must look, for the poet calls upon us to see what has happened to the city and to partake in her suffering. We becomes actors in the “drama” of this chapter. This chapter is a poetic reenactment of the rites of mourning, and we become mourners along with Jerusalem. (Berlin, Lamentations: A Commentary (Old Testament Library), 48)

Lamentations’ opening line is a picture of giving voice to suffering and a window into the book’s intent. Leslie C. Allen (b. 1935) deduces:

The first word, ekhah in Hebrew, traditionally belonged to the funeral dirge and introduced a contrast between a grim present and a good past, a chasm that bereavement had created. Here too it introduces such contrasts. It is a shriek, a scream, “not the kind of scream that comes from fright, but the kind that comes from the deepest grief imaginable. It is a scream that comes when there are no words to express what you feel...It is a scream that rails against logic and fate and everything there is” (Ann Hood [b. 1956], 2008, 139). The Hebrew word is generally translated “how” but is better expanded into How terrible that...! in order to express its emotional intensity. In this case it tells us that the liturgy reader, who here has the role of reporter, is not like a television or radio reporter sent to cover a story and soon to speed away from the scene. He is a member of the mourning community and immersed in the story he tells. His task is to pastorally lead the congregation in giving expression to an overwhelming grief that is equally his own. (Allen, A Liturgy of Grief: A Pastoral Commentary on Lamentations, 35)

In its shift from cry to analogy in its opening line, the book scores a significant achievement. F.W. Dobbs-Allsopp (b. 1962) demonstrates:

The movement from the sequence’s opening primordial scream of “Eikhaaah!” (which is as much a token of glossolalia or pure sound—the kind of preferential ejaculation to which language is so often reduced by extreme suffering—as a semantically weighted word [NRSV’s “How”]) to the articulate speech of the rest of the poetry (“lonely sits the city...”) similarly well symbolizes these poems’ reclamation of language from the wordless garble of anguished speech (cf. Lamentations 2:1, 4:1). And the regaining of voice is fictively and spectacularly enacted in the figure of personified Zion, whom readers literally witness coming to voice over the course of the first two poems, at first slowly and fitfully in abrupt eruptions of entreaty (Lamentations 1:9c, 11c), but eventually with more assurance and fortitude emblematic of her reemergent vitality (Lamentations 1:12-22, 2:20-22). (Dobbs-Allsopp, Lamentations (Interpretation: A Bible Commentary for Teaching and Preaching), 33)

In attaching intelligible words to a horrible predicament, Lamentations provides a pastoral service.

While the suffering is unmitigated within the context of the passage, the text itself is embedded in a larger tradition which celebrates the faithfulness and mercy of God. Lamentations fits within the biblical corpus because it exhibits trust in a deity who permits humans the freedom to honestly grieve and expose the depths of their sorrow. In its venting, the book clings to God as the only hope its readers have left (Job 13:15) and trusting in God’s power rather than human strength is always appropriate.

There is a difference between grief and lament as lament assumes an audience. Lamentations’ underlying presumption is that God is listening. And this assumption is correct.

What topics would you rather ignore than address? What situations have you experienced that were too bleak to sugar coat? Who has given voice to your concerns? To whose suffering can you give voice? Do you have faith that God is listening to your lamentations?

“Healing must always seek to give voice to suffering, and the greater the range of words and meanings we have at our disposal, the clearer the voice becomes.” - Iona Heath in British Medical Journal, 2000 January 8; 320(7227), p. 125

Listening to Jesus’ Donkey (Matthew 21:1-3)

On which animal did Jesus ride into the city of Jerusalem? A donkey [The foal of an ass, KJV]

In contrast to is his usual low key mode of operating, all four canonical gospels depict Jesus’ final entry into Jerusalem as occurring before a substantial and enthusiastic crowd (Matthew 21:1-11; Mark 11:1-11; Luke 19:28-44; John 12:12-19). In short, Jesus makes an entrance. Jesus’ approach to the Holy City marks a major turning point in Matthew’s gospel and in many ways begins the Passion narrative. Often referred to as the “Triumphal Entry”, the church commemorates the event annually on Palm Sunday.

In preparation for his entry, Jesus’s gives very explicit instructions to his followers on where to secure his ride: Jesus will enter Jerusalem atop a donkey. .

When they had approached Jerusalem and had come to Bethphage, at the Mount of Olives, then Jesus sent two disciples, saying to them, “Go into the village opposite you, and immediately you will find a donkey tied there and a colt with her; untie them and bring them to Me. If anyone says anything to you, you shall say, ‘The Lord has need of them,’ and immediately he will send them.” (Matthew 21:1-3 NASB)

Donald Senior (b. 1940) summarizes:

Jesus prepares for his entry into Jerusalem by sending two disciples into the village to procure a donkey and a colt (Matthew 21:2-3). The whole tone emphasizes Jesus’ messianic authority—he commands the disciples; they do exactly what he says; and everything is as “the Lord” predicts. (Senior, Matthew (Abingdon New Testament Commentaries), 230)

The city where the disciples procure the donkey is undetermined as Jesus refers only to the “village opposite” (Matthew 21:2). Grant R. Osborne (b. 1942) contemplates:

It is difficult to know whether Jesus sent the two disciples to Bethphage (D.A. Carson [b. 1946]) or Bethany (Donald A. Hagner [b. 1936], David L. Turner [b. 1949]). The text could point to either. It is also difficult to know whether Jesus had made prior arrangements or knew supernaturally that the donkeys would be there. Either way, he deliberately plans the event as a messianic fulfillment, possibly connected with three passages: Zechariah 14:4, which prophesied Yahweh would stand on the Mount of Olives on the day of the Lord...the lion of Judah (Genesis 49:10-11, a messianic figure within Judaism) who “tethers his donkey...[and] colt” (so John Nolland [b. 1947]), and David’s return to Jerusalem (after his son Absalom...forced him to flee) on a donkey in II Samuel 15:30-31, 16:1-2 (so R.T. France [1938-2012], Stanley Hauerwas [b. 1940]). (Osborne, Matthew (Zondervan Exegetical Commentary on the New Testament), 753-54)

W.F. Albright (1891-1971) and C.S. Mann (b. 1917) explain the vagueness:

At first sight, this little incident is full of mystery. This account is one of many in the gospels in which the relevant circumstances were still so well known to the people when the oral tradition became fixed that they were not included. This can be very baffling for the reader in search of exact biographical detail. The high incidence of background information which is assumed or omitted as taken for granted is eloquent proof of the immediacy of the New Testament material—the transmitters of the oral tradition were not concerned beyond the immediate accuracy of transmission. (Albright and Mann, Matthew: A New Translation with Introduction and Commentary (The Anchor Bible), 251)

Whatever city the disciples frequent, their mission is to secure an ónos, a “donkey” (CEV, ESV, HCSB, MSG, NASB, NIV, NKJV, NLT, NRSV) which some translations render with the more antiquated “ass” (ASV, KJV, RSV) and its colt, polos (Matthew 21:2). In this era, the donkey was bred as a beast of burden and was a prominent means of distributing goods (Matthew 21:2, 5, 7; Luke 13:15; John 12:15).

