Abstract
This article compares the Matthean and Lukan versions of the Lord’s Prayer in view of what Jesus may have intended. It considers the difficulties some have found in Matthew’s ‘as we forgive’ and suggests that Luke altered his source to avoid them, but – against the weight of scholarly opinion – in a way that some today may find shocking.
Few Christians are troubled or even aware of the many questions raised by the different versions of the Lord’s Prayer in Matthew 6, Luke 11 and Didache 8. Some know that the reason for the absence of the well-attested doxology, drawing on 1 Chronicles 29.11–13, from some liturgies is that it is not in the best manuscripts of Matthew or Luke, but textual criticism is a minority interest, safely left to specialists. Close readers of the Gospels know that Luke’s shorter version of the prayer has the intimate ‘Father’ (better ‘Dear Father’), presumably rendering Jesus’ Aramaic Abba (cf. Mark 14.36; Rom. 8.15, Gal. 4.6) rather than Matthew’s more formal liturgical ‘Our Father in heaven’ (the Greek plural ‘heavens’ reflects Hebrew idiom). They know that Luke also lacks Matthew’s other perhaps explanatory and probably moral additions: ‘Thy will be done, as in heaven also on earth’ and ‘but deliver us from evil’ – or the evil one. Luke’s substitution of ‘each day’ for Matthew’s ‘today’ in the bread petition (he adds it also at 9.23) is less noticed. All three changes interpret the prayer primarily in this-worldly, moral terms rather than with the eschatological meanings that some have thought Jesus intended. 1
Those scholars were guided by what they thought Jesus meant by ‘the kingdom of God’ and its coming, but how Jesus understood God’s future rule is less clear than its this-worldly moral implications in the present. It is perhaps safer to be guided by what we think the Gospels mean than by our guesses about the history behind them, unless there are strong reasons to suppose some disagreement between Jesus himself and the main sources of our information about what he did and said and suffered. The bar for any such claim is high, and even if reached, most Christians will still in practice usually be guided by Scripture, assuming that the changes made to the gospel traditions were not without reason, and perhaps even providential. Without doubting the eschatological dimension to Jesus’ message and all Christian talk of God, its moral dimension is far more prominent in Matthew’s version of this prayer and is underlined by Jesus himself having included a reminder that we must forgive others. Elsewhere, Matthew makes Jesus’ eschatological teaching about judgement serve to reinforce his moral message. That is a shift in perspective from Jesus, who (I guess) made both eschatology (the kingdom sayings, not the apocalyptic Son of Man sayings that are uncertain) and ethics (wisdom sayings) aspects of his focus on God and his vocation to call all Israel to their God who is near.
Some exegetical matters in the prayer remain uncertain – notably the otherwise unknown word epiousion, dubiously translated as ‘daily’, but that is not a cause for concern. ‘Just enough’ is probably right, echoing the story of the manna in Exodus 16, and the new word coined by the earliest translator is perhaps best explained by Jesus echoing Proverbs 30.8f. and the difficulty of translating that into a Greek that is usable in prayer. 2 The Septuagint translation is too philosophical for a daily prayer. None of this is likely to disturb or even interest many today, any more than the different tenses of the imperative ‘give’ (Luke’s present tense means ‘go on giving’, which fits with his ‘each day’). The idea of God leading us into temptation is more disturbing and is often silently prayed as ‘let us not be led’ – by the evil one, or by anyone else, but surely not by God (cf. James 1.13), despite God giving permission at Job 1.12. That pre-Christian story is not to be made into doctrine or apologetics. God permitting bad stuff may be a consequence of freedom, but that is no comfort to Job and not what the Lord’s Prayer is about. The second half of the forgiveness petition, however, is central to the prayer and has puzzled some thoughtful Christians.
The probability that Luke changes Matthew’s ‘debts’ to sins is not a problem and is followed in most prayer books (‘trespasses’). His keeping ‘everyone indebted to us’ (Matthew: ‘our debtors’) is not surprising – we sin against God. When prayer books introduce sin or trespass against others, they are following later manuscripts of Matthew 18.15, but Luke 17.3 follows Matthew’s or Q’s original wording.
