When Jesus Broke All the Rules (And Why That Changes Everything)
What’s Matthew 9 About?
This is where Jesus completely upends the religious establishment by forgiving a paralyzed man’s sins, eating with tax collectors and sinners, and basically rewriting the rules of what it means to follow God. It’s a masterclass in compassion over compliance, and it’ll make you rethink everything you thought you knew about faith.
The Full Context
Matthew 9 takes us into the heart of Jesus’ Galilean ministry, probably around 28-29 AD. Matthew, himself a former tax collector, is writing to a predominantly Jewish audience who would have been shocked—and maybe scandalized—by what they’re about to read. This isn’t just ancient history; it’s Matthew saying, “Look, I was there. I saw this happen. And it changed everything.”
The chapter sits perfectly within Matthew’s larger narrative structure. We’ve just witnessed Jesus’ authority over nature and demons in chapter 8, and now we see His authority over sin, social conventions, and religious traditions. Matthew is building a case that this carpenter from Nazareth isn’t just another rabbi—He’s the Messiah who came to flip the script on how we understand God’s Kingdom. The tensions here aren’t just theological; they’re deeply personal and social, touching the raw nerves of first-century Jewish society.
What the Ancient Words Tell Us
The opening scene with the paralyzed man gives us one of those moments where the Greek reveals something stunning. When Jesus says “Take heart, son; your sins are forgiven” in Matthew 9:2, the word for “forgiven” is aphiemi—which literally means “to send away” or “to release.” But here’s what’s fascinating: Jesus uses the perfect passive tense, which means the forgiveness is a completed action with ongoing effects.
Grammar Geeks
The perfect passive tense Jesus uses for “forgiven” doesn’t just mean “I forgive you right now.” It means “your sins have been completely sent away and they stay sent away.” It’s the difference between getting a temporary hall pass and having your criminal record permanently expunged.
But the religious leaders hear something else entirely. When they accuse Jesus of blasphemy, they’re using the word blasphemia, which means “injurious speech” or “slander against God.” In their minds, only God can forgive sins, so Jesus is either God or He’s committing the ultimate religious crime. There’s no middle ground here.
The scene with Matthew the tax collector in Matthew 9:9 uses a simple but powerful word: akolouthei (“follow”). It’s not just about physical following—it’s the technical term for discipleship. When Jesus says “Follow me” to a tax collector, He’s essentially saying, “Join my inner circle,” to someone most rabbis wouldn’t even talk to.
What Would the Original Audience Have Heard?
Picture the shock waves this would have sent through first-century society. Tax collectors weren’t just unpopular—they were considered religious and social outcasts. They collected taxes for Rome, often skimming extra profit, and were grouped with prostitutes and sinners in the minds of devout Jews.
Did You Know?
Tax collectors had to buy their positions from Rome and then collect enough to pay Rome back plus make a profit. Most Jews saw them as collaborators and traitors. A rabbi eating with tax collectors would be like a respected pastor today hosting a dinner party for organized crime bosses and corrupt politicians.
When Jesus sits down to eat with “tax collectors and sinners” in Matthew 9:10, He’s not just being friendly—He’s making a radical theological statement. In Jewish culture, sharing a meal meant acceptance and fellowship. The Pharisees’ question in verse 11 isn’t just curiosity; it’s accusation. They’re essentially saying, “Why is your Teacher contaminating himself?”
Jesus’ response about the sick needing a doctor would have hit like a thunderbolt. He’s not just defending His actions—He’s redefining the entire mission of God’s Kingdom. The healthy don’t need a doctor; the sick do. He came for the broken, not the self-righteous.
But Wait… Why Did They Fast?
The question about fasting in Matthew 9:14 reveals another layer of religious tension. John the Baptist’s disciples fasted regularly, as did the Pharisees. But Jesus’ disciples didn’t. Why not?
Wait, That’s Strange…
Fasting was so central to Jewish piety that even asking why someone didn’t fast was almost unthinkable.
Jesus’ answer uses wedding imagery that would have been immediately understood. The nymphios (bridegroom) is present—this is party time, not fasting time. But there’s a subtle prophecy hidden here too. He mentions that the bridegroom will be “taken away,” hinting at his coming crucifixion and ascension. The new wine and new wineskins metaphor that follows isn’t just about change—it’s about fundamental incompatibility between the old religious system and the Kingdom Jesus is bringing.
Wrestling with the Text
The two healing stories that close the chapter—the woman with the hemorrhage and Jairus’s daughter—create this beautiful sandwich structure that Matthew uses deliberately. Both involve desperate faith, both involve Jesus’ power over what seems impossible, and both challenge social and religious boundaries.
The woman with the hemorrhage had been ceremonially unclean for twelve years. According to Levitical law, anything she touched became unclean. When she touches Jesus’ cloak in Matthew 9:20, she’s not just seeking healing—she’s risking public shame and religious condemnation.
But here’s what changes everything: instead of Jesus becoming unclean by her touch, she becomes clean by His power. The contamination flow reverses. That’s the Gospel (Good News) right there—Jesus doesn’t avoid the unclean; He makes them clean.
“The Kingdom of God isn’t about avoiding contamination—it’s about being the cure.”
The healing of Jairus’s daughter bookends this perfectly. A synagogue ruler—someone from the religious establishment—humbles himself before Jesus. Death itself bows to Jesus’ authority when He takes the little girl’s hand and says, “Get up.”
How This Changes Everything
Matthew 9 isn’t just a collection of miracle stories—it’s a manifesto. Jesus is systematically dismantling every barrier that kept people from God: sin, social status, religious rules, physical illness, and even death itself.
The chapter reveals Jesus’ heart for the marginalized and broken. When He sees the crowds in Matthew 9:36, He has splagchna—gut-level compassion. This isn’t polite sympathy; it’s the kind of compassion that moves you to action.
His declaration that “the harvest is plentiful but the workers are few” in Matthew 9:37 transforms how we see evangelism. It’s not about convincing reluctant people to follow God—it’s about recognizing that people are already hungry for what God offers. They just need someone to show them the way.
Key Takeaway
Jesus didn’t come to fix the religious system—He came to replace it with something entirely new. His Kingdom is for the broken, the outcast, and the desperate, not the self-righteous who think they have it all figured out.
Further Reading
Internal Links:
- Matthew 9:2 – Your sins are forgiven
- Matthew 9:9 – Follow me
- Matthew 9:36 – Compassion for the crowds
External Scholarly Resources:
