Indirect and Subtle Allusions to the Hebrew Bible in the New Testament
Unexpected and Creative Uses
While direct quotations and citations of the Hebrew Bible within the New Testament often receive the most attention of readers, a diverse collection of indirect allusions and echoes exists, revealing a profound intertextual dialogue. These subtle resonances and literary retellings, not immediately obvious, unveil how New Testament authors engaged with and reinterpreted their literary and traditional heritage. Devotional and critical readers alike have dedicated considerable effort to highlighting these connections, uncovering nuanced readings that can challenge or reshape traditional interpretations.
In the annunciation narratives of Samson (Judges 13:6) and Jesus (Matthew 1:20), similar language and motifs suggest an intentional literary parallel between these figures, despite the lack of a direct quote. The descriptions of John the Baptist's appearance and lifestyle (Matthew 3:1-4) bear resemblances to the portrayal of Elijah (2 Kings 1:7-8), implying the authors sought to establish John as a contemporary Elijah, preparing for the Messiah. The Beatitudes (Matthew 5:3-12) contain echoes of Isaiah's prophecies (Isaiah 61:1-3), raising questions about how New Testament authors understood and reinterpreted preceding sacred texts.
These examples offer a glimpse into the intricate literary relationships between the Hebrew Bible and New Testament. As scholars explore further, they uncover readings emerging from various Jewish and Christian traditions, enhancing our understanding of these sacred writings.
The significance of intertextual studies lies in illuminating how New Testament authors shaped what became Christianity's theological foundations by (re)interpreting their inherited traditions. Exploring these allusions and echoes can expand appreciation for how these writings resonate with theological and literary ideas and practices alike.
It also provides insights into the historical and cultural contexts in which these texts were written, shedding light on the worldviews, literature, and interpretive practices of the authors and their communities. Rather than being a source of definitive answers, intertextual explorations can and should prompt further investigation into these collections of allusions and echoes. They challenge assumptions and encourage a deeper engagement with and a broader undertanding of these complex literary and theological traditions.
The woman went and said to her husband, “A man sent from God came to me! He looked like God’s angel—he was very awesome. I did not ask him where he came from, and he did not tell me his name. He said to me, ‘Look, you will conceive and have a son. So now, do not drink wine or beer and do not eat any food that will make you ritually unclean. For the child will be dedicated to God from birth till the day he dies.’” (Judges 13:6-7)
When he had contemplated this, an angel of the Lord appeared to him in a dream and said, “Joseph, son of David, do not be afraid to take Mary as your wife because the child conceived in her is from the Holy Spirit. 21 She will give birth to a son and you will name him Jesus because he will save his people from their sins.” (Matthew 1:20)1
The annunciation narratives found in Judges 13:6 and Matthew 1:20 display striking parallels that suggest the New Testament author was intentionally echoing the earlier biblical account. In both passages, a divine messenger appears to announce the forthcoming birth of a son to a human recipient. The messenger in Judges is described as "a man sent from God" who “looked like God's angel,” while Matthew's account refers to "an angel of the Lord." This shared use of angelic figures sets the stage for a pivotal pronouncement about the children to be born.
A central component of both annunciation messages is the divine origin and purpose of the conceived child. This emphasis on the children's sacred status and mission establishes a parallel between these two pivotal figures in the divine plan. Furthermore, both accounts include specific instructions for the expectant mothers.
Scholars have noted that the language used in Matthew's annunciation bears striking resemblances to the standard annunciation message found in ancient Jewish literature. As Raymond E. Brown suggests, certain phrases like “she will give birth to a son” and “he will save his people from their sins” align with the expected elements of this literary form.2 However, Matthew's account also incorporates elements from the “angelic dream pattern,” such as the reason given for the child's name (“you will name him Jesus because he will save his people from their sins”).
This intricate combining of literary forms and echoes from the Hebrew Bible highlights the creative use within the New Testament. By drawing upon the earlier annunciation narrative of Samson's birth, Matthew establishes a parallel between these two divinely appointed figures, inviting readers to reflect on the deeper resonances and potential foreshadowing present within the biblical texts. This intertextual connection spotlights the shaping over time of the New Testament’s own literary and theological form, revealing the authors' engagement with their inherited traditions.
The king asked them, “Describe the appearance of this man who came up to meet you and told you these things.” They replied, “He was a hairy man and had a leather belt tied around his waist.” The king said, “He is Elijah the Tishbite.” (2 Kings 1:7-8)
In those days John the Baptist came into the wilderness of Judea proclaiming, 2 “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is near.” 3 For he is the one about whom the prophet Isaiah had spoken: “The voice of one shouting in the wilderness, ‘Prepare the way for the Lord, make his paths straight.’” Now John wore clothing made from camel’s hair with a leather belt around his waist, and his diet consisted of locusts and wild honey. (Matthew 3:1-4)3
The portrayal of John the Baptist in Matthew 3:1-4 bears a strong resemblance to the description of the prophet Elijah in 2 Kings 1:7-8. Both accounts provide details about the figures' appearance and attire, specifically highlighting their clothing made of hair and the leather belts around their waists. This shared imagery suggests an intentional effort by the New Testament author to draw a parallel between these two significant figures.
In the case of John the Baptist, Matthew's account specifies that his clothing was made from camel's hair, and his diet consisted of locusts and wild honey. Scholars have posited that these details reflect John's ascetic lifestyle in the wilderness, living off the land and depending solely on God. By adopting such an austere existence, John embodied the spirit of the ancient prophets, embracing a life of simplicity and self-denial.
Redaction critics have noted that Matthew and Mark's inclusion of these specific details about John's appearance and lifestyle serves a broader literary purpose: to explicitly link John with the prophet Elijah.4 The description of Elijah in 2 Kings 1:7-8 as “a hairy man with a leather belt around his waist” provides a direct parallel to the portrayal of John the Baptist. This connection is further reinforced by the quotation from Isaiah 40:3, which identifies John as the “voice crying out in the wilderness” who would prepare the way for the Lord.
By drawing this parallel between John and Elijah, the New Testament authors establish John as a latter-day prophetic figure, echoing the role played by Elijah in the Hebrew Bible. Just as Elijah was a messenger sent to confront the waywardness of the Israelites and call them back to faithfulness, John's ministry was one of repentance and preparation for the coming of the Messiah.
This intertextual connection between the Hebrew Bible and the New Testament positions John the Baptist as the fulfillment of prophetic expectations, the voice crying out in the wilderness to prepare the way for the Messiah. By likening John to the revered prophet Elijah, the New Testament authors create continuity between the established and burgeoning literary movements, while simultaneously asserting the significance of John's role in ushering in the culmination of God's redemptive plan.
The Spirit of the Sovereign Lord is upon me, because the Lord has chosen me. He has commissioned me to encourage the poor, to help the brokenhearted, to decree the release of captives and the freeing of prisoners, to announce the year when the Lord will show his favor, the day when our God will seek vengeance, to console all who mourn. (Isaiah 61:1-2)
Then he began to teach them by saying: “Blessed are the poor in spirit, for the kingdom of heaven belongs to them. Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted. (Matthew 5:3-4)5
Another unspoken parallel can be observed between the text of Isaiah 61:1-2 and the opening lines of the Beatitudes in Matthew 5. Both passages address themes of poverty, brokenheartedness, captivity, and mourning, highly suggesting the New Testament author was drawing upon the earlier text.
In Isaiah 61:1-2, the speaker declares they have been commissioned to “encourage the poor,” “help the brokenhearted,” “decree the release of captives,” and “console all who mourn.” These verses outline a mission of comforting and liberating those who suffer from various forms of affliction and oppression. The language used evokes images of both physical and interpersonal distress.
The Beatitudes open with remarkably similar themes, stating, “Blessed are the poor in spirit, for the kingdom of heaven belongs to them” and “Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.” Scholars have noted that the expression “blessed are” appears frequently in the Septuagint (Greek translation of the Hebrew Bible), often translating the Hebrew word “ashrei.”6 This term carried liturgical significance, introducing Psalm 145 in Jewish worship traditions. By employing this well-known phrase, Matthew joins a well-established textual tradition.
The presence of this intertextual connection between Isaiah and the Beatitudes invites readers to consider how the New Testament author understood and reinterpreted the prophetic message. While Isaiah seems to have spoken primarily of physical (and collective) poverty, captivity, exile, and mourning, Matthew's application extends to also incorporate more personal and emotional states.
By drawing upon the evocative imagery found in Isaiah 61, the Beatitudes come to life with added depth and resonance. They become more than mere ethical teachings; they are declarations of comfort, liberation, and divine favor for those who experience various forms of affliction and oppression in their individual and collective journeys.