W. D. Davies (1911-2001) and Dale C. Allison, Jr. (b. 1950) define:

ὄνος (most often for hamôr in the LXX) means ‘donkey’ (male of female; here the latter.) πωλος (cf. ‘ayir, ‘he ass’) according to Walter Bauer [1877-1960] means ‘horse’ or, when used in conjunction with another animal, ‘young animal’. But Heinz-Wolfgang Kuhn [b. 1934]...and Otto Michel [1903-1993]...have established that the word standing by itself, can mean ‘ass’...Rabbinic literature makes the ass a messianic animal. Zechariah 9:9 was the key text in this development. It in turn arose out of the use of the ass in the ancient Near Eastern royal ceremony. I Kings 1:33 (cf. I Kings 1:38) supplies an Old Testament example: Solomon rode on David’s ass to Gihon to be anointed king (cf. II Samuel 18:9, 19:26). For the mules of nobility see Judges 5:10, 10:4, 12:13-14; II Samuel 13:29. Riding on a mule for ceremonial entry into a city is already an established act of kingship in ARM 6.76, a text from the royal archives of Mari; ANET 1, pp. 44-7, translates a Sumerian text (‘Gilgamesh and Agga’) in which those ‘who are raised with the sons of the kings’ are referred to as those who ride donkeys. (Davies and Allison, Matthew 19-28 (International Critical Commentary), 116-17)

John Nolland (b. 1947) adds:

In Mark there is a single animal.: ‘a πωλον tied up [masculine form] on which no one has ever sat’. In Matthew there is a ‘donkey tethered [female form], and a πωλον with her. πωλον is capable of a range of meanings. In secular Greek it often means ‘horse’, but it means ‘donkey’ in the Septuagint and documents showing Septuagint influence. Originally it had meant the young of an animal, and it still did in appropriate contexts. The reference to a female donkey and the quotation to come in Matthew 21:5 make clear that for Matthew πωλον means a young male donkey. (Nolland, The Gospel of Matthew (New International Greek Testament Commentary, 833)

David E. Garland (b. 1947) interprets:

It is...a royal entry. The heir of David who was to be anointed as king rode a donkey to his coronation. When Absalom’s hair got caught in the branches of a large terebinth, he was riding a donkey, which was symbolic of his claim to kingship (II Samuel 18:8). Mephibosheth rode a donkey as a symbol of his royal claim that he would make for the old house of Saul had the insurrection of Absalom succeeded (II Samuel 19:27). David, anxious to secure Solomon’s claim to the throne over that of Adonijah’s, instructs his comrades to mount Solomon on his donkey to ride to his anointing as king (I Kings 1:32-40; see also II Kings 9:13). Jesus’ approach to the city from the east, from the Mount of Olives, is also suggestive, since some expected that the messiah would come from the east, from the Jordan valley (see Josephus [37-100], Antiquities 20.8.6 § 169; Jewish War 2.13.5 § 261; Genesis Rabba 98:9; Qoheleth Rabba 1:9; Babylonian Talmud Sanhedrin 98a; 99a; and Zechariah 14:1-5). (Garland, Reading Matthew: A Literary and Theological Commentary, 213)

From this passage, some Christians have applauded the often neglected donkey. Howard Clarke (b. 1929) relays:

In the Middle Ages these biblical associations made the donkey the transportation of choice for wandering preachers. G.K. Chesteron [1874-1936] honored this humble animal in his poem “The Donkey.” After three stanzas describing how the donkey has always been ridiculed and mistreated he concludes: “Fools! For also had my hour:/One far fierce hour and sweet:/There was a shout about my ears,/And palms before my feet.” (Clarke, The Gospel of Matthew and Its Readers: A Historical Introduction to the First Gospel, 174)

Regardless of its symbolism, to its owners the more important fact is that the donkey has monetary value. Craig S. Keener (b. 1960) assesses the ass:

A donkey could cost between two months’ and two years’ wages, depending on its age and condition, but most peasants who could save enough would buy one, as they were extremely important even in small-scale farming. If a farmer had two, however, he sometimes rented one out (Naphtali Lewis [1911-2005] 1983: 130). (Keener, The Gospel of Matthew: A Socio-Rhetorical Commentary, 490)

Commentators often play for humor the fact that Matthew actually implies that Jesus rides both animals simultaneously (Matthew 21:2, 5, 7). This fact has also been referenced by critics. One such skeptic was John William Gott (1866–1922), the last person in Britain to be sent to prison for blasphemy. In 1921, he was arrested and tried publicly at the Old Bailey. In response to his appeal, Lord Chief Justice Alfred Lawrence (1843-1936) wrote, “It does not require a person of strong religious feelings to be outraged by a description of Jesus Christ entering Jerusalem ‘like a circus clown on the back of two donkeys’.”

Eduard Schweizer (1913-2006) explains the purported discrepancy:

Taken literally, it speaks of a donkey and (the “and” appears only in the Septuagint) a colt (Genesis 49:11 likewise), but only because Hebrew writers often use hendiadys (cf. for example Psalms 2:1-5, 33:10-12; also Numbers 21:28; Deuteronomy 32:2; I Samuel 2:6-7; Isaiah 47:1). Matthew has thus made the Markan reference to the prophetic passage explicit and at the same time emphasized its literal fulfillment...Something similar has taken place in Matthew 27:34...and John 19:23-24. (Schewizer, The Good News according to Matthew, 404)

Many have seen the reference to Jesus riding both animals as Matthew misinterpreting Zechariah’s prophecy (Zechariah 9:9). John P. Meier (b. 1942) has even suggested that this is evidence that, contrary to tradition, the author of Matthew’s gospel is not Jewish.

Donald Senior (b. 1940) summarizes:

Meier...thinks this...shows that Matthew misunderstands the Hebrew parallelism of Zechariah 9:9 where the reference to a donkey and a colt is not to two animals, but to one. Meier contends that only someone unfamiliar with Hebrew poetic forms, and, therefore, not a Jew, would be this literal on such an insignificant detail. Therefore, Matthew was not a Jew who became a Christian but a Gentile Christian who became well versed in the Hebrew scriptures and things Jewish. (Senior, What Are They Saying About Matthew? A Revised & Expanded Edition, 16)

Others have explained the alleged discrepancy by comparing Matthew to Mark’s parallel account which notes that “no one yet has ever sat” on the animal (Mark 11:2 NASB), a detail not recorded in Matthew.

Robert H. Gundry (b. 1932) sees the two gospels as saying the same thing in different ways:

Matthew inserts ὄνον, “a donkey”, to correspond with ὄνον in his coming quotation of Zechariah 9:9 (Matthew 21:5) and to substitute for Mark’s clause “on which no man [literally ‘no one of men’] has ever sat.” As it turns out, this donkey was a mother and had been ridden. That her colt accompanied her eliminates any need to describe him as unbroken, for after being broken a colt would be taken from the mother. (Gundry, Matthew: A Commentary on His Handbook for a Mixed Church under Persecution, 407)

Craig L. Blomberg (b. 1955) concurs:

Only Matthew mentions two animals. He is often accused of misinterpreting what in the Old Testament was intended to be synonymous parallelism. But irrespective of the correct reading of Zechariah 9:9, it would be natural for the mother to come along if her colt had never previously been ridden (Mark 11:2). Matthew 21:5 can easily be taken as implying that Jesus rode only on the young donkey, appropriate symbolism for his purity and holiness. (Blomberg, Matthew (New American Commentary), 312)

Bruce B. Barton (b. 1943) further defends:

Matthew highlighted the prophetic fulfillment by noting a second donkey, the colt’s mother. Jesus didn’t ride her, nor is she essential to the story. But she provides a detail of fact. Her calming presence also explains the handling of an unbroken colt. (Barton, Matthew (Life Application Bible Commentary), 406)

Robert H. Smith (1932-2006) sees the imagery as intentional:

Has Matthew misunderstood poetic parallelism? Hardly. Playfully, insistently he portrays Jesus as the pluperfect fulfillment of prophecy. And he pictures Jesus the way ancient oriental gods and kings are frequently depicted: enthroned above a pair of animals. He comes meek but royal nonetheless. (Smith, Matthew (Augsburg Commentary on the New Testament), 61)

The disciples are instructed to take the animal and, if confronted, respond with a cryptic line befitting a cloak and dagger caper: “The Lord has need of them.” (Matthew 21:3 NASB). The implication is that this answer will be sufficient and there will no questions asked. Jesus’ word is sufficient.

The intended meaning of “the Lord” is replete with potential interpretations. Some have even viewed it as a codeword. Leon Morris (1914-2006) details:

“Lord” is patient of more than one meaning. It could mean the owner of the animals, but against this is the fact that, though Luke has the same expression at this point, a little later he says that the owners (“lords”) questioned the disciples when they came for the animal; there was more than one owner, and the owners were with the donkey, not where the donkey was to go. It could mean God, for the animal was to be used in God’s service, but it is not easy to see how those standing near the donkey could have understood this. Another possibility is that “Lord” means himself...if this is the way of it, we should notice that he says “the” Lord, not simply “our” Lord; it is the Lord of all that is in mind. This cannot be ruled out, but Jesus did not usually apply this word to himself. All in all it seems better to understand the words as a prearranged password. This means that Jesus had somehow made arrangement with the owners of the animals. None of the Evangelists gives any indication who the owners were or how the arrangement was made. But that it was made shows clearly that Jesus has had more dealing in and around Jerusalem tan Matthew has so far indicated. (Morris, The Gospel according to Matthew (Pillar New Testament Commentary), 519-20)

John Proctor (b. 1952) adds:

The fetching of the donkey has the feel of a royal command, as of the king commandeers any animal he needs. But it much more likely reflects an agreement with a sympathetic local contact. Even so, there is a curiously cryptic feel to the matter—almost like something out of a spy novel—and it may be that Jesus was even now being careful and how and where he attracted attention. (Proctor, Matthew (Daily Bible Commentary: A Guide for Reflection and Prayer), 170)

As Jesus asks his followers to take property they do not own, the legality of Jesus’ request has been addressed. Craig S. Keener (b. 1960) reflects:

The response testifies first of all to the man’s respect for Jesus: rulers (as Jesus is here) and officials could impress animals (Sallust [86-25 BCE], Jugurthine War. 75.4; Richard A. Burridge [b. 1955] 1994: 54); Jewish teachers (as the man presumably regards Jesus) could also borrow animals among those who respected the, (J. Duncan M. Derrett [b. 1922] 1971). (Keener, The Gospel of Matthew: A Socio-Rhetorical Commentary, 490)

Robert H. Gundry (b. 1932) reminds that a king may commandeer a donkey any time he pleases:

“And if anyone should say anything to you” is indefinite and ambiguous both as to possibility and content, and the succeeding verses will say nothing about anyone’s saying anything to the two disciples when they untie the animals. So the entire stress lies on Jesus’ telling the disciples to call him the animals’ “owner” in saying he needs them. “Owner” translates the word otherwise translated “Lord” and therefore alludes to Jesus’ lordship. As Lord, his ownership of the animals obliterates anyone else’s owning them and gives him the right to use them. Matthew includes nothing about Jesus’ returning the animals. So the stress stays on his divine ownership of them (contrast Mark 11:3). And their being sent to Jesus by the possible “anyone.” underlined with “immediately,” caps the stress on his owning them. (Gundry, Commentary on Matthew)

Jesus’ memorable procession into Jerusalem has historical precedent, many with similarities to Christ’s. Craig A. Evans (b. 1952) chronicles:

Jesus’ celebrated entry is one of as many as twelve similar entries, as recorded in I and II Maccabees and in Josephus [37-100]. These entries follow a more or less fixed pattern. Entries involving major figures include Alexander [356-323 BE], who enters Jerusalem, is greeted with ceremony, and is escorted into the city, where he participates in cultic activity (Antiquities 11.325-39); Apollonius, who enters Jerusalem accompanied by torches and shouts (II Maccabees 4:21-22); Judas Maccabeus, who returns home from a military victory and is greeted with hymns and “praising God” (I Maccabees 4:19-25; Josephus, Antiquities 12.312); Judas Maccabeus again, this time returning from battle and entering Jerusalem amidst singing and merrymaking, followed by sacrifice (I Maccabees 5:45-54; Antiquities 12.348-49); Jonathan, brother of Judas Maccabeus, who is greeted by the men of Askalon “with great pomp” (I Maccabees 10:86); Simon, brother of Judas Maccabeus, who enters Gaza, expels idolatrous inhabitants, cleanses idolatrous houses, and enters the city with “hymns and praise” (I Maccabees 13:43-48); Simon, brother of Judas Maccabeus, again, ths time entering Jerusalem, where he is met by crowds “with praise and palm branches, and with harps and cymbals and stringed instruments and with hymns and songs” (I Maccabees 13:49-41); Antigonus [382-301 BCE], who with pomp enters Jerusalem and then the temple precincts, but with so much pomp and self-importance he is criticized by some for imagining that he himself was “king” (Jewish Wars 1.73-74; Antiquities 13.304-6); Marcus Agrippa [64-12 BCE], who enters Jerusalem, is met by Herod, and is welcomed by the people with acclamations (Antiquities 16.12-15); and Archelaus, [23 BCE-18 CE] who, hoping to confirm his kingship, journeys to enters Jerusalem amidst acclamation and his procession (Antiquities 17.194-239). (Evans, Matthew (New Cambridge Bible Commentary), 357-58)

In light of this history, for once Jesus does something that might be expected of the long awaited Messiah. And as usual, he will turn this expectation on its head. And one way he does this is with his ride of choice: the donkey.

Entering riding a donkey is unique and Jesus is undeniably intentional about its selection. D.A. Carson (b. 1946) comments:

The distinguishing feature of the synoptic accounts, as opposed to John 12, is that Jesus arranged for the ride. The applause and the crowds were not manipulated; they would have occurred in any case. But the ride on a colt, because it was planned, could only be an acted parable, a deliberate act of symbolic self-disclosure for those with eyes to see or, after the resurrection, with memories by which to remember and integrate the events of the preceding weeks and years. Secrecy was being lifted. (Tremper Longman III [b. 1952] and David E. Garland [b. 1947], Matthew and Mark (The Expositor’s Bible Commentary), 493-94)

R.T. France (1938-2012) accedes:

Jesus’ ride was a matter of deliberate choice, and indeed probably of careful planning, rather than a matter of necessity. Among a crowd of pilgrims on foot the rider on the donkey intended to be noticed and expected his supporters to draw the appropriate conclusion. He can not have been surprised or displeased when they did. Such a deliberately provocative approach to the city is also consistent with the equally public and provocative action which Jesus was to take on his arrival in the temple area (Matthew 21:12-13). Among the Passover crowds coming into the city it would have been impossible for Jesus and his disciples to arrive without drawing attention to themselves, but Jesus has not come to slip quietly into Jerusalem. (France, The Gospel of Matthew (New International Commentary on the New Testament), 774)

If riding this donkey was so important to Jesus, why does he not secure it himself? Why does Jesus choose to enter Jerusalem riding a donkey? What do you associate with this animal? What would you have named the donkey? When have you wanted to make a grand entrance? What is the best entrance you have ever witnessed? Who would you lend something valuable to, no questions asked? When have you gone to great lengths to create the proper ambiance for an event? Does Jesus stage anything elsewhere in his ministry? Why now? Why is this event so important? What message is he attempting to convey?