The difference between Matthew’s ‘we have forgiven’ and Luke’s present tense ‘we do forgive’ is more substantial. It is usually adjudicated against Matthew in favour of Luke. The underlying Hebrew or Aramaic could be translated either way, but Jesus surely wants us to forgive as often as occasion arises, not just once and for all. Even 77 or 490 times. But Matthew’s ‘as’, included in most liturgical forms, continues to disturb a few, and not without reason. It perhaps worried Luke, who replaced it with his own characteristic ‘for’ phrase (kai gar at 1.66; 6.32, 33; 22.37, 59; Acts 19.40; and following Matthew or Q at Luke 7.8). The phrase occurs 19 times elsewhere in the New Testament. Luke’s alteration here is presumably redactional.
Not many share Luke’s apparent anxiety about Matthew’s ‘as’. Jesus surely meant to reinforce our obligation to forgive by attaching it to our needful prayer for God’s forgiveness. ‘As’ means ‘like’ we do or should do. Two problems remain, however, and one of them is far-reaching. The Evangelists seem to disagree about whether or to what extent God’s forgiveness is conditional, and we may wonder which view is more true to Jesus.
Some think the prayer overdoes our forgiving others. They have felt less sinned against than sinning. While acknowledging his own need for forgiveness, Charles Williams protests: ‘It is simply not true that I, or anyone else except a psychopath wakes every morning with a burning sense of multiple injury and the need of my forgiving it … I am hardly aware of a single debt owing me over the past how many years.’ 3 The problem lies in the ‘and’ that links the bread and forgiveness petitions. But they are entirely distinct, and Luke’s ‘each day’ applies only to the bread, not to Williams not having a daily headache. The (perhaps wrongly translated) ‘daily’ applies only to the bread. There is no clear suggestion in the prayer that we forgive people personally every day, although on a wider scale we might every day in prayer find much that calls for God’s forgiveness. In most cases (e.g. the Shoah), it is not for us to forgive the evil-doers, but, at the personal level, we do have to let things go, and in some matters (however rarely, happily) seek reconciliation. Luke’s implied ‘as often as occasion arises’ is surely more true to Jesus than Matthew’s once and for all debt relief, but Williams was not alone in unconsciously conflating the two petitions and creating a problem not required by the text or intended by Jesus or either Evangelist.
However, Matthew’s ‘as’ remains a problem. It may suggest proportionality, and it sounds rather contractual. Can divine forgiveness be illuminated by human forgiveness, or made commensurate or even compared with it? God’s grace is surely unconditional. Or is that too simple? Matthew apparently thought so – and Luke did not. Do we have to ask which Evangelist was right – i.e. more true to Jesus. Or are both right in some respects? Is Matthew wrong, or being misread?
Kant would add that Matthew (and Jesus) introduces self-interest into morality, which he thinks not good. We should be disinterested in doing the right thing. 4 In defence of Kant, much depends on the context, but Jesus does talk about rewards and punishments. Is that to motivate us by appealing to our baser instincts? Or does God really punish? Matthew leaves us in no doubt with his sixfold repetition of weeping and gnashing of teeth. Divine judgement includes hellfire. Matthew has more about hell than any NT writer. But how literally did Jesus or even Matthew intend this? Would Jesus respond like the fierce Calvinist preacher who, when challenged from the back of the kirk with ‘What about us that don’t have no teeth?’ snarled that ‘Teeth will be supplied!’ Surely not.
The threats can be set aside without weakening the urgency of divine judgement. The issue here is rather that Matthew seems to have understood divine forgiveness to be conditional. That is clear from his appending to the prayer at 6.14f. two verses absent from Luke. The conditional ‘if you forgive … if not …’ is harsh, but Matthew’s view is uncomfortably clear also in the parable of the unmerciful servant (18.21–35). Luke omits that too. He also omits Mark 11.25, where the hina could imply that forgiveness is conditional, but since that verse is absent from Matthew too, and Mark 11.26 is certainly secondary, added in from Matthew 6.15, it is possible – as Bultmann and others think – that Mark 11.25 was also absent from the original and their copies of Mark. As regards Matthew 18, the pictorial language of the parable (vv. 25, 34) need not (despite v. 35) be taken literally, but it often is, and it then gives a stern (some would say nasty) view of God (those poor children and their mother). What did Matthew think? And Jesus – especially if Mark 11.25 is not original, or its hina is translated less strictly as ‘so then’? Divine judgement and human accountability are central to the Christian gospel, but punishment? At least theologians no longer get sacked as Maurice was for denying eternal punishment. But should Protestants bring back purgatory? Dante is very popular in some quarters.
