Profetior och uppfyllelser

The verb שׁוּף (shuf) occurs twice, and the translation renders it identically both times — "strike" — because Hebrew deliberately uses the same word for what the offspring does to the serpent's head and what the serpent does to the heel. Other renderings include "bruise," "crush," and "lie in wait for"; "crush" fits a blow to the head but strains the parallel blow to the heel, so a neutral verb preserves the symmetry the Hebrew builds. "Offspring" translates זֶרַע (zera', literally "seed"), a collective singular that can mean a single descendant or a whole line of descendants; "seed" is more literal but reads oddly in oral English. The pronoun הוּא is grammatically masculine singular, agreeing with the collective noun, and is rendered "he" (rather than "it" or "they") to keep that singular force; "hers" is used for "her offspring" to avoid repeating the noun in a line meant to be heard aloud.

אֵיבָה ('eyvah, "enmity, hostility") is from the same root as אוֹיֵב, "enemy" — it denotes settled, personal hostility rather than a passing quarrel. The verb אָשִׁית ("I will put/set") places God himself as the one establishing this conflict. "Head" (רֹאשׁ) and "heel" (עָקֵב) stand without prepositions, functioning as accusatives of place: "strike you as to the head... strike him as to the heel." The two body parts are chosen for contrast: the vulnerable, fatal point and the low, reachable point. There is also assonance in יְשׁוּפְךָ / תְּשׁוּפֶנּוּ, a mirrored pair of verbs that makes the mutual wounding audible.

This verse has been read since antiquity as the first announcement of good news — the so-called protoevangelium — with the singular "he" pointing to one descendant of the woman who defeats the serpent. Others read זֶרַע collectively: humanity as a whole, or the covenant line, in ongoing struggle with evil. The asymmetry of the two blows (head versus heel) has been taken to imply decisive defeat for the serpent and only wounding for the offspring, though the identical verb keeps the outcome understated in the Hebrew itself. Both readings can be held together: a corporate conflict that culminates in an individual.

Early Greek translation rendered the pronoun with a masculine form even though the Greek word for "seed" is neuter, suggesting an individual rather than a collective was already in view among ancient readers. Some later Latin transmission read a feminine pronoun ("she will strike"), which shaped centuries of Western art and devotion, but the Hebrew consonants and vowels support a masculine subject.

In the ancient Near East the serpent carried associations with fertility, chaos, wisdom, and immortality, and appeared as a guardian figure in temple and royal iconography. A word placing a hereditary curse and endless enmity on such a creature would have been heard as a demotion of a revered symbol. Snakebite on the foot was a real hazard for barefoot or sandaled agricultural workers, which gives the image of the struck heel its everyday force.

The Greek opens abruptly with just two words, «Βίβλος γενέσεως» — literally "book of origin" or "scroll of beginning" — with no verb at all. Because English cannot easily begin a sentence that way and still read smoothly aloud, "This is the record of the genealogy" supplies the missing verb and makes the line function as a clear heading. Other defensible renderings include "The book of the genealogy," "A record of the origin," or, taking the phrase as a title for the whole Gospel, "The account of the beginnings of Jesus Christ." The word "Christ" is kept as a name-like title here rather than translated "Messiah" or "Anointed One," since the two words together already function almost as a proper name in this Gospel's opening line. The repeated "the son of" preserves the stepped, chant-like rhythm of the Greek, which piles the phrases up without connectives.

«Γενέσεως» is the genitive of «γένεσις», from the root meaning "to come into being." It can denote birth, origin, lineage, or history, and its range is deliberately wide. The same word titles the first book of the Greek Old Testament, and the phrase "book of the genesis" appears there at the seams of the creation and genealogy accounts, so the opening words sound like a quotation. Note also that the Greek strings the descent together without "and" or any linking verb — a compressed, formulaic style typical of Semitic genealogical registers rendered into Greek.

The order of names is striking: David is placed before Abraham, reversing chronology. This puts the royal claim first — Jesus as heir to the throne — and then anchors it in the covenant promise that through Abraham's offspring all nations would be blessed. Together the two names frame the Gospel's double concern: a king for Israel and a blessing for the whole world. The echo of the opening of Genesis also suggests that what follows is not merely one man's family record but a new beginning for creation itself.

Genealogies carried real weight in first-century Jewish life. They established priestly eligibility, tribal land claims, and — crucially for messianic hope — descent from David. Public and family registers were kept, and claims of Davidic ancestry were known and discussed in this period. A list of this kind at the head of a document told an ancient reader immediately what sort of claim was being made about its subject.

The wording of this verse is remarkably stable across the manuscript tradition; the witnesses agree on all seven words. Some later copies show the expected scribal confusion between «γενέσεως» (origin, genealogy) and the similar-sounding word for "birth," a variation that appears more substantially a few verses later in this same chapter.

This opening and the genealogy that follows have long been read at services near the celebration of the Nativity, often chanted rather than merely spoken, so that the cadence of the names becomes part of the proclamation.

