We approach the conclusion of liturgical Year A, featuring the Gospel of Matthew, and will soon transition into Year B, which features Mark. This is fitting from a literary and theological standpoint because from his incorporation of the vast majority of Mark’s text and structure, one can infer Matthew’s approval. Mark’s focus is less on Jesus’ teachings and more on baptismal preparation for pagan converts.
Matthew’s two main themes are God’s presence with us in Jesus and the necessary response — obedience and moral behavior. For Matthew, actions and their correspondence to Jesus’ teachings matter most. No other Gospel emphasizes morality and the primacy of forgiveness as stridently. This echoes Old Testament teaching; thus, Matthew serves as a synthetic transition from the Old Covenant to the New Covenant. Only Matthew includes “for the forgiveness of sins” in the eucharistic words of institution (Matt 26:28).
Matthew begins with Jesus’ Old Testament name, Emmanuel, “God with us,” and ends with Jesus’ promise to remain with His Church. Jesus identifies with the suffering person and emphasizes that salvation hinges on one’s response. Jesus is the Son of Man, the suffering just man of the Old Testament, who entrusts Himself to us even to His apparent abandonment on the cross. Jesus is with us from conception to death and beyond. The question posed by the Gospels is whether we are also with Jesus.
Matthew’s model disciple is a silent man of action. Unlike the scribes and Pharisees, with whom he is subtly contrasted, he doesn’t put on airs or split hairs. He hears, obeys, and, like Mary, is at God’s disposal. He is just, “observant of the Law,” the Old Testament’s greatest compliment, and merciful, God’s fundamental quality in both Testaments.
Matthew’s unique last judgment (Matt 25:31-46) identifies these as the primary qualities of the saved. Joseph is in good company. Matthew is too subtle and meticulous for these parallels to be coincidental. Joseph is a model Jew and disciple.
Matthew’s esteem of justice is evidenced in the Beatitudes, in the Sermon on the Mount, but also in a taunt hurled at Jesus that only he records that recalls the suffering just man of the Old Testament: “He trusted in God; let him deliver him now if he wants him. For he said, ‘I am the Son of God.’” (Matt 27:43; see Ps 22:9; Wis 2:12-2). In Matthew, as in Mark, Jesus dies praying the archetypal psalm of the suffering just one, Psalm 22.
The justice of Joseph was transmitted to his son. In Redemptoris Custos (1988), Pope St. John Paul II emphasized the mutual learning and respect that characterized Joseph’s and Jesus’ relationship. Recognizing Jesus’ full humanity, we can aptly say, “Like father, like son.” It would be difficult to find a greater testimony to Joseph.
To become like Joseph, with Jesus, one needs to pursue the goal of total fidelity captured in the Greek word teleios, usually translated as “perfect” but which means “complete, whole, fulfillment” (Matt 5:48). Matthew’s stringent morality is cushioned by his frequent exposition of God’s compassion, mercy, and forgiveness. When we fall short, we are forgiven if we have passed this on to others.
In contrast to the somewhat caricatured Pharisaic way of life of which Matthew is heavily critical, practice is ultimately more important than ritual and even doctrine. Doctrinal misunderstandings correctible by humble receptivity are less perilous than intransigent immorality. Orthopraxis (good conduct) is the foundation and fruit of orthodoxy.
For Matthew, how we treat Jesus as present in fellow Christians and the marginalized determines our destiny. He sets the table for Mark’s emphasis of Jesus’ suffering messiahship and the failings of His followers — in whose footsteps we follow.