Larry Chouinard (b. 1948) surmises:

It is doubtful...that Jesus’ instructions for obtaining a donkey were simply to secure transportation for the final two miles of his journey. Rather, it appears that Jesus intends to deliberately stage the manner of his entrance into Jerusalem in terms of the prophetic expectations of Zechariah 9:9. Thereby, his entrance becomes a prophetic act which implicitly makes a Christological statement. The focus of the account is upon the Lord’s foreknowledge and sovereign awareness of his conformity to God’s will as expressed in Old Testament prophecies (Chouinard, Matthew (The College Press NIV Commentary), 366)

Thomas G. Long (b. 1946) agrees:

Matthew is conveying a theological truth here, and he risks the somewhat improbable picture of Jesus straddling two beasts in order to make his point: King Jesus’ humble entrance into Jerusalem was, in the deepest sense, a fulfillment of God’s intent to save humanity as declared in Scripture. (Long, Matthew (Westminster Bible Companion), 235)

A large factor in Jesus’ rationale for riding a donkey is its consistency with Zechariah 9:9. Douglas R.A. Hare (b. 1929) deciphers:

It may very well have been an “acted parable” in which Jesus consciously acted out the prophecy of Zechariah by riding into the holy city on a donkey. While it was customary for pilgrims to arrive by foot, his action would have seemed only slightly unusual to outsiders. According to John 12:16, not even the disciples perceived the event as the fulfillment of prophecy until after the resurrection... In Matthew’s account the underlying prophecy is not only explicitly quoted but is placed before the event to emphasize that Jesus actively fulfills the messianic prophecy. (Hare, Matthew (Interpretation: A Bible Commentary for Teaching and Preaching), 237-38)

Matthew stresses the prophetic association by inserting a fulfillment citation (Matthew 21:4-5); John’s gospel makes a similar reference (John 12:14-15). Matthew introduces the verse with the usual prefixed formula for Old Testament testimony. Though it captures the verse’s meaning well, the gospel’s rendering of Zechariah 9:9 is neither an exact match of the Hebrew or the Greek and it is conflated with introductory words from Isaiah 62:11.

Robert H. Mounce (b. 1921) acknowledges:

Matthew identifies this event as a fulfillment of a prophecy by Zechariah that Israel’s king will come gentle and riding on a donkey. The first line of the quotation (which Matthew says was spoken through the prophet, singular) comes from Isaiah 62:11 and the rest from Zechariah 9:9. Eduard Schweizer [1913-2006] says this is “constant with rabbinic hermeneutics, in which a passage containing the same word as another serves to interpret the latter”...Of interest is the omission from Zechariah of the descriptive phrase “righteous and having salvation.” It appears that Matthew was interested mainly in emphasizing the humility of the Messiah. (Mounce, Matthew New International Biblical Commentary)

Stuart K. Weber (b. 1945) provides an overview of Zechariah’s original context:

Zechariah 9 begins an oracle predicting the destruction of all Israel’s enemies and the ensuing peace in Jerusalem. All of Israel’s chariots, war horses, and battle instruments would be taken away (Zechariah 9:10), and Jerusalem’s king would enter peacefully, “righteous and having salvation” (Zechariah 9:9). The king would be gentle, since there was no longer any need for war, and he would arrive by the humble means of a donkey. (Weber, Matthew (Holman New Testament Commentary), 362)

Stanley D. Toussaint (b. 1928) analyzes:

Rather than use the first clauses of Zechariah 9:9, Matthew introduces the Zechariah passage with a phrase from Isaiah 62:11, “Say to the daughter of Zion.” The Zechariah passage actually has, “Rejoice greatly, O daughter of Zion; shout in triumph, O daughter of Jerusalem.” But this would not fit into Matthew’s argument since Jerusalem failed to recognize its King. Jerusalem had to have its King pointed out; therefore the Evangelist substitutes the words of Isaiah to give the passage more meaning. “The substitution is interpretive.” (Toussaint, Behold the King: A Study of Matthew, 238)

Brendan Byrne (b. 1939) concurs:

The text quoted from Zechariah 9:9 omits the epithets “triumphant and victorious is he,” so as to focus all attention on “humble” (Greek praus) and on the mode of transport. (Byrne, Lifting the Burden: Reading Matthew’s Gospel in the Church Today, 158)

This stress on humility is well represented in eastern iconogaphy which depicts Jesus riding the donkey side saddle, a style associated with a woman not a warrior (pictured).

R.T. France (1938-2012) asserts that the original audience would have gleaned Jesus’ meaning:

Even without an explicit quotation of that prophecy in the text, any Jewish reader of the story could hardly fail to be reminded of it and of the royal ideology which underlies it. Zechariah’s prophecy of a humble and peaceful king coming to Jerusalem “vindicated and saved” is based on the story of David’s return to the city after the defeat of Absalom’s rebellion, when he came in triumph as king, and yet humbly and in peace (II Samuel 19:1-20:22). When the Son of David chose to ride down to the city from the Mount of Olives on a donkey, the acted allusion was unmistakable...Zechariah’s prophecy pictures David retracing his outward route over the Mount of Olives (II Samuel 15:30) and riding on the donkey which has been provided for him in II Samuel 16:1-2. A donkey is a suitable mount for a king, but only for a king in time of peace. (France, The Gospel of Matthew (New International Commentary on the New Testament), 773-74)

Stanley P. Saunders (b. 1953) sees many layers to Jesus’ insistence on the donkey:

This image is sometimes regarded as Matthew’s clumsy, literalistic misreading of the Hebrew parallelism in Zechariah 9:9. It is, rather, a deliberate literary device–the kind that works best in oral presentations. It signals: (a) Jesus’ royal, messianic identity as Son of David (the donkey is associated with coronations of kings, cf. I Kings 1:33-48); (b) Jesus’ identification with what is meek or humble (Matthew 21:5; cf. Matthew 5:5,11:29)...(c) Matthew’s identification of Jesus with Moses (Moses rides a donkey in Exodus 4:19-20; cf. Matthew 2:19-21); and (d) a strong affirmation of Jesus’ fulfillment of the messianic vision of Zechariah 9-14 (cf. Matthew 21:12-13, 26:15-16, 26:26-29, 26:30-35, 27:3-10, 27:51-53), where the messiah not only restores Israel and shatters her enemies, but brings peace to the nations and sets prisoners free (Zechariah 9:9-11). (Saunders, Preaching the Gospel of Matthew: Proclaiming God’s Presence, 208)

Riding the donkey sends the message not only that Jesus is a king but also conveys the type of king he is. Stanley Hauerwas (b. 1940) determines:

Jesus identifies himself as Lord, but one that will ride on ass, a creature not normally associated with what it means to be a king. Victors in battle do not tide into their capital cities on asses, but rather they ride on fearsome horses. But this king does not and will not triumph through force of arms. (Hauerwas, Matthew (Brazos Theological Commentary on the Bible), 181)

Jesus presents himself as a new type of conquering hero, a nonviolent one. George Martin (b. 1939) details:

Pilgrims normally entered Jerusalem on foot, but Jesus will ride into Jerusalem like the king in Zechariah’s prophecy to indicate that he is not a warrior messiah bent on establishing an earthly kingdom. Jesus is “meek and humble of heart” (Matthew 11:29), not a man of violence (Matthew 12:19-20); he forbids his disciples from following the way of violence (Matthew 5:38-39, 26:51-52). (Martin, Bringing the Gospel of Matthew To Life: Insight & Inspiration, 437)

Myron S. Augsburger (b. 1929) notes:

Jesus entered Jerusalem not on a white charger, but on a lowly beast of burden, not on a horse as a symbol of power, but on a colt of an ass as a symbol of humility. He is the peaceful King of the people of God, not a revolutionary with political interest (Isaiah 11:1-2). Note the care with which Matthew stresses identity: the identity of the location, the identity of a colt rather than a white charger, the identity with Old Testament prophecy (Matthew 21:4-5), the identity in the cry of the crowd (Psalm 118:26), and the identity as the prophet from Nazareth (Matthew 21:11). (Augsburger, Matthew (The Preacher’s Commentary), 227)

All together Jesus uses the donkey to make a grand statement. Frederick Dale Bruner (b. 1932) asserts:

There are two closely related and yet contrasting points here. (1) In this story...Jesus, as it were, “comes out of the closet” and publicly acknowledges his Messiahship. (2) Yet by choosing a donkey for this “confession,” Jesus perfectly illustrates his modest Messiahship. Thus was have another text in which the two great truths about Jesus are illumined — what early theologians called the doctrine of the two natures (Jesus’ true identity and true humanity) or what modern exegesis calls the authority and lowliness of Jesus. (Bruner, The Churchbook: Matthew 13-28,353)

The donkey provides a striking image and serves to parody the expected regal processions. As usual, Jesus flips the script. Mike Graves and David M. May (b. 1958) conclude:

If we choose to retain the “Triumphal Entry” title, we must do so with the greatest sense of irony. This entry by Jesus into Jerusalem is unlike any other triumphant processional familiar to first-century people. If it is triumph, then we need to accept Matthew’s definition of triumph. It is not an imperial Roman grand propaganda parade heaping accolades on a king/warrior for the successful incorporation of another province into the empire that was Rome. It was a parade, certainly, but not that type of parade. The sad-eyed man riding into Jerusalem on a donkey that day was leading a funeral parade—his own. (Graves and May, Preaching Matthew: Interpretation and Proclamation , 76)

Warren Carter (b. 1955) adds:

Jesus’ meekness consisting of compassion and service challenges such a power structure. His act of entering the city employs some features of the entrance processions and triumphs in order to contrast or reframe them, to parody them with a very different vision of human interaction. Jesus rides a donkey, not an intimidating warhorse representative of strategies to dominate and exploit, an everyday common beast and one that was often a symbol used by Gentiles to deride and scorn Jews (Josephus [37-100], Contra Apion 2.80-88, 112-20; Tacitus [56-117], Histories 5.3-4). He is not welcomed by the city’s leadership with escort speeches, only by his followers. And he is a very different sort of king, meek not triumphant, a compassionate servant not a powerful imperial official. (Carter, Matthew and Empire: Initial Explorations, 129)

Most Christians would prefer the Jesus who rides in on a white horse as seen in the Bible’s final book (Revelation 19:11). But Jesus enters Jerusalem as the Prince of Peace (Isaiah 9:6), not to abolish Rome. And he conveys this sentiment through his ride. In this way, Jesus’ donkey speaks more than Balaam’s famed talking donkey without ever saying a word (Numbers 22:28).

If you had to make a grand entrance on a major thoroughfare and had any vehicle at your disposal, what transportation would you choose? How would Jesus enter Jerusalem in our time? Did the original audience grasp Jesus’ intent? Do we?

“There were only a few shepherds at the first Bethlehem. The ox and the donkey understood more of the first Christmas than the high priests in Jerusalem. And it is the same today.” - Thomas Merton (1913-1968)

Traveling a Rocky Road (Luke 10:25-37)

Where did the story of the Good Samaritan take place? On the road to Jericho (Luke 10:30)

“The Parable of the Good Samaritan” is one of Jesus’ most famous illustrations (Luke 10:25-37). The famed story, found only in Luke’s gospel, is told in response to an inquiry as to the definition of “neighbor” (Luke 10:29). The parable describes a highway robbery in which a traveler is brutally ambushed by brigands (Luke 10:30). After two respected members of the religious establishment pass the victim without helping a Samaritan goes out of his way to assist the fallen traveler (Luke 10:31-33). The fact that Jesus paints a Samaritan, a reviled race by Jews of his day, as the hero would have shocked the original audience. After unleashing this thinly veiled diatribe against prejudice and religious leadership, Jesus concludes the discourse by letting the audience determine who in the story is the neighbor (Luke 10:36).

A unique facet of this parable is that Jesus gives it a clearly defined real world setting: the traveler is attacked between Jerusalem to Jericho (Luke 10:30).

Jesus replied and said, “A man was going down from Jerusalem to Jericho, and fell among robbers, and they stripped him and beat him, and went away leaving him half dead. (Luke 10:30 NASB)

While the story is fictional, its landscape is not. This twist adds a heavy dose of realism to the parable.

This may be another incidence of Jesus finding a teachable moment based on his own physical location. Peter Rhea Jones (b. 1937) speculates:

It is possible that Jesus was standing on or near the Jericho road when he spoke the parable since Bethany is on the same road and the next pericopé centers there. Certainly the parables usually associated with Galilee are not peopled with priestly sorts, whereas this parable may well have been uttered in Judea, a region more related to the Temple. (Jones, Studying the Parables of Jesus, 295)

Specifically the traveler is “going down” from Jerusalem to Jericho, situated east of Jerusalem in the Jordan valley (Luke 10:30). Encountering priests on this journey is not surprising.

Klyne Snodgrass (b. 1944) informs:

Jericho was such a popular residence for priests that estimates suggest that half of the twenty-four orders of priests (cf. I Chronicles 24:1-19) lived there, although this may be an exaggeration. Each order would serve in the Temple for one week. (cf. Luke 1:8). (Snodgrass, Stories With Intent: A Comprehensive Guide to the Parables of Jesus, 345)

From Christianity’s earliest days, the parable’s setting was interpreted allegorically. Marcion of Sinope (85-160) posed that the backdrop was appropriate because Jesus was the true Good Samaritan and he appeared for the first time in history between Jerusalem and Jericho.

Arland J. Hultgren (b. 1939) relays:

Why Jericho? Augustine [354-430] allegorized the parable, saying that the descent signified the loss of immortality as the man went from the heavenly city (Jerusalem) to one that signified mortality (Jericho). It is more likely, however, that Jesus chose Jericho as the destination because the road to it was known to be a treacherous and dangerous route. (Hultgren, The Parables of Jesus: A Commentary, 95)

Though “road” is not explicitly in the text, the path taken can be definitively located as there were few alternate routes. In Scripture, one always goes “up” to Jerusalem and down from the Holy City and in this case the terminology was quite literal.