The Greek verb ἐγέννησεν literally means 'begot' or 'fathered.' Rendering it as 'was the father of' keeps the sense while sounding natural when read aloud. After the first clause the verb is not repeated in English ('Isaac the father of Jacob'), matching the compact rhythm of the Greek, which repeats the verb but links each link with a light connective δέ. That δέ is left untranslated here; rendering it as 'and' or 'then' each time would clog the cadence of a list meant to be heard rather than parsed.

The names are given in their traditional English forms, which come through Greek transliteration of the Hebrew: Ἀβραάμ (Abraham), Ἰσαάκ (Isaac), Ἰακώβ (Jacob), Ἰούδας (Judah). Note that the Greek form Ἰούδας is the same name later borne by Judas Iscariot and Jude; English distinguishes the patriarch as 'Judah' to match the Old Testament usage.

γεννάω in the active voice is normally used of the father's role in begetting, while the passive is used of the mother giving birth. The relentless repetition of ἐγέννησεν τὸν... forms a drumbeat structure typical of Hebrew genealogies (Hebrew hôlîd, 'begot'), and the Greek here reads like translation Greek shaped by the Scriptures of Israel. The accusative article τόν before each name marks the son as the object of the begetting.

The phrase 'and his brothers' breaks the strict father-to-son pattern. It signals that the line runs through Judah but that the whole family — the twelve tribes — belongs to the story. Israel's history is not reduced to a single thread; the chosen line carries the others with it.

Beginning with Abraham roots Jesus in the covenant promise that in Abraham all nations would be blessed, and the Isaac–Jacob sequence traces the promise through the sons of election rather than the firstborn (Ishmael and Esau are passed over silently). Judah is singled out because of the ancient oracle that the ruler's staff would not depart from Judah, making him the tribe of kingship and thus of the Messiah.

Genealogies were public and political documents in the ancient world, establishing tribal membership, inheritance rights, priestly or royal legitimacy, and standing within the community. Records of descent were kept and consulted, and claims to Davidic ancestry were known in the first century. This opening triad of patriarchs would have been instantly recognizable to any Jewish hearer as the foundation story of the nation.

The manuscript tradition for this verse is remarkably stable. Minor variations appear only in the spelling of the names, reflecting differing transliteration habits of Hebrew names into Greek, and in whether ἐγέννησεν is spelled with one or two nu's in some witnesses. Nothing affects the sense.

The Greek repeats the verb ἐγέννησεν ("begot, fathered") in every clause; for oral reading the English carries it forward from the previous verse and states it only once per generation, giving the list a steady, chantable rhythm. "Was the father of" renders a verb that in this genealogy simply marks descent, not necessarily immediate paternity. The names appear here in their familiar Hebrew Scripture forms (Perez, Zerah, Hezron, Ram) rather than transliterations of Matthew's Greek spellings (Phares, Zara, Esrom, Aram), so that the hearer recognizes the figures from earlier narratives. The phrase ἐκ τῆς Θαμάρ is rendered "by Tamar"; alternatives are "whose mother was Tamar" or "from Tamar."

The Greek preposition ἐκ with the genitive ("out of, from") is the standard way of naming the mother in a birth notice, so ἐκ τῆς Θαμάρ marks maternal origin. The definite article before her name is normal Greek usage with proper names and carries no special emphasis in English. The Hebrew names behind the Greek forms carry meanings tied to the birth story: Perez suggests "a breaking out, a breach," and Zerah is linked to "brightness" or "scarlet dawn" — echoing the scarlet thread tied to the hand that emerged first.

Tamar was the daughter-in-law of Judah; when denied her right to a levirate marriage after being widowed, she disguised herself and secured offspring from Judah himself, and Judah declared her more in the right than he was. Perez and Zerah were the twins born from that encounter. Genealogies of this era normally listed fathers only, so the naming of a mother is deliberate. The line through Perez became the leading clan of Judah, and the intervening generations to Hezron and Ram are compressed from tribal records.

Tamar is the first of four women named in this genealogy, all of them associated with irregular or outsider circumstances. Their presence signals from the outset that the lineage of the Messiah runs through human failure, scandal, and unexpected grace rather than through unblemished pedigree — a theme this Gospel develops in its portrayal of whom God welcomes. Naming the non-elect twin Zerah alongside Perez also preserves the memory that God's choice within a family is his own to make.

The manuscript tradition is stable here, with only minor spelling variation in the transliterated names (for example Ζάρα/Ζάρε, Ἐσρώμ/Ἑσρώμ). At the name Ram, the parallel genealogy in another Gospel shows a more complicated tradition, where some witnesses insert additional names between Hezron and Amminadab; Matthew's shorter form follows the list preserved in the Hebrew Scriptures.

The Greek opens abruptly with just two words, «Βίβλος γενέσεως» — literally "book of origin" or "scroll of beginning" — with no verb at all. Because English cannot easily begin a sentence that way and still read smoothly aloud, "This is the record of the genealogy" supplies the missing verb and makes the line function as a clear heading. Other defensible renderings include "The book of the genealogy," "A record of the origin," or, taking the phrase as a title for the whole Gospel, "The account of the beginnings of Jesus Christ." The word "Christ" is kept as a name-like title here rather than translated "Messiah" or "Anointed One," since the two words together already function almost as a proper name in this Gospel's opening line. The repeated "the son of" preserves the stepped, chant-like rhythm of the Greek, which piles the phrases up without connectives.

