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            There are certain stories in the Gospels that we read each year to which we give little attention. If we do pay attention, one question we rarely ask is “what exactly is the significance of this story in the Gospel accounts?” One such place is found in Matthew 20:29-34. In this story, some blind men hear Jesus walking past them in the city of Jericho and they call out to Him saying, “Have mercy on us, Lord, Son of David!”

            In this article I want to ask two questions—what is the significance of this event, and does it matter that it takes place right before the triumphal entry? I am going to use this as an exercise in hermeneutics. While the Christian tradition has historically featured various approaches to interpreting the Bible, I just want to compare two of the most prominent approaches to these questions. First, I want to present the allegorical interpretation proposed by Jerome. This approach was incredibly popular, starting from Origen and gaining even more traction throughout the middle ages. It has been picking up steam again in our day, especially in Reformed circles in the conversations around retrieval. After acknowledging the allegorical option, I want to argue for a meaning of the text which can be found in the literal sense, and rises from Matthew’s authorial intent.

 

The Allegorical Interpretation

            Jerome, the great vulgate translator, was a famous proponent of the quadriga, or the four-fold sense of Scripture.[1] These senses were the literal, the allegorical (spiritual), the tropological (moral), and the anagogical (eschatological).[2] Different authors emphasized different parts of this, some arguing for the predominance of the literal,[3] while others argued that we must move past the literal to the more “spiritual” and mature senses.[4] In the example of these blind men, Jerome jumps quickly away from the literal sense, and heads straight to the spiritual.

            First, he teaches that Jericho represents the wounded and those who sat in darkness, in “the shadow of death.” Thus, Jesus must go down into “the lowly places” in order to deliver them. In this way, the blind men represent everyone who has not yet said, “In your light we will see light.” These blind men lay on the wayside, “because while they seemed to have knowledge of the Law, they were ignorant of the way, that is Christ.” Thus, we should not think of the historical road, men, or crowds in this story, but what they allegorically represent.

            Next, he tells us what the two blind men might picture, although he gives many possible options. They could be a representation of the Pharisees and Sadducees.Jerome also proposes that they “stand for two peoples, the one of the Old Testament and that of the New.” The reasoning here is that both are blind, but each for their own reason. One because he attempts to follow the written law, and the other by attempting to follow the natural law without Christ.

Finally, they could be representative of the Jews. If this is the case, then who is the crowd that rebukes the blind men? Jerome says these could be the Gentiles, who should learn from this story “not to boast and vaunt themselves arrogantly over their root.” This potential interpretation is appealing to Jerome because in his view, the Gentiles have only received their salvation in order to make the “first people” envious of our salvation (Rom. 11:11-24).

In my opinion, Jerome’s line of reasoning reveals two major weaknesses of this interpretive method. First, it is a wax nose. It can mean anything that we want, and there are no guardrails on what a particular passage can be interpreted to mean. Second, this method can never come to a confident conclusion. Because the text can have infinite meanings,[5] then it really has no meaning. The implications for preaching and teaching are obvious. How can a preacher stand in a pulpit and declare, “thus says the Lord” with confidence, if he cannot make a determination as to the actual meaning of a text?[6] There is a better way to approach this story.

 

Matthew’s Intended Meaning

            In order to understand Matthew, we should ask three questions—why does this story take place right before the triumphal entry, why do they ask for mercy, and why do they call him “Son of David?” We will take these in reverse order.

            The title “Son of David” is used by Matthew nine times, and the significance to this is not always obvious.[7] Of course, at times he means for us to see Jesus as the great answer to the promises in 2 Sam. 7 (see 1:1-17). But why would these blind men use this title? If we are reading our New Testaments attune to the Old Testament, an answer rises. First, we should acknowledge that David, though not perfectly, cared for the oppressed and wounded, as we see with Mephibosheth in 2 Sam. 9:1-10. Likewise, when David describes Solomon (and the future king from his line), he says that, “He will deliver the needy when he cries, the poor also, and him who has no helper” (Ps. 72). Thus, as the Son of David, it would be natural to expect Jesus to be one who cares for the needy who call to him.

            Pressing this further, Jesus is the great Son of David, who performs for the helpless even better than David himself. While David did not allow “the blind and the lame” to enter into his house (2 Sam. 5:8), Jesus does. After entering Jerusalem in a scene that resembles Solomon’s coronation (compare 1 Kgs. 1:28-40 ; Matt. 21:1-10), Jesus cleanses the temple, and then welcomes and heals “the blind and the lame” (Matt. 21:14). Thus, Jesus does not share the same weaknesses of His kingly father, but as He fulfills the promises, He also serves as an antitype to David. Indeed, He is a greater David.

            Now, why do the blind men ask for mercy and why does this come before the entry into Jerusalem? I think we can answer both questions at the same time. The text reads, “Have mercy on us, Lord, Son of David (ἐλέησον ἡμᾶς, κύριε, υἱὸς Δαυίδ).” Most commentators recognize that these blind men are quoting the Psalms (e.g., Ps. 6:3, 9:14, 29:11, 30:10),[8] but they do not tell us why this might be significant. So, what might be going on here?