“‘This is what the Sovereign Lord says: “‘I will take a sprig from the lofty top of the cedar and plant it. I will pluck from the top one of its tender twigs; I myself will plant it on a high and lofty mountain. I will plant it on a high mountain of Israel, and it will raise branches and produce fruit and become a beautiful cedar. Every bird will live under it; every winged creature will live in the shade of its branches. (Ezekiel 17:22-23)
He gave them another parable: “The kingdom of heaven is like a mustard seed that a man took and sowed in his field. It is the smallest of all the seeds, but when it has grown it is the greatest garden plant and becomes a tree, so that the wild birds come and nest in its branches.” (Matthew 13:31)7
In Ezekiel's prophecy, the Lord declares that he will take a sprig from a cedar tree and plant it on a high mountain in Israel. The imagery suggests that this small cutting will eventually grow into a majestic cedar, providing shelter for birds and winged creatures beneath its branches. This metaphor conveys the promise to restore and establish a just, divine kingdom. A parallel can be drawn between this imagery used in Ezekiel 17:22-23 and Jesus' Parable of the Mustard Seed in Matthew 13:31. Both passages employ plant metaphors to convey profound truths about the kingdom of God and its ultimate reach.
In the Parable of the Mustard Seed, Jesus compares the kingdom of heaven to a tiny mustard seed that, when planted, grows into a large plant capable of providing nesting places for birds. While the mustard plant lacks the grandeur of the cedar, the principle remains the same: something small and seemingly insignificant can ultimately achieve remarkable growth and provide refuge.
Scholars have noted that Matthew's concluding reference to birds nesting in the branches of the mustard plant is a direct allusion to Ezekiel's prophecy and related Old Testament passages.8 In these texts, the birds are commonly seen to symbolize the nations of the world finding shelter and sustenance under the protective canopy of God's kingdom.
Interpretations differ on whether Jesus intended the birds in his parable to carry a similar symbolic meaning. Some argue that the contrast between the lowly mustard plant and the majestic cedar tree introduces an element of irony, suggesting that the kingdom of heaven may transcend human expectations and assumptions about grandeur.
Regardless of the precise symbolic interpretation, the parallel between these passages highlights the profound truth that the kingdom of God often begins with humble and seemingly insignificant beginnings. Just as a small sprig or seed can grow into a mighty tree or plant, the kingdom of heaven, though initially small and unassuming, will ultimately achieve remarkable growth and provide shelter for all nations.
I will sing to my love—a song to my lover about his vineyard. My love had a vineyard on a fertile hill. He built a hedge around it, removed its stones, and planted a vine. He built a tower in the middle of it and constructed a winepress. He waited for it to produce edible grapes, but it produced sour ones instead. (Isaiah 5:1-2)
“Listen to another parable: There was a landowner who planted a vineyard. He put a fence around it, dug a pit for its winepress, and built a watchtower. Then he leased it to tenant farmers and went on a journey. When the harvest time was near, he sent his slaves to the tenants to collect his portion of the crop. But the tenants seized his slaves, beat one, killed another, and stoned another. (Matthew 21:33-35)9
A clear parallel exists between the vineyard song in Isaiah 5:1-2 and Jesus' Parable of the Tenants recorded in Matthew 21:33-35. Both passages employ vivid imagery of a vineyard cultivated with care, yet yielding disappointing results due to human disobedience and rebellion.
In Isaiah's poetic account, the prophet sings of his love who planted a vineyard on a fertile hill, meticulously preparing the land by building a hedge, removing stones, and constructing a winepress and watchtower. Despite these efforts, the vineyard produced sour and inedible grapes, representing the unfaithfulness of God's people, Israel.
Matthew's parable shares thematic imagery in its depiction of a landowner who planted a vineyard, secured it with a fence, and built a winepress and watchtower. Like Isaiah's prophetic song, this parable portrays the vineyard as being carefully cultivated and equipped for fruitful production. However, when the landowner sends his slaves to collect the harvest, the tenants rebel, mistreating and killing the messengers.
Scholars have traced the interpretation process of Isaiah 5:1-7, noting how its imagery and themes were adopted and adapted across various texts, including the Septuagint, the Targums, and the Dead Sea Scrolls.10 This phenomenon highlights the enduring influence of Isaiah's prophetic message and its resonance with later authors and interpreters.
Matthew's incorporation of this vineyard imagery into the Parable of the Tenants is widely recognized by scholars as a direct borrowing from Isaiah 5:1-7, with some minor changes. This intertextual connection suggests that Matthew intentionally drew upon the symbolic resonances of Isaiah's prophecy to convey deeper truths about God's kingdom, the rejection of his messengers, and the consequences of disobedience.
By anchoring his parable in the imagery and themes of Isaiah's vineyard song, Matthew invites his audience to situate the teachings of Jesus within the broader narrative of God's covenantal relationship with his people. The parallel serves as a poignant reminder of the persistent human tendency towards unfaithfulness and the divine call to bear spiritual fruit through obedience and righteousness.