«Γενέσεως» is the genitive of «γένεσις», from the root meaning "to come into being." It can denote birth, origin, lineage, or history, and its range is deliberately wide. The same word titles the first book of the Greek Old Testament, and the phrase "book of the genesis" appears there at the seams of the creation and genealogy accounts, so the opening words sound like a quotation. Note also that the Greek strings the descent together without "and" or any linking verb — a compressed, formulaic style typical of Semitic genealogical registers rendered into Greek.

The order of names is striking: David is placed before Abraham, reversing chronology. This puts the royal claim first — Jesus as heir to the throne — and then anchors it in the covenant promise that through Abraham's offspring all nations would be blessed. Together the two names frame the Gospel's double concern: a king for Israel and a blessing for the whole world. The echo of the opening of Genesis also suggests that what follows is not merely one man's family record but a new beginning for creation itself.

Genealogies carried real weight in first-century Jewish life. They established priestly eligibility, tribal land claims, and — crucially for messianic hope — descent from David. Public and family registers were kept, and claims of Davidic ancestry were known and discussed in this period. A list of this kind at the head of a document told an ancient reader immediately what sort of claim was being made about its subject.

The wording of this verse is remarkably stable across the manuscript tradition; the witnesses agree on all seven words. Some later copies show the expected scribal confusion between «γενέσεως» (origin, genealogy) and the similar-sounding word for "birth," a variation that appears more substantially a few verses later in this same chapter.

This opening and the genealogy that follows have long been read at services near the celebration of the Nativity, often chanted rather than merely spoken, so that the cadence of the names becomes part of the proclamation.

The Greek opens with a topic-marker construction ("Of Jesus Christ, the birth was thus") which places the name first for emphasis. Rendering it as "Now this is how the birth of Jesus Christ came about" keeps the forward-pointing sense and gives the sentence a natural spoken cadence to introduce the story that follows. The noun rendered "birth" is the same word used in verse 1 ("record of the genealogy/origin"), so it could equally be translated "origin" or "coming into being"; "birth" is chosen because what follows narrates how Jesus came to be born. "Was betrothed" (rather than "was engaged" or "was pledged in marriage") reflects that this was a legally binding status, not merely a promise. The Greek idiom "was found having in the womb" is rendered "was found to be pregnant"; the passive "was found" is retained because it leaves unstated who discovered the pregnancy and how, just as the Greek does. "Through the Holy Spirit" translates a phrase that could also be rendered "from" or "by the Holy Spirit", indicating source and agency rather than partnership.

The word for "birth" here, genesis, is the same term that titles the first book of the Bible and that opened this chapter, quietly framing the account as a new beginning. The participle translated "was betrothed" is aorist passive, reflecting that a girl was given in betrothal by her family rather than entering it as an independent agent. "Before they came together" uses a verb that can mean simply "to come together, live together" and is a standard delicate expression for beginning married life, including sexual union. Notably, "Holy Spirit" appears here without the definite article, a construction that stresses the character and quality of the divine agency rather than pointing back to a previously mentioned person.

In first-century Jewish practice betrothal was far more binding than a modern engagement. It was contracted before witnesses, involved a bride-price, and made the couple legally husband and wife — which is why the next verse can call Joseph "her husband" and speak of divorce. Only after an interval, often around a year, was the bride taken into the husband's household, when the marriage was consummated. Unfaithfulness during betrothal counted as adultery. Girls were commonly betrothed in their early teens. Understanding this makes Mary's situation clear: a pregnancy in this interval would appear to everyone as a plain case of infidelity, with serious social and legal consequences.

This verse is the New Testament's first direct statement of the virginal conception: the child's origin is traced not to Joseph but to the Holy Spirit. The wording carefully avoids any suggestion of a physical union between God and Mary of the kind found in pagan myth; the Spirit is presented as creative divine power, echoing the Spirit hovering over the waters at creation. Read alongside the genealogy, the verse holds two truths together — Jesus is genuinely rooted in Israel's history through Joseph's Davidic line, and yet his existence begins by a direct act of God. Interpreters differ on how much the passage means to say about Mary herself; Matthew's focus is on the identity and origin of the child rather than on Mary's status. Some read the pregnancy "before they came together" chiefly as the setting for Joseph's dilemma and God's intervention, while others emphasize it as the pivot on which the whole doctrine of the incarnation turns.

Manuscripts vary on the name at the start of the verse: some read "Jesus Christ", others "Christ Jesus", and a few important witnesses have simply "the Christ", which would link tightly back to the last words of verse 17. The fuller form is widely attested and is followed here. Some copies also read a word meaning specifically "begetting/nativity" in place of the broader term for "origin, birth", most likely an attempt by later scribes to make the sense unmistakable. A number of witnesses read "having been betrothed" while others have a perfect form, and some add a connective "for"; the sense is unaffected in each case.

