By Fred Sanders
The Scriptorium
I’ve stopped saying “Just before he ascended into heaven, Jesus gave his disciples the Great Commission.” Here’s why:
When I teach about the Great Commission (Matt 28:18-20),
I underline its importance by showing that these are the last words
Jesus speaks at the end of the gospel of Matthew. I love to explore how
ideas and motifs from the beginning of the gospel are fulfilled here:
the angel tells us at the beginning of Matthew that Jesus’ name will be
Immanuel, God with us, and here at the end Jesus assures us, “I am with
you always.” I love to point out that the language of “the Father and
the Son” in the Great Commission builds on Jesus’ teaching in Matthew 11
(“No one knows the Father except the Son,” etc.).
The Great Commission, especially with its ringing trinitarian
formulation, sometimes strikes us as a surprise ending to the gospel,
but in fact it’s a fabulous consummation of leading ideas in the book.
It’s how the gospel of Matthew ends with a bang. To see this is to see
that all 28 chapters are part of the trinitarian gospel message that
finally comes to articulation at the end.
Over
the years of teaching on this passage, I have also developed a habit of
saying that these are the last words that Jesus says before he ascends
into heaven. It sounds more dramatic to put it that way: that his death
and resurrection are behind him, he has spent 40 days with the
disciples, and is now going to the Father. And his final words are the
command to make disciples.
But here’s the problem: When I put it that way, I jump from Matthew
to Luke. I cut the lines of argument that Matthew has carefully laid
out, or I tangle them with the ascension story that is so crucial in
another gospel, Luke’s gospel.
How bad is it to do that? I don’t know.
No, I mean I really don’t know, it’s beyond me. I can name and describe a few of the dynamics of Matthew.
But I can never be sure I’ve seen everything, because it’s holy, and
deep, and written by two authors (one human, one divine) who are way
ahead of me.
But one thing I’ve noticed is that Matthew does not end his gospel
with the story of the ascension. His gospel is about God being with us
in Christ, and it ends with… God being with us in Christ. He stands
there and says, “I am with you always.” Wouldn’t it be a little silly if
he had said this and then had flown away? Wouldn’t that be the wrong
way to conclude? Wouldn’t that be a worse ending for a gospel that has
emphasized how God is present among us in the person of Jesus? Doesn’t
Matthew have to end with Jesus standing exactly there, as the narration just stops?
By innocently jumping from one gospel to another, I’ve been messing
up the flow of thought of at least one of them. What I ought to do is be
more careful about how I embellish the biblical accounts of things. I
need to attend much more closely to what the Spirit is saying in the
words of each biblical book.
I think of this as learning to trust the words and thought-patterns
of scripture. I want to swim with the current that is flowing through
Scripture, not across it. If I can stay consistent with Matthew’s way of
thinking and talking, I can be in a position to pick up all kinds of
momentum and nuance from what the Holy Spirit has planned and put in
place in that book. If I jump from one frame of reference to another, my
arguments may only be as good as I can make them with my own clever
connection-making. But if I’ve got the current of Matthew behind me, I
may say something that can hit an audience with a power greater than my
own words or insights.
Of course by comparing the two gospels, we are able to say that,
historically speaking, Jesus must have said these words and then later
ascended. That’s how the end of Matthew and the end of Luke can be
harmonized. That must be how it actually happened in history. But by
presenting it that way, I am opting out of the stories told by both
Matthew and Luke, and am preferring a historical reconstruction of my
own making. Even though it’s a pretty good reconstruction, it’s not
divinely inspired. So it could be faulty, and it will certainly be weak
in comparison to God’s word.