Abraham and Sarah were old and advancing in years; Sarah had long since passed menopause.) 12 So Sarah laughed to herself, thinking, “After I am worn out will I have pleasure, especially when my husband is old too?” (Genesis 18:11-12)
Zechariah said to the angel, “How can I be sure of this? For I am an old man, and my wife is old as well.” (Luke 1:18)11
A notable parallel emerges between the accounts of Sarah's laughter in Genesis 18:11-12 and Zechariah's questioning in Luke 1:18, both in response to the announcement of an improbable birth in their old age. In Genesis, Sarah laughs to herself upon overhearing the divine promise that she will conceive a son, thinking, “After I am worn out will I have pleasure, especially when my husband is old too?” This reaction stems from the reality that both Abraham and Sarah had advanced in years, well beyond the typical childbearing age.
Similarly, in Luke's gospel, Zechariah responds to the angel's proclamation that his wife Elizabeth will bear a son by asking, "How can I be sure of this? For I am an old man, and my wife is old as well." Like Sarah, Zechariah expresses doubt in light of their advanced age and presumed infertility.
Scholars have noted that these parallel narratives tap into a broader literary motif found in various ancient traditions, where the announcement of an improbable birth, often involving divine intervention, is met with incredulity or laughter from the recipients, particularly when they are elderly or barren.12
This comedic motif, as Thomas L. Thompson observes, arises from the "massive human confusion that comes into pity whenever gods impregnate women." The incredulous reactions of Sarah and Zechariah reflect the human bewilderment and skepticism that accompany such supernatural occurrences.
While the Gospel of Matthew briefly touches on this theme in a serious manner, Luke's account more fully embraces the comedic potential of the motif. Like Sarah, Zechariah and Mary both voice variants of the same question, expressing disbelief at the prospect of conceiving despite their circumstances. However, Zechariah's question is rebuked as doubt, reinforcing the moral that "nothing is impossible for God."
By drawing upon this well-established literary motif and the specific parallel to Sarah's laughter, Luke anchors the birth narratives of John the Baptist and Jesus within a broader scriptural and cultural context. This intertextual connection serves to highlight the miraculous nature of these events while also inviting readers to ponder the profound implications of divine intervention in human affairs.
The exploration of intertextual connections - particularly those which are not obvious and not explicitly cited - between the Hebrew Bible and the New Testament unveils a remarkable series of literary and theological resonances. By examining the parallels, allusions, and echoes that permeate these texts, readers gain valuable insights into the complex ways in which the authors engaged with their scriptural and traditional heritage.
One of the profound implications of these intertextual studies is the recognition that the New Testament writers were deeply rooted in the literary and religious traditions that preceded them. Their works were not created in isolation but rather were informed and shaped by the narratives, imagery, and theological themes found in the Hebrew Bible. This intertextual dialogue underscores the continuity between the Old and New Covenants, while simultaneously illuminating the transformative reinterpretations and fulfillments that emerged within the early Christian tradition.
These intertextual connections challenge readers to adopt a more nuanced and multifaceted approach to scriptural interpretation. Rather than treating each text as a self-contained entity, intertextual analysis encourages the exploration of the intricate web of relationships that bind these writings together. By embracing this broader perspective, readers can uncover deeper layers of meaning and gain a more comprehensive understanding of the sacred texts.
The implications of intertextual studies extend beyond the realm of academia and pure exegesis. By highlighting the profound ways in which these writings intersect and inform one another, these explorations have the potential to enrich the spiritual lives of believers and non-believers alike and foster a deeper appreciation for the multidimensional nature of received tradition.
Moreover, the recognition of intertextual connections challenges readers to engage in a constant process of reexamination and reinterpretation. As new perspectives and insights emerge, our understanding of these texts is continually enriched and expanded, inviting us to embark on a lifelong journey of discovery and growth.
Brown, Raymond E. The Birth of the Messiah: A Commentary on the Infancy Narratives in the Gospels of Matthew and Luke (pp. 154-164) Doubleday, 1979
Powell, Mark Allan Introducing the New Testament: A Historical, Literary, and Theological Survey (p. Supplement 7.20) Baker Academic, 2018
https://intertextual.bible/text/isaiah-61.1-matthew-5.3
Levine, Amy-Jill & Brettler, Marc Zvi The Jewish Annotated New Testament (p. 10) Oxford University Press, 2011
Blomberg, Craig L. Interpreting the Parables (pp. 359-360) InterVarsity Press, 1990
Weren, W. J. C. The Use of Isaiah 5,1-7 in the Parable of the Tenants (Mark 12,1-12; Matthew 21,33-46) (pp. 1-26) Biblica, Vol. 79, No. 1, 1998
Thompson, Thomas L. The Mythic Past: Biblical Archaeology and the Myth of Israel (pp. 494-495) Basic Books, 1999