To Be Crucified (20:17–19)
On the road up to Jerusalem, Jesus takes the twelve aside for the third time to tell them what is waiting for him there.
See, we are going up to Jerusalem. And the Son of Man will be delivered over to the chief priests and scribes, and they will condemn him to death and deliver him over to the Gentiles to be mocked and flogged and crucified, and he will be raised on the third day (20:18–19).
The prediction follows the shape of the first two (16:21; 17:22–23), but one word is new. Twice before, Jesus said he would be killed. Here he names how. Mark and Luke both keep the general verb “kill” here (Mark 10:34; Luke 18:33). Only Matthew has Jesus say σταυρόω (stauroō), “to crucify.”
The disciples have heard about a cross before, and both times Jesus was talking about them: whoever does not take his cross and follow him “is not worthy of me” (10:38), and anyone who would come after him must “take up his cross and follow me” (16:24). Jesus told the twelve to carry a cross long before he told them he would die on one.
The other verbs have a history too. When Jesus first sent the twelve out, he warned them that men would “deliver you over to courts and flog you in their synagogues” (10:17). Later he tells Jerusalem’s leaders that he is sending them prophets, wise men, and scribes, “some of whom you will kill and crucify, and some you will flog in your synagogues” (23:34). The same two verbs, μαστιγόω (mastigoō, “to flog”) and σταυρόω, describe what will happen to Jesus and to those who follow him. “A disciple is not above his teacher,” Jesus had said, “nor a servant above his master” (10:24).
From here on, Matthew keeps the word before us. Two days before Passover, the Son of Man “will be delivered up to be crucified” (26:2). Before Pilate, the crowd shouts, “Let him be crucified!” (27:22–23). After the soldiers mock him, they lead him away εἰς τὸ σταυρῶσαι (eis to staurōsai), “to crucify him” (27:31), the same Greek construction Jesus used on the road. What he said in private, Matthew shows carried out in public, word for word.
Jesus never asked the twelve to face anything he would avoid himself. But he did ask them to carry a cross before they knew what a cross would cost him, and most of us are still where they were. We call a difficult coworker or a chronic inconvenience “my cross to bear,” and we’re comfortable with self-denial as long as it stays abstract. Jesus named the courts, the mockery, the flogging, and the cross. He also named the end: “he will be raised on the third day” (20:19). The cross he gives us has the same shape as his, and resurrection lies on the far side of it.
The Right Words (20:29–34)
Two men without name or sight or a place in the procession address Jesus with the title his own disciples have only begun to understand. They cannot see him; they can only hear that he is passing by. Their cry duplicates, almost word for word, the plea of the two blind men Jesus healed earlier in Galilee: “Have mercy on us, Son of David” (9:27).
The crowd traveling with Jesus will not tolerate it. The verb Matthew uses for their objection, ἐπιτιμάω (epitimaō), “to rebuke,” is a hard word in this Gospel. It is what Jesus does to the wind and the sea (8:26) and to a demon convulsing a boy (17:18). The crowd treats two beggars’ confession of Jesus as something dangerous, something to be silenced like an unclean spirit.
But they are not silenced. Matthew repeats the verb κράζω (krazō), “to cry out,” and intensifies it: they cried out (ἔκραξαν) once, and after the rebuke they cried out μεῖζον, “all the more” (20:30–31). Of everyone on that road, only Jesus stops for the two people others are trying to silence.
“What do you want me to do for you?” he asks (20:32).
Before he touches their eyes, Matthew says he is moved by σπλαγχνίζομαι (splagchnizomai), the same verb used earlier to express his compassion for the crowds who were “like sheep without a shepherd” (9:36). He touches their eyes. They see, and they follow him (20:34).
The next scene in Matthew’s Gospel recalls this moment. Days later, the crowds who escort Jesus into Jerusalem take up the very cry the crowd on the Jericho road had just tried to stop, and Matthew uses the same verb a third time. “Hosanna to the Son of David,” they cry out, ἔκραζον (21:9). The title that sounded like a disturbance on the road becomes the city’s own liturgy. Matthew has let two forgotten men rehearse, days ahead of time and to no applause, the very confession the whole city will soon perform for an afternoon and then abandon by the end of the week.