This verse begins the Gospel reading traditionally appointed for the Sunday before Christmas in many traditions, and it is also read at celebrations of the Nativity and on commemorations of Joseph. Its opening words serve as the hinge between the genealogy chanted from the ancestry lists and the narrative of the birth itself.

The Greek strings together two participles — literally "Joseph her husband, being righteous and not wanting to expose her, resolved to release her secretly." For smooth oral reading this is broken into a full clause ("was a righteous man") plus a reason clause ("because he did not want..."). The little word καί joining the participles can be read three ways: simply linking ("righteous and unwilling"), contrasting ("righteous, yet unwilling"), or explaining ("righteous, and therefore unwilling"). The rendering here takes the third path: Joseph's righteousness is what moves him to spare Mary shame. δειγματίσαι means to hold someone up to public view, so "disgrace her publicly" carries both the exposure and the shame. ἀπολῦσαι literally means "to release, send away"; since betrothal was legally binding, "divorce" is the accurate sense, and λάθρᾳ ("secretly, privately") is rendered "quietly" as the more natural English for a discreet legal act rather than a hidden one.

ἀνήρ means both "man" and "husband"; here the legal relationship is in view, which is why Joseph can be called Mary's husband before they have come together (v. 18). δίκαιος ("righteous, just") is the standard Greek rendering of Hebrew ṣaddîq, describing a person whose life is aligned with God's law. δειγματίσαι comes from δεῖγμα, "a specimen, something shown" — to make someone a public exhibit. ἐβουλήθη (from βούλομαι) denotes a settled decision reached after weighing options, which fits the "considering" of the next verse.

The manuscripts vary between the simple δειγματίσαι and the intensified compound παραδειγματίσαι ("make a public example of, hold up to open shame"), the latter being the form used in the Greek Old Testament for shaming and exposure. The meaning differs only in force, and either way the sense is public humiliation. A few witnesses also spell the verb of decision ἠβουλήθη rather than ἐβουλήθη, a purely orthographic difference.

In first-century Jewish practice betrothal was far more than an engagement: it was a legally binding covenant, and the couple were already husband and wife in law though they did not yet live together, usually for about a year. Unfaithfulness during that period counted as adultery, and the law prescribed severe penalties, including public trial and stoning. By this time, however, the ordinary remedy was a writ of divorce; the choice open to Joseph was between a public proceeding, which would expose Mary to lasting shame in a small village, and handing her the document privately in the presence of only the two required witnesses.

This verse raises the question of what makes Joseph "righteous." One reading is that his righteousness lies in refusing to keep a wife he believed unfaithful, while his mercy shows in how gently he does it. Another reading is that the righteousness itself consists in mercy — a law-keeping shaped by compassion rather than by strict retribution. Either way, Joseph is the first person in this Gospel to be called righteous, and his restraint prepares the reader for a Gospel in which righteousness will be redefined as something deeper than legal correctness. His willingness to be led away from his own settled plan in the next verse makes him a model of quiet obedience.

Together with the surrounding verses this passage belongs to the readings of the last days of Advent and to commemorations of Joseph, where it grounds his traditional titles as the just man and guardian of the holy family.

The Greek verb παραλαβεῖν means simply "to take alongside, receive, take with you." In the context of Jewish marriage customs it refers to the second stage of the process, when the betrothed bride was brought from her father's house into her husband's. The rendering "take Mary home as your wife" makes this concrete for the hearer; a more literal option would be "to take Mary your wife" or "to receive Mary as your wife." Note that the angel already calls her "your wife," since betrothal was legally binding.

The clause τὸ ἐν αὐτῇ γεννηθέν is literally "that which has been begotten in her" — a neuter participle, not yet the word "son" or "child." "The child conceived in her" supplies a natural English noun and keeps the sense of an accomplished act. The final phrase places "Holy" after the verb (ἐκ πνεύματός ἐστιν ἁγίου), giving it a certain weight; English cannot easily reproduce that word order, so the emphasis is carried by the rhythm of the sentence's close.

The opening "But while he was considering this" translates a genitive absolute (ταῦτα δὲ αὐτοῦ ἐνθυμηθέντος). The verb ἐνθυμέομαι is built on θυμός, the seat of feeling and passion, so it suggests more than cool deliberation: turning something over inwardly, brooding, being stirred up about it. The interjection ἰδού ("behold, look") is a narrative pointer rather than a command to see; here its force is carried by the flow of the sentence into the angel's speech.

The phrase κατ' ὄναρ, "in a dream," is characteristic of this Gospel, occurring six times and nowhere else in the New Testament — five of them in the accounts surrounding Jesus' birth and infancy. Greek has no definite article before "angel of the Lord" here, so either "an angel" or the older idiom "the angel of the Lord" is defensible; the indefinite reading is followed.

Betrothal in first-century Jewish practice created a legal bond that could be dissolved only by divorce or death, though the couple did not yet live together. This is why Joseph is already called Mary's husband and she his wife, and why the angel's instruction concerns bringing her into his household rather than arranging a marriage. Dreams were widely regarded as a genuine channel of divine communication, and the pattern here recalls the dreams of the earlier Joseph in Genesis.

