But seeing the crowds, he went up into the mountain, and having sat down, his disciples came to him;
Crowds have been streaming to Jesus from every direction, and now He climbs a hillside and sits down to teach. The first verse already raises three questions: which mountain, who was listening, and what kind of teaching this is.
Jesus taught with a whole country's attention already fixed on Him.
The attention of the whole country was drawn to Him, and vast crowds followed Him, eager to hear His gracious words. So He unfolds the character of the kingdom of heaven, and of the people who would enter it, in what is commonly called the Sermon on the Mount. It opens with the beatitudes.
Older English Bibles read "a mountain" here. That is not quite what the wording says.
In Matthew 5:1; 14:23; and Mark 3:13, "the mountain" does not mean one particular mountain well known by that name. Nor does it mean "a mountain," as the King James Version has it. It means "the mountain" in the sense of the hill country or highlands, in contrast with "the plain."
His posture carries meaning too.
I take it that the Lord sitting there suggests the Teacher. When we read of the Lord walking, disciples are to see in Him the example they should follow. But when He sits, it is more as Teacher. A completely new set of principles is coming out, and the Lord sits as the great Teacher of this crowd.
The scene recalls Moses on a mountain. But the One seated here is greater.
The Spirit in Matthew loves to present Christ as the One like Moses, whom they were to hear. He presents Jesus not simply as a law-giving prophet-king like Moses, but far greater. It is never forgotten that the Nazarene was the Lord God. That is why this whole sermon on the mountain carries the tone of One who knew Himself to be God with men. Jehovah called Moses up to the top of one mount. Now He who then spoke the Ten Commandments sat on another mount. There He taught His disciples the character of the kingdom of heaven.
The verse names two groups: the crowds He saw, and the disciples who came to Him. Who He speaks to shapes how we read the rest.
The crowds were present, but He addressed the discourse to His disciples… In the sermon on the mount He lays down the principles of the kingdom. He describes the character of those who would enjoy its privileges. He gives definite directions for how they are to live… So moral principles and precepts, not redemption, are the subject of the discourse.
Another man once climbed a mountain and came back with law.
Moses, the mediator of the old covenant, went up into the mountain where he received the law. But here is a greater one than Moses: the Mediator of a better covenant, and the King at the same time. He begins with blessings, the blessings of grace.
Yet this sermon is not an offer of salvation.
As to the sermon, it teaches the righteousness that belongs to all who enter the Kingdom of the heavens. Only those born of the Spirit can meet the state of soul that is blessed in the Lord's eyes. It is not a requirement as on Sinai, but Christ's description of those who suit the Kingdom. Not a word of grace to sinners is uttered. It is not the gospel of God's grace to the lost. It is His words for His disciples, and personal obedience is the rock at its close.
Luke's Gospel places a very similar sermon on level ground. Is that a second sermon, or the same one?
- Crowds — The whole country's attention was on Him, and vast crowds followed. That gathering is the setting of the sermon.
- Mountain — "The mountain" means the hill country, not a named peak. It marks the kind of ground, not a landmark.
- Seated — When the Lord walks He is the example; when He sits He is the Teacher, and a new set of principles begins.
- Greater — Moses climbed one mount to receive the law. Here the One who spoke the Ten Commandments sits on another mount and opens with blessings.
- Disciples — The crowds listen, but He speaks to His disciples. His subject is the character of the kingdom, not redemption.
and, having opened his mouth, he taught them, saying,
Matthew's Gospel has spent four chapters presenting the King. Here the King begins to speak. One short line of narrative carries a great deal: who was listening, what He taught, and by what right He taught it.
The setting itself is affectionate. The teaching that follows also has a shape.
And now we read, "When He sat down, His disciples came to Him. And He opened His mouth and taught them" (Matt. 5:1-2). Oh, how He loves to have His own near Himself. You will notice that there are nine "Blessednesses." You will also see that they divide into first seven, and then two.
The mouth that opens here has its own story across the Gospels.
As a dependent Man He relied on God's mouth, the Giver and Sustainer of life (Matt. 4:4; Luke 4:4). In His earthly ministry the Lord opened His mouth to teach and bless (Matt. 5:2ff). And as the Revealer of secrets He opened His mouth as foretold by the prophet (Matt. 13:35).
Verse 1 mentions the crowds, but the word "them" points at a narrower group. Reading the sermon well starts with getting this right.
In that discourse, then, the Lord had His own disciples right in front of Him... The disciples were a group who had truly received Jesus as the Messiah by the Spirit of God. Judas was an exception, and so was any other special case like him, if there were any. They had not chosen Him, but He had chosen them, that they should go and bear fruit, and that their fruit should remain. They were gathered around Him as His witnesses. Even now they were separated from the rest of the nation in a measure — that is, in faith and affection to His person. Soon His death and resurrection would separate them far more fully, and so would the power of the Holy Spirit sent down from heaven.
A teacher going up a mountain to speak to Israel had happened once before, and the contrast is the point.