Except these two men received healing, while the city received a pronouncement of judgment. Perhaps the city should have been crying out for mercy to the Son of David rather than welcoming him as a conquering king. The juxtaposition of these two scenes should remind us that just getting the words right isn’t enough.
A Ransom for Many (20:20–28)
The mother of James and John approaches Jesus with a specific request. She wants seats of honor for her sons at his right hand and left in his kingdom. The other ten disciples’ indignation at the question (v. 24) suggests they shared the same idea; they were simply annoyed someone else asked first. Jesus recognizes that they all need to understand the true way to greatness.
“You know that the rulers of the Gentiles lord it over them, and their great ones exercise authority over them. It shall not be so among you. But whoever would be great among you must be your servant, and whoever would be first among you must be your slave, even as the Son of Man came not to be served but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many” (20:25–28).
The climax of that teaching goes back to Isaiah. In the fourth Servant Song (Isa 52:13–53:12), Yahweh’s Servant suffers not for his own wrongdoings but for the sake of “the many.”
“He poured out his soul to death and was numbered with the transgressors; yet he bore the sin of many, and makes intercession for the transgressors” (53:12).
“His soul” (נֶפֶשׁ, nefesh) and “the many” (רַבִּים, rabbim) are the key terms. The LXX translates nefesh as ψυχή and rabbim as πολλῶν — and these are precisely the words Matthew uses in 20:28: δοῦναι τὴν ψυχὴν αὐτοῦ λύτρον ἀντὶ πολλῶν, “to give his soul as a ransom for many.” Jesus references Isa 53:12 to frame his coming death in the exact language Isaiah used for the Servant’s vicarious self-giving.
That identification redefines the entire passage. Servant leadership in the kingdom is not a management philosophy or style; it is a cruciform pattern modeled after the Servant who gave his ψυχή as λύτρον for the πολλοί. The call to be “slave of all” follows the example of the one who fully embodied Isaiah’s Servant. In this kingdom, seats of honor are not taken. Their mother had asked for places at Jesus’ right and left. By week’s end, those seats were occupied (27:38), and no disciple had claimed them.
“What Then Will We Have?” (20:1–16)
At the end of ch. 19, Peter asks a question that lurks inside many disciples’ hearts.
“See, we have left everything and followed you. What then will we have?” (Matt 19:27, ESV).
Jesus told the rich young man to sell everything and give to the poor, and the man walked away. That interaction causes Peter, who has actually left everything to follow Jesus, to wonder what his reward will be for doing what the rich young man could not. Jesus promises rewards—thrones, hundredfold returns, eternal life—but then adds a jarring qualification: “But many who are first will be last, and the last first” (19:30).
The following parable (Matthew’s “for” in 20:1 connects it directly to this statement) explains why Jesus issues this warning just as Peter begins calculating his heavenly portfolio. A landowner hires workers at different times throughout the day, then pays everyone the same wage, starting with the last hired. The workers who work all day, expecting more, receive exactly what they agreed to. Their complaint reveals the problem:
“These last worked only one hour, and you have made them equal to us who have borne the burden of the day and the scorching heat” (20:12).
This is also Peter’s problem. He has carried the burden. He has sacrificed. He believes he deserves more than most. The landowner’s response gets straight to the core of the issue:
“Am I not allowed to do what I choose with what belongs to me? Or do you begrudge my generosity?” (20:15).
We cannot be the arbiters of God’s grace. We cannot control when God calls someone or how much grace he dispenses. Some enter the vineyard as children; others arrive minutes before the workday ends. Some appear to us as deserving; others seem like questionable candidates for divine favor. God’s grace operates according to his equity, not ours, and it is offered freely to all without our input or approval.
The danger Jesus warns against here is viewing discipleship as a transaction and service as a way to earn heavenly rewards. Peter’s question—“What then will we have?”—exposes a heart still linked to following Jesus for “what’s in it for me.” Jesus does offer rewards, but he refuses to let his disciples serve mainly for those rewards. The call is to faithfulness, service, and sacrifice that mirrors his own coming death. We trust that God will settle the account on the last day, when many who seem last by our standards will be first by his, and vice versa. Until then, we serve without resenting the very generosity and mercy that is our only hope.