"Son of David" is used of Joseph only here in the whole New Testament. By obeying and naming the child, Joseph makes Jesus legally his son and thus an heir of David's line — the point the genealogy earlier in the chapter has been building toward. The statement that the child is "from the Holy Spirit" affirms the conception without a human father; the Spirit is named as the divine origin and power of the conception, not as a partner in a marriage, and the church has read this verse as a cornerstone of the confession that Jesus was "conceived by the Holy Spirit, born of the virgin Mary."

Manuscripts vary between the Greek forms Μαρίαν and Μαριάμ for Mary's name — the first a Hellenized declension, the second closer to the Semitic Miriam. The difference does not affect the sense, and English has only one form available.

This verse belongs to the readings traditionally appointed for the final days of Advent and for the days surrounding Christmas, and it is central to observances honoring Joseph. The angel's "do not be afraid" links it to the wider annunciation pattern heard in this season.

The Greek reads literally "you shall call his name Jesus," a Semitic idiom carried into Greek. Rendered here as "you are to name him Jesus" for natural English rhythm; the future indicative (καλέσεις) functions as a command, so "you shall call" or "you must name him" are equally defensible. "His people" translates τὸν λαὸν αὐτοῦ; λαός is the word regularly used for Israel as God's covenant people, and the possessive is deliberately open-ended — the text does not say "the people of Israel" or "the people of God," but simply "his own people." The emphatic pronoun αὐτός ("he himself") stands at the head of the clause; English marks it lightly with the placement of "he will save," while a fuller rendering would be "he is the one who will save."

Ἰησοῦς is the Greek form of Hebrew Yēšûaʿ, a shortened form of Yəhôšuaʿ (Joshua), traditionally understood as "the LORD saves" or "the LORD is salvation." The angel's explanation turns on this etymology: he is to be named "the LORD saves" precisely because "he will save" (σώσει) his people. The wordplay is audible in Hebrew or Aramaic between the name and the verb yāšaʿ (to save); in Greek and English only the logic of the sentence preserves it, since Ἰησοῦς and σώσει share no sound. The verb σῴζω covers rescue, deliverance, and healing as well as spiritual salvation.

Naming a child was the father's prerogative and constituted legal acknowledgment. By instructing Joseph rather than Mary to name the boy, the angel makes him the legal father, grafting Jesus into the Davidic line traced in the preceding genealogy — even though the conception is not from him. The name Yeshua was extremely common in first-century Jewish Palestine; the wonder lies not in the name's rarity but in the reason given for it. Many contemporaries expected deliverance from foreign rule; here the promised salvation is defined as deliverance from sins.

Saving "his people from their sins" is a striking claim: in the Scriptures of Israel it is God who forgives and redeems from iniquity (see Psalm 130:8). Matthew thus links the child's identity to God's own saving work, a theme completed in the next verses with the name Emmanuel, "God with us." Interpreters differ on the scope of "his people": some read it of Israel specifically, in continuity with the covenant promises, others of the wider people Jesus gathers, anticipating the closing commission to all nations. The verse also frames Jesus' mission as fundamentally about sin rather than political liberation, a point echoed later in the cup that is poured out "for the forgiveness of sins."

This verse belongs to the Advent and Christmas cycle, read where Joseph's dream is recounted, and is central to observances of the Naming of Jesus on the eighth day after Christmas. Its words have shaped hymnody and devotion to the name of Jesus for centuries.

The perfect tense of the Greek verb ("has happened / has come to pass") is rendered here as a simple past, "took place," because English narrative rhythm reads more smoothly this way; a more literal "Now all this has happened" would sound stilted when read aloud. The Greek adjective meaning "whole, entire" is caught by the compact phrase "All this," which gathers up the whole angelic announcement of verses 20–21. The phrase "to fulfill" translates a purpose clause with a passive verb; some render it "so that what the Lord had spoken... might be fulfilled," but the shorter infinitive keeps the sentence moving toward the quotation that follows. The two different Greek prepositions are carefully distinguished: the Lord is the one who speaks ("by"), the prophet is the channel ("through"). Since "what was spoken by the Lord through the prophet" is heavy in English, the active "what the Lord had spoken through the prophet" is used, preserving both agents.

The verb translated "fulfill" (plēroō) means literally "to fill up, make full," and carries the sense of bringing something to its intended completion rather than merely matching a prediction. The passive form is a "divine passive," implying God as the one doing the fulfilling. Note also the deliberate distinction in agency: hypo (direct agent) for the Lord, dia (intermediate agent) for the prophet — a grammatical detail with real weight, since it makes the prophet a mouthpiece rather than the source. The participle "saying" (legontos) at the end is a Semitic-flavored introduction to a quotation and is normally left untranslated in English, represented instead by the colon.

This is the first of a series of "fulfillment formulas" that punctuate this Gospel, each introducing a passage from Israel's Scriptures as coming to completion in Jesus. Together they present his life not as a break with Israel's story but as its intended goal. The wording implies that Scripture's words are ultimately God's own speech, spoken through human prophets. Interpreters differ on how such fulfillment works: some read it as direct prediction, others as a typological correspondence in which an earlier event or word finds its fullest meaning in Christ; the Greek allows both, and the Gospel writer seems comfortable with a rich, layered sense.