Even Luke has a parable (16.19–31) in which hellfire reinforces Jesus’ teaching about sharing our possessions, and every Christian needs to reflect on the cost of wilfully chosen separation from God. But Luke’s touch is lighter and rarer than Matthew’s, and he avoids Matthew’s ‘as’ in the Lord’s Prayer. He repeats Jesus’ teaching about rewards (Mark 10.29–30) at Luke 18.29–30, adding a qualifier, ‘for the sake of the kingdom of God’, which is surely true to Jesus, but if (as I think) he knew Matthew’s Gospel (as well as Mark and some Q traditions; cf. 1.1), his alteration of his source at 11.4b was deliberate. All the commentaries translate his alternative wording ‘for we also forgive’, retaining a hint of conditionality or do ut des, without Matthew’s proportional ‘as’. But his ‘for’ can be weakened if his Greek kai (and, also) is translated differently. The word can often mean ‘even’ (ascensive use) – since, unlike Latin, French, German, English and other languages, Greek has no separate word for ‘even’. So Austin Farrer translated Luke 11.4b ‘for even we let off any that owe us debts’. 5 He did not discuss his innovation – it occurs in a sermon. Luke adds ‘ourselves’ for emphasis, but that fits either translation of kai (even or also).
Against the weight of professional biblical scholarship, Farrer was (I think) probably right about Luke at this point, though not in his elaboration of it, 6 because (unlike Matthew) he appends to the prayer the amusing parable of the friend at midnight with its ‘even if’ (v. 8). It refers back to the whole prayer, not to the bread petition alone. The sleeper will get up out of shame if not friendship. The following saying about giving their children food, with its emphatic conclusion ‘how much more’ will God act generously, also refers to the whole prayer. The comparison illuminates God’s generosity without Matthew’s threat, and the ‘how much more’ fits Farrer’s ‘for even we’ precisely.
Further linguistic arguments can be adduced in support of Farrer’s suggestion. Luke’s characteristic kai gar means ‘for even’ at 6.32 (cf. v. 33), 7.6 (see Matt. 8.9), 22.59, Acts 19.40, and perhaps also at 1.66 and 22.59. Only at 22.37 is the Lukan phrase clearly non-ascensive. See also kai as ‘even’ at 11.8 and Matthew 5.46, 47, etc.
We may wonder why the commentaries, grammars and dictionaries never consider this ‘for even’ as a possible translation of Luke 11.4b, despite the ‘even if’ in v. 8. Perhaps it seems irreverent (hence even Farrer’s elaboration), like Abraham bargaining with God at Genesis 18.23–33, which might seem cheeky, even coming from a ‘friend of God’ (2 Chron. 20.7; Isa. 41.8; James 2.23 – a phrase that fits Luke – and other disciples of Jesus; John 15.14). Or is it too humorous in a prayer? But here Luke is a storyteller, not a liturgist, as he was when (as I think) he composed the Magnificat, Benedictus, Nunc Dimittis and Glory be to God on High, and we can find the same gentle humour of 11.8 in some of his other parables (and Acts). Abrupt changes of tone nevertheless reinforce the seriousness of the teaching in these parables (14.8–10; 16.1–8; 18.1–5). There is no question of Luke endorsing Heine’s flippant ‘Dieu me pardonnera, c’est son métier’ – a quote often attributed to Voltaire.
A more sober appraisal of Farrer’s suggestion may be found by comparing it with Gregory of Nyssa’s On the Lord’s Prayer 5: ‘I dare propose that, just as the good is accomplished in us by imitating God, so also it is hoped that God himself will imitate our own deeds whenever we achieve anything good.’ 7 This is not quite a parallel, but reflects the same intimacy with God in prayer that Luke saw in Jesus, and perhaps that he himself shared with Gregory and Farrer, and wanted all Christians to share.
We do not have to choose between Luke’s and Matthew’s Jesus, even if we find one portrait more attractive than the other. Jesus could no doubt be encouraging to his disciples and stern to his opponents – even angry, despite Matthew 5.22. But this passage in Luke is part of a narrative, teaching persistence in prayer positively, not warning of divine judgement here. Jesus taught his disciples both to ask God’s forgiveness and to forgive others. The connection he makes between them is more about imitating God (as Gregory noted) than setting conditions, and Luke was perhaps right to correct Matthew at this point without his touch of humour weakening the instruction to forgive others. Whether his aside was intended to be a joyful intimacy as well as, of course, being utterly serious, and whether it is thought true to Jesus, depends on the kind of intimacy with God in prayer that we find implied by Luke’s opening Abba, dear Father.