Joseph A. Fitzmyer (b. 1920) describes:

According to Josephus [37-100], Bellum Judaicum 4.8,3 § 474, this was a distance of 150 stadioi (about eighteen miles) through “desert and rocky” country. Reference would be to the Roman road through passes and the Wadi Qelt; one would descend over 2500 feet above sea level (Jerusalem) to 770 feet below it (Jericho)...Josephus also mentions it as the way taken by the Legio X Fretensis [41-40 BC] en route from Jericho for the siege of Jerusalem (Bellum Judaicum 5.2, 3 § 69-70). (Fitzmyer, The Gospel According to Luke X-XXIV: Introduction, Translation, and Notes (The Anchor Bible), 886)

Darrel L. Bock (b. 1953) adds:

Traveling the road from Jerusalem to Jericho (another journey going the other direction is found in II Chronicles 28:15), he would have gone through the Pass of Adummim (Joshua 18:17), a name that is related to the Hebrew word for blood. This journey had a reputation for being dangerous long before Jesus’ time...It was a rocky thoroughfare winding through the desert and surrounded by caves, which made good hideouts for robbers who laid in wait. Even centuries after Christ’s time, robbers continued to exploit travelers on this road. (Bock, Luke 9:51-24:53 (Baker Exegetical Commentary on the New Testament), 1029)

The road’s topography leant itself to treachery. It possessed a sharp, steep descent. Situated in wild, desolate country, its curved path limited a traveler’s line of sight.

I. Howard Marshall (b. 1934) summarizes:

The man was travelling (κατέβαινεν – imperfect) from Jerusalem to Jericho along a road which...runs through desert and rocky country, well suited for brigands (Josephus Bellum Judaicum 4:474; Strabo 16:2:41 describes how Pompey destroyed brigands here, and Jerome [347-420] (in Jeremiah 3:2) spoke of Arab robbers in his time). It is not surprising that on his journey the man encountered robbers. (Marshall, The Gospel of Luke (New International Greek Testament Commentary, 447)

The road’s destination of Jericho also supplied ideal prey. Trent C. Butler (b. 1941) reports:

Herod [73-4 BC] had built New Testament Jericho as his winter palace on the same spot Hasmonean rulers had earlier built their palace. Herod included three palaces, a swimming pool, and a sunken garden. Thus, government officials frequently made the trip from Jerusalem to Jericho as did Jewish religious and political leaders. Criminals took advantage of the upper class’s need to travel this winding, crooked road through dangerous passes. They hid behind large rocks above narrow passes and preyed on travelers. (Butler, Luke (Holman Bible Commentary), 172)

The road has long had a nefarious reputation. Josephus (37-100) characterized the road as dangerous (Bellum Judaicum 4.451-475) and notes how some commuters took weapons to protect themselves as they traveled this road and others like it (Bellum Judaicum 2.8.4 §125).

The road’s reputation persisted for centuries. William Barclay (1907-1978) researches:

There is an extant letter dated A.D. 171 in which a complaint is made to the government by two dealers in pigs. They too had fallen into the hands of brigands “who assaulted us with very many stripes, wounding Pasion, robbed us of a pig and carried off Pasion’s coat.” In the fifth century Jerome [347-420] tells us that it was still called “The Red or Bloody Way.” Even as late as the middle of the nineteenth century travellers had to pay safety money to the local Sheiks if they wished to be safe from the attacks of the Bedouin...The grim history of the road extends even to our own time. H.V. Morton [1892-1979] in his book In the Steps of the Master writes, “When I told a friend that I intended to run down to the Dead Sea for a day he said, “Well, be careful to get back before dark.’ ‘Why?’ I asked. ‘You might meet Abu Jildah...’ ‘Who is Abu Jildah?’ ‘He is a brigand who has shot several policemen. There is a price of £250 on his head, and he has a habit of building a wall of stones across the Jericho road, stopping cars, robbing you, and if you resist, shooting you. So take my tip and get back before dusk...’” Even in the early 1930's this very road was still a danger to spot for the unwary traveller. (Barclay, The Parables of Jesus, 79-80)

Richard Gribble (b. 1952) adds:

In 1118, during the period of the Crusades, the Knight Order of Templars was formed to defend pilgrims on this path. As late as the nineteenth century, pilgrims received protection from Turkish soldiers along the way. (Gribble, The Parables of Jesus: Applications for Contemporary Life, Cycle C, 104)

Even if the reader is unfamiliar with the road’s well-deserved reputation, it quickly reveals itself in the events that transpire.

Remnants of the road still exist today. Henry Wansbrough (b. 1934) relays:

The old path from Jerusalem to Jericho runs down the Wadi Qilt, a deep, twisting canyon with rocky sides and blistering heat, some four hours’ smart walk. Today you can round a corner and find yourself in the middle of a flock of goats, herded by a bedouin boy and his noisy dogs. Just as easily it could be the bandits of Jesus tale. (Wansbrough, Luke: A Guide for Reflection and Prayer (Daily Bible Commentary), 95)

The old road, however, was even more menacing than the present one. It was considered especially dangerous even at a time when travel was customarily hazardous. Given this setting, the listener anticipates the story and is prepared for the violence that transpires. It is almost expected. There are modern equivalents.

N.T. Wright (b. 1948) relates:

Few Israelis today will travel from Galilee to Jerusalem by the direct route, because it will take them through the West Bank and risk violence. In exactly the same way, most first-century pilgrims making the same journey would prefer, as Jesus himself did, to travel down the Jordan valley to Jericho and then turn west up the hill to Jerusalem. It was much safer...But still not completely safe. The desert road from Jericho to Jerusalem had many turns and twists, and brigands could lurk out of sight in the nearby hills and valleys, ready to strike. A lonely traveller was an easy target. (Wright, Luke for Everyone, 127)

Darrel L. Bock (b. 1953) compares:

The cultural equivalent today might be a trip through parts of the inner city in the middle of the night. This road was hazardous, as the man who falls among robbers finds out. Thieves took advantage of the caves that lined the road as it wound through the desert, jumping travelers as they passed through. (Bock, Luke (The NIV Application Commentary), 300)

Given this reputation, some interpreters have viewed the traveler as irresponsible. William Barclay (1907-1978) indites:

The traveller...was obviously a reckless and foolhardy character. People seldom attempted the Jerusalem to Jericho road alone if they were carrying goods or valuables. Seeking safety in numbers, they travelled in convoys or caravans. This man had no one but himself to blame for the plight in which he found himself. (Barclay, The Gospel of Luke (Daily Study Bible Series), 165)

It is worth mentioning that the story’s hero, the Samaritan, is not critiqued for being companionless. Neither is the priest nor the Levite.

Frank Stern (b. 1936) reminds:

One of the surprising aspects of the parable was that all the travelers journeyed alone. Usually, people traveled the highway in groups. When the Essenes passed through, they carried weapons to protect themselves from robbers. (Stern, A Rabbi Looks At Jesus’ Parables, 220)

In fact, the traveler is completely nondescript. He may or may not have been reckless. Given his location, many have deduced that he is Jewish. This, however, is not stated. The only thing that can be stated conclusively about him is that he is in need of help. And for “good Samaritans” that is all that need be known.

Why does Jesus place his parable on a road synonymous with violence? How would the story change if set on an anonymous road? Does Jesus himself ever walk this path? Is the traveler in any way to blame for his predicament? If so, would he be less deserving of help? What is the modern-day equivalent of the road from Jerusalem to Jericho? Where do you feel uncomfortable walking alone? When have you been saddened but not shocked about events based upon where they occurred?

The setting prepares the reader for the story by eliciting an expectation for both violence and the presence of priests. These expectations also pave the road for the surprise: the startling answer to the question of “Who is my neighbor?” (Luke 10:29) The plot moves from the common occurrence of robbery to the uncommon help of the Samaritan. The story ends with the jarring charge to be the neighbor the Good Samaritan is: to help those in peril (Luke 10:37).