The first section in the fifth chapter, from verse one to verse sixteen, is before us. Seeing the crowds, He went up on the mountain, and when He sat down, His disciples came to Him. And He opened His mouth and taught them. Moses, the mediator of the old covenant, went up into the mountain where he received the law. But here is a greater one than Moses: the Mediator of a better covenant, and the King at the same time. He begins with blessings, the blessings of grace.
What follows verse 2 is often read as advice for anyone. Commentators here read it as instruction for people already inside the kingdom.
As to the sermon, it is instruction in the righteousness proper to all who enter the Kingdom of the heavens. Only those born of the Spirit can meet the state of soul that is blessed in the Lord's eyes. It is not a requirement as at Sinai, but Christ's description of those who suit the Kingdom. Not a word of grace to sinners is spoken. It is not the gospel of God's grace to the lost. It is His words for His disciples, and personal obedience is the rock at its close.
Miss that, and the sermon becomes a ladder for self-improvement.
People do not understand that the Lord was addressing those in relationship with Himself as subjects of grace. So they assume that man in the flesh can produce these moral traits, apart from the new nature given at new birth. And so the whole truth of the gospel is set aside. This is why many admire the Sermon on the Mount while rejecting the truth of the gospel as set out in the New Testament.
He quotes no one. He argues from no earlier teacher.
Note, too, His authority. If it is the glory of other teachers to hide behind their theme, it is not so with Him. He brings His Person to the front, and that without apology, in the most simple and unaffected way. He spoke with authority without stopping to say why, and commanded without declaring His right... He always honoured and fulfilled Holy Scripture. Yet He cites no previous authority for what He says: He taught them as One having authority and not as the scribes.
- He sits — the King takes the teacher's seat and draws His own close, because He loves to have them near Him.
- He opens — the same mouth that lived on God's word and revealed hidden things now opens to teach and bless.
- He addresses — the "them" is the disciples. He chose them, and faith and affection for His person already set them apart from the nation.
- He surpasses — Moses climbed a mountain and came down with law. A greater than Moses climbs one and starts with blessing.
- He commands — this is kingdom righteousness for people already born of the Spirit. The One who speaks it cites no authority above His own.
Blessed [are] the poor in spirit, for *theirs* is the kingdom of the heavens.
The Sermon on the Mount opens by describing who is blessed in the kingdom, and it starts with a quality that runs against everything people admire. Everything turns on what "poor in spirit" means, and on how a kingdom can belong to people who have nothing.
One writer locates this poverty inside a person rather than in their circumstances, and tests it with an everyday example:
The first beatitude, notice, lies at the basis of all the others. It is not only a distinct feature in itself, but it should mark all the others and all who belong to Jesus. Surely nothing can be so necessary to a soul that has to do with God as poverty of spirit. Not poverty in circumstances only, or poverty in words and ways, but in spirit. It is poverty in the heart, the feelings, the inward man, and all before the living God. How often we may have said about someone who has injured us, "I freely forgive him, and I will be the same to him as ever. But I can't forget it for all that." That is not being "poor in spirit."
Another writer traces the order of these blessings and shows where a person enters it:
He really sketches for us a moral picture of the godly remnant who will finally enter the kingdom. He mentions eight things. They begin with poverty of spirit and end with persecution, and their order forms a sequence. Repentance produces poverty of spirit, and there all must start. Then comes the mourning and the meekness that a true sight of oneself produces. After that comes a thirst for the righteousness which is only found in God.
One writer sums up the phrase in three denials:
To be poor in spirit is to have low thoughts of self, to realise that before God I am nothing, I have nothing, I deserve nothing. It would be quite consistent with standing up for what is due to God.
Set that against what people admire, and the contrast is total:
Nothing more contrary to man! What people call "a man of spirit" is exactly the opposite of being poor in spirit. A man of spirit is one who — as Cain was — is determined not to be beaten; a soul who would fight it out with God Himself. He who is "poor in spirit" is the very opposite of this. It is a person who is broken, who feels that the dust is his right place.
Some read the blessing as being about people with little money. The wording itself answers them:
This idea rests on Luke 4: "And He lifted up His eyes on His disciples, and said, Blessed are you who are poor, for yours is the kingdom of God." There the words "in spirit" do not appear. But there is no ground in this text for such an idea… It is a question of the inner man in contrast with the outer. A man who is poor as to this world's goods may have a proud, unbending spirit, while the rich may be truly humble.
These traits describe Christ Himself before they describe anyone else:
We know from the beatitudes how He pronounces blessed those who through grace are like Him poor in spirit. In truth nearly all of these beatitudes are just a description of what Christ was, though given as a character to which blessing belongs. Poor in spirit, meek, pure in heart — who was like Him, the great Peacemaker?
Nobody arrives at this by effort or temperament:
Everyone who is born of God has by grace these characteristics. Poor in spirit is the very first characteristic. The unsaved sinner knows nothing of it. It is altogether the work of the Holy Spirit. It means to take the right place before God, which is in the dust in absolute helplessness. It is the continued attitude of a saved person on the earth — poverty in spirit and entire dependence on the Lord.