But is Matthew 6.12b such a difficult text as some, including perhaps Luke, have found it? Our discussion has related the Evangelists’ differing emphases to the natural if uncertain criterion of asking what did Jesus mean (or WWJS). The uncertainties of historical Jesus research leave readers and interpreters of the Gospels with plenty of wiggle room. But Matthew’s version of the prayer has mostly won out over Luke, and his hellfire has resonated in much popular religion over the centuries, especially Roman Catholic and Calvinist. It is therefore worth noting in conclusion some of the good thinking his severity has encouraged.
In a helpful response to an earlier version of this article, David Catchpole reflected on how other ‘relevant traditions dealing with disrupted relationships between one person and another are elsewhere brought into connection with forgiveness’. Recognizing that Matthew 18.23–35 is added as commentary on what precedes (18.21f. – 77 times or 490), just as 6.14f. are added to the prayer, he agrees that they both show what Matthew meant. ‘Those who are not able to confirm that they have exercised, or are going on exercising, forgiveness have no right to ask for it from God or to assume that God’s forgiveness is irrevocable.’ Discussing Matthew 5.23f., Catchpole notes ‘the extremely determined effort … to achieve reconciliation’. As in 18.10ff., ‘the effort to resolve it [the disruption] is to be given priority and is therefore a condition, but not in the sense of exerting any kind of pressure on God but rather clearing the ground, as it were, for an unhindered petition for divine forgiveness which is not without strings attached’. 8
That is true to Matthew, and if that Matthean picture of Jesus seems different from Luke’s, the canon nevertheless bids us attend to both witnesses and learn from both. Whether Jesus attached strings is less clear, but I was also reminded again of our revered teacher Charlie Moule’s essay: ‘“As we forgive …” a note on the distinction between deserts and capacity in the understanding of forgiveness.’ 9 He conceded that the prayer might be making divine forgiveness conditional on humans forgiving one another but denied that this made the former a consequence of the latter or a reward for it. He took Matthew’s ‘as’ to refer to the human capacity to receive divine forgiveness. Only the person who forgives can begin to understand and truly receive God’s forgiveness. It is not deserved or earned, contrary to the impression given by much Western penitential practice and ecclesiastical discipline.
That is surely right, whether or not Matthew (or Jesus) had it in mind. It recalls Rosamond Herklots’ hymn: ‘How can your pardon reach and bless the unforgiving heart that broods on wrongs and will not let old bitterness depart?’ Both divine generosity and human disposition are essential to reconciliation and in that sense the latter is perhaps a condition for receiving forgiveness and so rightly included in baptismal liturgies and even daily prayer. Luke emphasizes repentance in tandem with forgiveness, like other early Christian writers, notably Hebrews 6.1, 1 Clement 7 and 8, and Hermas (I can imagine a group in Rome in the 90s collecting, editing and adding to Paul’s letters), but the prodigal son’s repentance is not a condition of the father’s forgiveness and Luke’s addition of ‘unto repentance’ to Mark 2.17 (calling sinners) has been questioned (unfairly?) for blunting the radicalism of Jesus and the unconditional grace of God in Christ. In the parable, the prodigal does of course repent, and he would not be asking the father’s forgiveness without it, but the father’s love is unconditional. In the same collection of parables, the fastidious might comment that sheep and coins do not repent (cf. 15.7, 10), but Luke’s emphasis on repentance is well taken. As well as understanding it individually, we may want to add the corporate dimension to include our unwilling complicity in world starvation, global warming, proxy wars, unbridled capitalism, etc. Luke’s ‘every day’ can then be appropriately extended to embrace the request for forgiveness that surely does imply repentance. That answers the qualms of Charles Williams. 10
The first-person plurals in the Lord’s Prayer are vital, as the corporate aspect is a necessary part of Christian life. The New Testament rarely speaks of the (universal) Church rather than local congregations, but it constantly speaks of believers in the plural and most of its ecclesiological images assume fellowship. Mutual forgiveness is part of the deal (covenant). If Farrer’s suggestion seems to make Luke’s emendation into a harmless aside, more like a plea in mitigation than a Matthean hardline condition, they could both respond that ‘for’ (gar) means ‘because’, and that Luke’s softer note of conditionality (if present at all) avoids disturbing his portrait of the compassionate God evident in his narrative of Jesus’ ministry and teaching. 11 At least his alteration of Matthew (or Q) invites further reflection on the different portraits of the Evangelists, and on the gospel of Jesus itself, and on Christian character in responding to God in Jesus.