At the marked point some witnesses read "through the Lord" rather than "by the Lord," flattening the distinction between the Lord as speaker and the prophet as instrument; the reading followed here, with the sharper distinction, has the stronger support. A few later witnesses also name the prophet explicitly as Isaiah, an understandable clarifying addition since the quotation that follows comes from Isaiah, but the unnamed "the prophet" is the earlier reading.

Citing Scripture with an introductory formula was a familiar practice in Jewish teaching of the period, seen also in the writings from Qumran, where texts are quoted with phrases such as "as it is written." Readers or hearers would recognize the pattern at once. Anonymous reference to "the prophet" was unremarkable when the passage quoted was well known.

This verse and the words that follow have long been read in Advent and Christmas services, where the fulfillment formula serves as the hinge between the angel's announcement and the ancient prophecy, tying the birth narrative to the promise it answers.

The quotation follows Isaiah 7:14 in its Greek form. The Greek reads literally "the virgin will have in the womb and will bear a son, and they will call his name Immanuel; which is, being translated, 'With us God.'" Two idioms have been smoothed for the ear: "have in the womb" becomes "conceive," and the Semitic "call his name X" becomes "call him X," which is how English naturally speaks. The definite article is retained — "the virgin," not "a virgin" — because the Greek has it and it points to a particular figure. "They will call" keeps the plural of the Greek rather than smoothing it to "you will call" or "his name will be called"; the unnamed "they" is the community that will come to know him by this name. The closing explanation is set off with a dash and quotation marks so a reader aloud can hear where the prophecy ends and the evangelist's comment begins.

The Greek παρθένος (parthenos) normally means "virgin," and it is the word the older Greek version of Isaiah used to render the Hebrew עַלְמָה ('almah), which denotes a young woman of marriageable age — a term that ordinarily implied virginity without being a technical word for it. Hebrew has a more precise term for virgin (בְּתוּלָה, bethulah), which Isaiah did not use; much discussion of this verse turns on that fact. ἐν γαστρὶ ἕξει is a stock idiom, literally "will have in the belly/womb," the ordinary way of saying "be pregnant." The name Ἐμμανουήλ transliterates Hebrew עִמָּנוּ אֵל, a two-word sentence: "with-us [is] God." The evangelist's rendering Μεθ' ἡμῶν ὁ θεός keeps the Hebrew word order, so the emphatic "with us" stands first — the emphasis is on the presence, not merely the deity.

This is the first of the evangelist's fulfillment quotations and the theological keystone of the birth narrative: the child conceived by the Spirit is God's own presence among his people. The name Immanuel functions as a title describing who Jesus is rather than as the name he was actually given (v. 25 records that he was called Jesus); Hebrew thought regularly used names to declare a person's role or significance. The theme forms a great arch across the Gospel: it opens with "God with us" and closes with the risen Jesus saying "I am with you always, to the end of the age" (28:20). Interpreters have long debated whether Isaiah's oracle had an immediate eighth-century referent, a messianic one, or both; the evangelist reads it as finding its full and intended depth in Jesus, a pattern of reading that sees earlier events as foreshadowings brought to completion. The verse has carried great doctrinal weight in the church's confession of the virginal conception and of the incarnation.

Isaiah spoke these words to King Ahaz of Judah around 734 BC, when Jerusalem was threatened by an alliance of Israel and Syria. The birth of a child named "God with us" was offered as a sign that the threat would pass. Reading such a text as pointing forward to the Messiah was a recognized practice among Jewish interpreters of the first century, who searched the Scriptures for patterns fulfilled in later deliverances. In that culture a name was public theology: parents named children to commemorate God's acts, to voice hope, or to mark circumstances of birth, so a name-bearing prophecy would have struck hearers as entirely natural.

The dominant reading is the plural καλέσουσιν, "they will call." Some witnesses, including an important early bilingual manuscript and several Old Latin and Syriac texts, read the singular καλέσεις, "you will call," harmonizing with the Greek form of Isaiah and with the angel's command in v. 21. The Hebrew of Isaiah has "she will call." The plural is almost certainly original here, and it broadens the horizon beyond Joseph or Mary to the whole people who will confess him by this name.

This verse is among the most frequently read texts of Advent and Christmas, appearing in the readings for the Sunday before Christmas and in the traditional Christmas cycle. The name Immanuel supplies the final of the ancient "O" antiphons sung in the days before Christmas — "O Emmanuel, our king and lawgiver, come and save us" — and through that antiphon it entered the beloved Advent hymn "O come, O come, Emmanuel." The phrase "God with us" also recurs in creeds, carols, and prayers of the season.

The Greek opens with a genitive absolute construction ("Jesus having been born"), which sets the scene rather than narrating the birth itself; the rendering "After Jesus was born" preserves that background function and keeps the sentence moving toward the main clause, the arrival of the visitors. The Greek word magoi has no exact English equivalent: "wise men" is used here because it is familiar to the ear and avoids the misleading overtones of "magicians" or "sorcerers," while "astrologers" would be more precise about their craft and "Magi" would simply transliterate the term. Their number is never stated; the traditional three comes from the three gifts in verse 11, not from the text. The phrase "in the days of King Herod" translates a Semitic-flavored time expression literally, since the rhythm of "in the days of" reads well aloud; "during the reign of Herod the king" would be an equally faithful but flatter alternative. Note also that the sentence continues into verse 2 without a full stop, matching the single flowing sentence of the Greek.

Magos is a loanword from Old Persian, originally denoting a member of the priestly caste of the Medes, and by the first century used broadly for practitioners of astrology, dream interpretation, and esoteric learning. The word could carry a negative charge in Greek writing (compare its use of Simon and Elymas elsewhere in the New Testament), which makes Matthew's positive portrayal striking. The phrase apo anatolōn is plural, literally "from risings," that is, from where the sun rises — hence "from the east"; in the next verse the same root appears in the singular of the star's rising, a deliberate echo. "Bethlehem of Judea" distinguishes this village from another Bethlehem in Galilee, in the territory of Zebulun.

Herod the Great ruled as Rome's client king over Judea from about 37 to 4 BC, an able builder (the expanded temple was his work) and a ruler notorious for eliminating perceived rivals, including members of his own family. His reign anchors the birth of Jesus before 4 BC. Bethlehem was a small village roughly six miles south of Jerusalem, remembered as the hometown of David. Astral observation was highly developed in Babylon and Persia, and the ancient world widely assumed that celestial events could signal the birth of a ruler; Roman writers record an expectation in the east that a world ruler would arise from Judea. A delegation of eastern dignitaries traveling to honor a king would have been a recognizable, politically charged event.

Matthew opens his account of Jesus' childhood with foreigners who read the heavens seeking a Jewish king, while Jerusalem's own leadership will be troubled by the news. This frames a theme that runs to the Gospel's final verse: the nations coming to worship the Messiah. Readers have long heard echoes of the promises that Gentiles would come to the light and bring gifts, and of the pagan seer Balaam who spoke of a star rising out of Jacob. The episode also raises the perennial question of how God may use knowledge outside Israel's covenant — here the sciences of the east — to lead people to Christ, without endorsing astrology as such.

The text of this verse is remarkably stable across the manuscript tradition. Minor variation involves word order and the spelling of Bethlehem, and some witnesses omit or vary the article with "Herod the king," none of which affects the sense.

This verse begins the Gospel reading for Epiphany, celebrated on January 6 in the West and closely associated with the Theophany season in the East, where in many traditions the visit of the Magi is commemorated with the Nativity. It is among the most widely used Gospel texts in Christmas services, processions, and hymnody.

The Greek opens with the participle λέγοντες, "saying," continuing the sentence begun in verse 1; since English resists a long run-on, the participle is rendered as a finite verb, "and asked," which also signals that a question follows. The phrase ὁ τεχθεὶς βασιλεὺς τῶν Ἰουδαίων is literally "the born king of the Jews"; the rendering "the one who has been born king of the Jews" preserves the passive participle and the emphatic word order, which stresses that this king holds his title by birth. An alternative rendering is "the one who has been born to be king of the Jews." The clause ἐν τῇ ἀνατολῇ can be taken either spatially, "in the east," or temporally, "at its rising" — the technical astronomical sense of a star's first appearance above the horizon. The temporal sense, "when it rose," is adopted here because the noun stands in the singular with the article, unlike the plural ἀπὸ ἀνατολῶν ("from the east") in verse 1. Finally, προσκυνῆσαι is rendered "to worship"; "to pay homage" or "to do obeisance" are equally defensible.

ἀνατολή comes from ἀνατέλλω, "to rise up, spring up," used of the sun, stars, and even of shoots from a root. The same root gives the noun both meanings that hover over this verse: the direction of sunrise (the east) and the act of rising. The verb προσκυνέω is built from πρός ("toward") and κυνέω ("to kiss"), and originally described blowing or throwing a kiss toward a superior, then prostration before a king or a god. In Greek the participle τεχθείς is aorist passive of τίκτω, "to give birth," the same verb used in the birth announcements of chapter 1.

"King of the Jews" was the very title Herod the Great held by decree of the Roman senate, which is why the question is politically explosive and why verse 3 reports his alarm. Astrologers from Persia or Babylon — the μάγοι were originally a priestly caste associated with dream interpretation and star-lore — were widely believed to read the births and deaths of rulers in the sky. Ancient sources record the appearance of new stars, comets, and planetary conjunctions being interpreted as heralding royal births, and Roman writers describe a well-known expedition of eastern magi who came west to honor an emperor. Whatever the astronomical phenomenon, the narrative assumes a world where the heavens announce a change of thrones.