But even at the story’s conclusion, the road remains. Warren W. Wiersbe (b. 1929) critiques:

The road from Jerusalem down to Jericho was indeed a dangerous one. Since the temple workers used it so much, you would have thought the Jews or Romans would have taken steps to make it safe. It is much easier to maintain a religious system than it is to improve the neighborhood. (Wiersbe, Be Compassionate: Let the World Know That Jesus Cares (Luke 1-13), 115)

Martin Luther King, Jr. (1929-1968) challenges:

On the one hand, we are called to play the Good Samaritan on life’s roadside, but that will be only an initial act. One day we must come to see that the whole Jericho Road must be changed so that men and women will not be constantly beaten and robbed as they make their journey on life’s highway. True compassion is more than flinging a coin to a beggar. A true revolution of values will soon look uneasily on the glaring contrast of poverty and wealth with righteous indignation. (King, “Why I Am Opposed to the War in Vietnam,” speech delivered April 30, 1967; The Riverside Church, New York).

Why was the road from Jerusalem to Jericho allowed to remain so vulnerable? What “road repair” needs to be done in your area? How can you help?

“Any revolution has to start with the transformation of the individual, otherwise individuals are corrupted by the power they get if their revolution succeeds.” - Wes “Scoop” Nisker (b. 1942)

Bound to Suffer (Acts 21:10-11)

Who was the prophet who warned Paul against going to Jerusalem, and predicted his arrest? Agabus (Acts 21:10)

At the conclusion of Paul’s third “missionary Journey”, suspense builds with repeated omens regarding the apostle’s plan to return to Jerusalem (Acts 20:22-23, 37-38, 21:4). This foreboding climaxes in Caesarea where the apostle stays with Philip and his four daughters who prophesy (Acts 21:7-8). Though the local prophets say nothing about Paul’s fate, the topic does not go unmentioned.

Agabus, a prophet from Jerusalem, appears from seemingly out of nowhere to address Paul (Acts 21:10-11). He delivers news that no one wants to hear, reiterating that tribulation awaits Paul in Jerusalem.

As we were staying there for some days, a prophet named Agabus came down from Judea. And coming to us, he took Paul’s belt and bound his own feet and hands, and said, “This is what the Holy Spirit says: ‘In this way the Jews at Jerusalem will bind the man who owns this belt and deliver him into the hands of the Gentiles.’” (Acts 21:10-11 NASB)

What had been merely a premonition of danger in Ephesus (Acts 20:22-23, 37-38) and Tyre (Acts 21:4) becomes prophecy in Caesarea (Acts 21:10-11).

Agabus’ name (which means “locust”) is unusual; perhaps not surprisingly, the prophet is the only Biblical character who bears the name (Acts 11:28, 21:10). Despite being based out of Jerusalem, Agabus is never seen there. Though he is introduced like a new character, the prophet appears ten chapters (approximately fifteen years) earlier, predicting a famine in Antioch (Acts 11:27-30). He is presented similarly in both passages (Acts 11:27-28, 21:10) and in both instances functions as a prophet of doom (Acts 11:28, 21:11). There is no word on how Agabus spent the intervening years.

Agabus’ significance is as an established prophet that has credibility within the Church. He is also an old friend of Paul as they had both participated in famine relief years earlier (Acts 11:27-30). Informing Paul of the pending danger seems to be the sole purpose of Agabus’ trip and the prophet makes a grand gesture by traveling to Caesarea to do so.

When Agabus arrives, he takes Paul’s “belt” (CEV, ESV, HCSB, MSG, NASB, NIV, NKJV, NLT, NRSV) or “girdle” (ASV, KJV, RSV) and uses it to bind his own hands and feet (Acts 21:11). (It would have been awkward had he enlisted audience participation for this presentation.) Neither translation of the fastener is fully accurate in the modern sense of the terms. This accessory is clearly not the modern short leather belt as Agabus would have needed to be a contortionist to bind himself. (The French skeptic Alfred Loisy [1857-1940] found the action so implausible as to believe it impossible.) Thankfully the belt’s function is not to hold Paul’s garments up. Instead, the belt/girdle is a long strip of cloth (unless stated to be leather, as in Mark 1:6) wound several times around the waist to carry money and other items.

Darrell L. Bock (b. 1953) describes:

The prophecy is acted out, as he takes Paul’s waistband (ζώνη, zōnē). This was a long band, wrapped around the waist, in which money could be placed...The translation refers to a “belt,” which may well be a money belt. Paul may have well kept in it some of the Jerusalem collection money he was gathering. (Bock, Acts (Baker Exegetical Commentary on the New Testament), 638)

Agabus’ demonstration enforces his point vividly and dramatically: Paul will be bound. Loveday Alexander relays, “The theme is binding—tying up hands and feet, taking away the power of independent action—surely a personal nightmare for the much-travelled and independent Paul (Alexander, Acts: Daily Bible Commentary: A Guide for Reflection and Prayer, 161).”

Agabus’ action is more than a mere object lesson and the ritual is not as antiquated as it may seem at first glance. N.T. Wright (b. 1948) explains:

It isn’t just a visual aid. It’s what happens when, under the spirit who inspires prophecy, part of God’s future comes forward into the present and becomes a visible, physical, albeit symbolic reality. This, actually, is how many Christians, drawing on deeply Jewish instincts, have understood the reality of the sacraments. (Wright, Acts for Everyone: Part Two, 141)

Agabus is following in the tradition of the Old Testaments prophets who often accompanied prophecies with symbolic actions (I Kings 11:29-39; Isaiah 8:1-4, 20:2-6; Jeremiah 13:1-11, 16:1-4, 19:1-13, 27:1-7; Ezekiel 4:1-5:17; Hosea 1:2-11, 3:1-5). His words are also emblematic of his office, updating the traditional prophetic introductory formula “Thus says the Lord” to “Thus says the Holy Spirit” (Acts 21:11).

Though Agabus is obviously modeling Old Testament prophets, there are some differences. David E. Aune (b. 1939) critiques:

In form this oracle has little relationship to Old Testament prophetic speech forms, which nearly always provide a reason (Begründung) for the threat in terms of accusation. That form is clearly irrelevant here, where the fate of Paul cannot be construed as a divine threat. Yet since Old Testament predictions of future misfortunes are always viewed as punishment for misbehavior, the distance between Old Testament speech forms, in both form and content, and the oracle of Agabus appears even greater. The closest formal type of prophetic speech to the oracle of Agabus is the Greco-Roman revelatory speech form which we have labeled a predictive oracle. (Aune, Prophecy in Early Christianity and the Ancient Mediterranean World, 264)

Agabus accompanies his graphic symbolic act with a solemn interpretive word. This is the only verbatim prophecy of Agabus documented in the New Testament. He reveals little new information as the Spirit has repeatedly testified that Paul will experience heartache in Jerusalem (Acts 20:22-23, 37-38, 21:4). Agabus confirms these predilections and adds two details: 1. Jews will do the binding; 2. Paul will then be given over to the Gentiles (Acts 21:11). The apostle now knows that his own people will be involved and that Jews and Gentiles will collude in his plight.