One writer separates going to heaven later from living under heaven's rule now:
This is not a question of people going to heaven by and by, but of heaven ruling them now. It is how to go on before you get to heaven.
One writer puts the exchange as a paradox:
This poverty is your riches. You may have the world's riches and yet be poor; you cannot have this poverty without being rich. Poverty of spirit entitles you to Christ's riches.
- Start — repentance produces poverty of spirit. The other seven beatitudes rest on this first one.
- Inward — not an empty purse but a low view of self: I am nothing, I have nothing, I deserve nothing.
- Opposite — the world's "man of spirit" refuses to be beaten; the poor in spirit accepts the dust as his right place.
- Given — no unsaved person has this; it is the Spirit's work, and it is a settled attitude, not a mood.
- Rich — heaven rules such a person now, and Christ's riches already belong to them.
Blessed they that mourn, for *they* shall be comforted.
The second blessing in the Sermon on the Mount puts sorrow and happiness in one sentence. We do not usually put them together. Two questions follow. What sort of mourning did the Lord mean? And when does the comfort come?
Everyone carries a private list of who counts as fortunate. One writer sets that list beside the Lord's and lets the clash stand.
Most people would say, "Blessed are the rich, who can surround themselves with every comfort. Blessed are the joyful, the high-spirited, the independent, who know nothing of hunger and thirst." But the Lord came from heaven. He knew the character that suited the kingdom of heaven. He says, "Blessed are the poor, the mourners, the meek, those who hunger and thirst." That turns the judgment of everyone upside down. It contradicts the thought every human heart holds dear. Yet what a mercy it is for all of us that happiness does not depend on our circumstances, or on how much we own, but on the state of the mind — in one word, on character.
One commentator rules out the obvious reading and names what is meant instead.
Do not read the mourning that comes next as grief over personal sin. It is grief over the results of sin, over the way things now are on the earth. That is how our Lord grieved and mourned.
That sorrow looks outward, at other people, which is what separates it from the blessing before it.
Being poor in spirit is a matter between the soul and God alone. A person could hold it perfectly with nobody at all to mourn over. But to be a "mourner" here means something else. It means being moved to the heart by the condition of those around us, above all their moral and spiritual condition.
Grief by itself is no credential. Tears can flow from a heart that has never been touched where it matters.
There is a mourning that is far from making one blessed. Many can weep over a dead child who cannot mourn over a crucified Saviour. Worldly sorrows hasten our funerals. Worldly grief produces death (2 Corinthians 7:10).
He did not describe a heart He lacked Himself. The blessing is a portrait of Him.
He was, while on earth, the man of sorrows and acquainted with grief. He Himself took our infirmities and bore our diseases. Jesus wept at the grave of Lazarus and over Jerusalem. In that night of deepest gloom He offered up prayers and pleas, with loud cries and tears, to Him who was able to save Him from death (Hebrews 5:7). He was the great mourner and He was comforted; heard because of His reverence, and raised from the dead.
One writer turns this into a question for us.
Do we not find ourselves in a scene where everything is opposed to God? Surely! Can we then love the Lord Jesus Christ, and pass through this scene, and not be mourners? Was not He a mourner when He passed through it?
This sorrow can turn into criticism of others. Three men from the older Scriptures show the alternative.
Do we pass by without caring? Or do we set ourselves above such things and judge others in self-righteousness? … We find such mourning in the Old Testament. Nehemiah said to King Artaxerxes: "Why should not my face be sad, when the city, the place of my fathers' graves, lies in ruins?" Daniel and Ezra also mourned over the unfaithfulness of God's people. … They confessed their people's sin and included themselves in their guilt. They understood that they themselves were no better and that they were part of this people. That is why God owned them and answered them.
The promise does not wait only for the future. One writer describes a grieving woman who met Jesus and found comfort on the spot.
She looked up into His face through her tears, and Jesus wept. Was she not at that moment most blessedly comforted? She had known that He loved her before, but she had never known that He loved her like that. His tears were more eloquent than words, and she found that His sympathy was greater than her sorrow.
One writer reads the promise forward, to a mourning still ahead for the Jewish people.
The believing part of the Jewish people will also go through deep mourning during the great tribulation. That comes just before Christ appears. … But the Lord Himself will comfort them too: "the LORD will again comfort Zion and again choose Jerusalem" (Zechariah 1:17).
- Reversed — The world calls the rich and carefree blessed. Christ calls the mourners blessed, because blessing rests on character, not circumstances.
- Directed — This mourning is not grief over a death, and not just regret over personal sin. It is sorrow over what sin has done to everything around us.
- Tested — Weeping proves nothing on its own; many cry at a graveside who have never mourned over a crucified Saviour.
- Shared — Christ was the great mourner, and He was comforted. His followers mourn with Him. Like Nehemiah, Daniel and Ezra, they count themselves inside the guilt they grieve.
- Answered — Comfort comes now in His sympathy, and comes in full when He appears — nothing wept in His name is forgotten.