Therefore every scribe which is instructed unto the kingdom of heaven. — The verse is interesting as one of the very few passages in which our Lord compares His own work and that of the Apostles after Him to that of the scribes of the Jewish schools. That He was so regarded during His ministry — that men thought of Him as a Rabbi, no less than as a Prophet, or as the Christ — is clear from the facts that He was called by that name (or its equivalent, Master, or Teacher) both by His disciples and by others; that He assumed the office of a scribe, as interpreting the scriptures in the Sabbath services (Luke 4:16); that He questioned with the scribes after their own manner (“Have ye never read?” Matthew 12:3; Matthew 19:4; Matthew 21:16, et al.) and as one of their order. And now He was training the disciples, “unlearned” as they were, to be His successors in that office. They too were sitting at the feet of a Gamaliel — of One greater than Gamaliel. But His method of training was altogether of another kind than that of the Masters of the Schools. It consisted, not in minute comments on the words of the Law, not in the subtleties of an intricate and often revolting casuistry, not in puerile and fantastic legends, but rather in the eternal laws of His Father’s kingdom, and the manifold parables of those laws in the visible universe; in this way it was that He was educating them to be scribes of the kingdom of heaven.
Things new and old. — Our Lord’s own teaching was, of course, the highest example of this union. There were the old eternal laws of righteousness, the proclamation of the true meaning of all that every true teacher had included in the idea of duty and religion, but there were also new truths, such as His own mission as the Head of the divine kingdom and the future Judge of all men, and the work of the Spirit as regenerating and sanctifying. As the years passed, and new facts, such as the Crucifixion, Resurrection, and Ascension, supplied the ground-work for new doctrines, these also took their place in the store-house of the well-instructed scribe. But the words applied also to the manner no less than to the substance of the teaching. Now the old familiar words of Lawgiver and Psalmist, now the gracious words such as man had never heard till then, now illustrations freely drawn, in proverbs or parable, from the world of nature or of men — these too were part of the treasure of the scribe. In that union the scribe of later times, every true teacher of the minds and hearts of men, may find the secret at once of reverence for the past and of courage for the future. So long as they bring forth out of their treasures “things new and old,” we may hope that religious conservatism will be more than the “froward retention” of a custom or a formula, and religious progress more than a reckless love of novelty for the sake of its newness.