           Since the cry in Matthew and in the Psalm match identically (Ps. 123:3, 122 LXX; Matt. 20:30, 31), I want to offer four pieces of evidence to suggest that Matthew is intentionally alluding to this Psalm. First, though similar cries are found through the Psalter, the only instance when the first person plural pronoun (us) is used is in Psalm 123. Thus, the pleas in the Psalm and in Matthew match exactly. Second, this Psalm happens to be focused on the eyes and the sight of God’s servants (Ps. 123:1, 2). Third, the only solution for the Psalmist is that God might have compassion on him (Ps. 123:2). This kind of compassion is what moves Jesus to heal the blind men (Matt. 20:34). Finally, the faithful ones in the Psalm are mocked and scorned by the proud (Ps.123:3-4). Likewise, the blind men are rebuked by the crowd, and told to be quiet, as they cry out in faith to the Son of David  (Matt. 20:31).

            For these reasons, I think Matthew has Psalm 123 in mind when telling this story, and this helps us to see why it would be placed before Jesus enters into Jerusalem. Psalm 123 is a song of Ascents, intended to be sung as the congregation walked up into Jerusalem and into the temple. Therefore, as Jesus ascends the mountain to go into the temple, Matthew has us contemplating those Psalms which say to us, “Let us go into the house of the Lord” (Ps. 122:1).

 

Conclusion

            The explanation I am proposing should be preferred to the allegorical interpretation for several reasons. On the one hand, it explains the actual words of the text, and answers the questions readers should have. Second, it is constrained by the language and context of the passages. There is no wild speculation, but only a close reading of the text itself. Third, it is still canonical and allows for author-intended typology as it flows out of the biblical author's view of Scripture. Finally, it gives the preacher ground to stand on as they present to their congregation the great Son of David, who helps the weak, and leads us up into the house of the Lord to worship and serve our great God and King.

 

[1] All of the following quotes come from Jerome, Commentary on Matthew, Thomas Scheck trans., (Washington, DC: Catholic University Press, 2008), 229-230.

[2] The fullest study of the quadriga is by Henri de Lubac, Medieval Exegesis: the Four Senses of Scripture, 3 vols. (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1998).

[3] Thomas Aquinas was one such author. He said, “Therefore that first signification whereby words signify things belongs to the first sense, the historical or literal. That signification whereby things signified by words have themselves also a signification is called the spiritual sense, which is based on the literal, and presupposes it. Now this spiritual sense has a threefold division. For as the Apostle says (Heb. 10:1) the Old Law is a figure of the New Law, and Dionysius says (Coel. Hier. i) ‘the New Law itself is a figure of future glory.’ Again, in the New Law, whatever our Head has done is a type of what we ought to do. Therefore, so far as the things of the Old Law signify the things of the New Law, there is the allegorical sense; so far as the things done in Christ, or so far as the things which signify Christ, are types of what we ought to do, there is the moral sense. But so far as they signify what relates to eternal glory, there is the anagogical sense. Since the literal sense is that which the author intends, and since the author of Holy Writ is God, Who by one act comprehends all things by His intellect, it is not unfitting, as Augustine says (Confess. xii), if, even according to the literal sense, one word in Holy Writ should have several senses.” Thomas Aquinas, Summa Theologica, The Fathers of the Dominican Province trans., I.1.10.

[4] A modern example of this is found in Hans Boersma who equates maturing in the faith with moving up into the higher senses, namely, the allegorical. Hans Boersma, Scripture as Real Presence, (Grand Rapids, MI: Baker Academic, 2017), 21-22.

[5] This is not an exaggerated statement. Boersma touts this as though it is a positive thing. He says, “[S]ince the christological reality of the sacrament displays the very character of God, we may expect biblical meaning to be infinite in its possibilities. To retrieve the sacramental exegesis of the church fathers, therefore, is to open ourselves to the infinite mystery of meaning that God invites us to explore in Christ.” Boersma, Scripture as Real Presence, 19.

[6] Historian G. R. Owst has explored the role that allegory played in the pulpit in England, and called some of one of his examples a “pulpit monstrosity” because of how radical and out of control the preaching becomes. G. R. Owst, Literature and Pulpit in Medieval England, (Oxford: Oxford Press, 1961), 63.

[7] Scholars have poured out gallons of ink attempting to explain the importance of every use. Some examples are, James M. Gibbs, “Purpose and Pattern of Matthew’s Use of the Title ‘Son of David,’” NTS 10 (1964): 446-64; Jack Dean Kingsbury, “The Title ‘Son of David’ in Matthew’s Gospel,” JBL 95.4 (1976), 591-602; Wayne Baxter, “Healing and the ‘Son of David’: Matthew’s Warrant,” Novum Testamentum 48.1 (2006), 36-50.  

[8] See for instance, Charles Quarles, Matthew, (Bellingham, WA: Lexham Press, 2022), 509.

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About the Author:  Jared Ebert serves as pastor at Mount Carmel Baptist Church in Williamstown, KY.