Problematically, Agabus’ prophecy is not explicitly fulfilled. While Paul is bound (Acts 21:33), it is a Roman commander, not a contingent of Jews, who ties him (Acts 21:27-33). Nor do the Jews extradite Paul to the Gentiles; the Romans had to forcefully remove the apostle from Jewish supervision as his captors were attempting to kill him (Acts 21:31). The prophecy is fulfilled inasmuch as Jewish leaders prove responsible for Paul’s Roman custody. Though Jews did not administer the binding, they provide the occasion for it and as such the prophet correctly pinpoints the party responsible for Paul’s arrest and subsequent imprisonment.

C. Peter Wagner (b. 1930) acknowledges:

How can we explain this prophecy? It would not seem to be sufficient to explain it by arguing that only the details might not have been accurate, while the essence of Agabus’s prophecy was accurate. Wayne Grudem (b. 1948) points out, “This explanation does not take full enough account of the fact that these are the only details Agabus mentions–they are, in terms of content, the heart of his prophecy.” (Wagner, The Book of Acts: A Commentary, 463)

J. Bradley Chance (b. 1954) responds:

In ancient narrative precise fulfillment of prophecy or prognosticators within a narrative were not necessary. Prophecies or prognostications that foreshadowed events to come within the narrative offered readers a general sense of the direction that the narrative would take. (Chance, Acts (Smyth & Helwys Bible Commentary), 383)

The wording of the prophecy also underscores that Acts is drawing a close parallel between Paul’s destiny in Jerusalem and Jesus’ fate in the same holy city. Agabus’ speech echoes Jesus’ prediction that he would be delivered into the hands of Gentiles (Matthew 20:18-19; Mark 9:31, 10:33; Luke 18:32). Paul would suffer the same indignities as his Lord.

Agabus, a seemingly incidental character, has found his way into discussions of the very nature of prophecy. His case has been thrown into the debate between continuationists and cessationists. Continuationists affirm that the gift of prophecy has continued to the present age while cessationists do not. If inaccurate, Agabus becomes significant as he provides the only example of fallible prophecy in the New Testament.

Others have posited that Agabus’ words are proof that prophecy is not as bound as Agabus himself. Gregory A. Boyd (b. 1957) writes:

Several things are interesting about Agabus’s prophecy. First, it is clear from the response of Paul’s comrades that they did not consider this prophetic message to be a declaration of what was certainly going to happen in the future, for they immediately tried to persuade Paul not to go to Jerusalem (Acts 21:12). Instead they interpreted the prophecy as a warning about what would happen to Paul if he chose to go to Jerusalem...Second, it is interesting to note that even after Paul decided to go to Jerusalem, things did not transpire exactly as Agabus had prophesied...Contrary to Agabus’s prophecy, the Jews never bound Paul and handed him over to the Romans. Instead, the Romans rescued Paul from the Jews...Such a turn of events is troubling to the classical understanding of divine foreknowledge and the understanding of divine prophecy that usually accompanies it...If the future is partly composed of possibilities and probabilities, however, then this prophecy is a perfect assessment of what would generally happen based on the Lord’s perfect knowledge of the present disposition of the Jews in Jerusalem. (Boyd, God of the Possible: A Biblical Introduction to the Open View of God, 168-69)

Despite the minor inconsistencies, Acts clearly intends for Agabus’ prophecy to be read as genuine and accurate. The text does not criticize Agabus, rather it consistently presents him as a prophet (Acts 11:27-28, 21:10). Nor does it note any discrepancy between prophecy and fulfillment. Perhaps most tellingly, Paul’s own words in recounting his demise echo Agabus’ (Acts 28:17). For Acts, Agabus is proven correct.

The ominous implication of Agabus’ binding is obvious and the added word is likely unnecessary: While Agabus does not go so far as to mention death, trouble awaits Paul in Jerusalem. Paul who had set out to bind believers is to be a bound believer himself (Acts 9:2).

Why does Agabus reenforce his prophecy with both words and signs? Would one or the other not have been sufficient? Why does Agabus bind himself and not Paul? Have you ever been bound? Is there a place to accompany words with acting/skits in modern worship? Does prophecy need be filled exactly? Is Agabus’ prophecy correct?

All who hear Agabus’ prophecy take heed, including Paul (Acts 21:12-14). They do, however, interpret it differently. Using human deduction, Paul’s friends understand the prophecy as a warning and plead that he alter his course (Acts 21:12). Conversely, Paul views Agabus’ words as confirmation of his calling (Acts 21:13). To Paul, his hands are tied: He is bound to go to Jerusalem (Acts 21:13-14).

Lloyd J. Ogilvie (b. 1930) clarifies:

The Spirit had not given different guidance; Paul and his friends interpreted the guidance differently. It is what the friends and Paul added to the guidance that made the difference. Paul added the resoluteness of previous clarity; his friends added the reserve of tender affection for the apostle. (Ogilvie, Acts (Mastering the New Testament), 297)

While his prophecy is certainly not an encouraging word, Agabus only foretells what will happen; he does not endorse a particular course of action. Unlike a previous revelation, Agabus’ prophecy does not forbid Paul to go to Jerusalem (Acts 16:7-8), it merely prepares him for the trials that loom there. As Paul is the person whom the prophecy concerns, his opinion matters most. And the determined apostle will not be dissuaded from traveling to Jerusalem (Acts 21:13).

The prophecy prepares his friends for the blow and gives Paul the opportunity to declare his willingness to suffer, and even die, for the faith (Acts 21:13). Paul realizes that finding suffering along life’s path does not necessarily indicate that one has made a wrong turn.

Charles H. Talbert (b. 1934) comments:

The paragraph shows that for Luke what will happen in Jerusalem is a part of the divine plan. That Paul and his friends know ahead of time what to expect allows them the opportunity to submit to the divine will, as Jesus did. This is the Pauline Gethsemane. It shows that suffering may be part of the divine will for his servants, even though they be Spirit-empowered (Luke 3:21-22, 4:16-19; Acts 9:17). It shows, moreover, the Spirit-filled person’s submission to the divine will, whatever that may be. If it is to return to Ephesus (Acts 18:21), that is fine; if it is to be imprisoned and die in Jerusalem, that must be done (Acts 21:13). (Talbert, Reading Acts: A Literary and Theological Commentary on the Acts of the Apostles,185)

The Christian is often called to suffer and, in some cases die, for her faith. William H. Willimon (b. 1946) interprets:

Even as Jesus was warned (Luke 9:44, 18:32), so is Paul. The servants of God may be empowered and gifted with the Spirit, but this in no way exempts them from suffering for the cause of truth (Acts 9:17; Luke 3:21-22, 4:16-19). In Luke’s gospel Jesus accepts suffering and death as part of the way he must walk (Luke 9-23). Paul’s journey towards Jerusalem parallels Jesus’ passion, for Jesus is the “leader” or “pioneer” who goes before the disciple in every way, including the way of pain (Acts 5:31). Whatever prayer “in Jesus’ name” may mean, whatever it means to be “in the Spirit,” it does not mean exemption from pain. (Willimon, Acts (Interpretation: A Bible Commentary for Teaching and Preaching) 160)

Have you ever wished that you were wrong about something? Is Agabus’ intention to reroute Paul? If not to dissuade Paul, what is the point of this prophecy? Why is it so important that Paul sees his trials coming? Is Paul correct in continuing on course to Jerusalem or should he have diverted his path? Have you ever suffered for your faith? Are you willing?

“We do not choose suffering simply because we are told to, but because the One who tells us to describes it as the path to everlasting joy.” - John Piper (b. 1946), Desiring God: Meditations of a Christian Hedonist, Revised Edition, p. 287