The first people in this Gospel to seek out and worship the newborn Messiah are foreigners, not Israelites — a quiet foreshadowing of the closing commission to make disciples of all nations. The verb translated "worship" is used throughout this Gospel both for reverence toward a human superior and for the worship due to God alone; the narrator lets the ambiguity stand, but the reader who knows the child is "God with us" hears more in it than the magi themselves may have intended. The title "king of the Jews" appears again only at the end of the Gospel, on the placard above the cross, framing the whole story between the homage of Gentiles and the mockery of soldiers.

The wording of this verse is unusually stable across the manuscript tradition. Notably, the singular ἐν τῇ ἀνατολῇ here is uniformly attested and stands in deliberate contrast to the plural ἀπὸ ἀνατολῶν in verse 1, which supports reading the singular in its technical sense of a star's rising rather than simply as a geographical direction.

This passage is read at the feast of Epiphany, celebrated on the sixth of January in most traditions, which commemorates the manifestation of Christ to the nations. The question "Where is the one who has been born king of the Jews?" and the star that guides the seekers have shaped centuries of Epiphany hymnody, processions, and the custom of blessing homes with the initials of the traditional names of the magi.

The Greek says only "when he heard"; "this" is supplied so the sentence stands on its own when read aloud. The verb rendered "was deeply disturbed" (etarachthē) is a passive form meaning "was stirred up, agitated, thrown into turmoil" — alternatives include "was troubled," "was alarmed," or "was shaken." "Deeply" carries the force of a word used elsewhere for water churned up or a heart in anguish, without adding a new idea. The second clause has no verb in Greek (literally "and all Jerusalem with him"), and the translation keeps that terse echo rather than repeating the verb, since the shorter line reads better and preserves the original's clipped effect. "All Jerusalem" renders a collective expression; some render it "all the people of Jerusalem," but the city-as-a-whole phrasing is closer to the Greek and stronger in the ear.

The verb tarassō is used of water being stirred or troubled, and in the Gospels of deep inner agitation — Jesus himself is "troubled" in spirit by grief and by the shadow of the cross. It is not merely intellectual puzzlement but visceral upheaval. The name for Jerusalem here appears as a feminine singular (pasa Hierosolyma), an unusual form since this Gospel elsewhere treats the name as a neuter plural; the feminine suggests the city is being thought of as a single personified whole, as a mother-city. Note too that the singular verb agrees with Herod alone, with the city joined afterward by the phrase "with him" — grammatically the turmoil radiates outward from the throne.

Manuscripts differ in the word order of the royal title: some read "the king, Herod," others "Herod the king," and a few omit the article. The sense is unaffected either way, and no translation decision hangs on the variant.

Herod the Great, an Idumean by descent, was granted the title "king of the Jews" by Rome and ruled Judea from 37 to 4 BC. He was a spectacular builder — the temple, Caesarea, Masada — and notoriously suspicious of rivals, executing his wife Mariamne, her relatives, and three of his own sons on suspicion of conspiracy. Jerusalem's dread is therefore realistic: the city had learned what happened when Herod felt his throne threatened. Since he held the very title the magi used, the report of a newborn "king of the Jews" struck at the legitimacy of his dynasty.

The verse sets up the Gospel's deep irony: the birth of the true king brings joy to foreigners who travel from afar, but panic to the reigning king and the holy city itself. Jerusalem, which should have welcomed its Messiah, is instead "troubled" — a note that returns at the end of the Gospel, when the same city hands over the same "king of the Jews" to death. The contrast between Gentile worship and the capital's fear anticipates the wider movement of the Gospel toward all nations.

This verse belongs to the Epiphany narrative and is read in that season alongside the visit of the magi, where the church hears both the homage of the nations and the resistance of earthly power in a single account.

The opening καί is rendered "So" rather than "And," since it carries a consequential force here: Herod's alarm in the previous verse leads directly to this action. The verb ἐπυνθάνετο is an imperfect, suggesting a sustained or repeated inquiry; it could be rendered "kept asking" or "began to question them," but the simple "asked" preserves the narrative pace for reading aloud. The Greek ὁ χριστός is a title with the definite article, "the Anointed One," and is here given as "the Messiah" rather than "the Christ," because in Herod's mouth it is not a name for Jesus but a reference to the expected deliverer. The present tense γεννᾶται (literally "is born") functions as a general or anticipatory present — the question is where Scripture says the Messiah is to be born — hence "was to be born" in this past-tense narrative.

συναγαγών, "having gathered together," is from the same root as συναγωγή, "assembly, synagogue" — Herod convenes a formal consultation. γραμματεῖς means literally "men of letters," experts in the written Law; the qualifier τοῦ λαοῦ ("of the people") in Greek stands after the pair and may govern both nouns, so that the whole body is presented as the official leadership of Israel. πυνθάνομαι is a verb of careful inquiry, used of seeking information from those who know.

The "chief priests" were the priestly aristocracy of Jerusalem — the serving high priest together with former high priests and heads of the leading priestly families who oversaw the temple. The "scribes" were the trained interpreters of the Law. Together these groups made up the core of the ruling council, and Herod, an Idumean whose claim to the throne rested on Roman favor rather than Davidic descent, had every political reason to be anxious about a rival "king of the Jews." Consulting the recognized authorities on Scripture was the natural way to locate a messianic prophecy.

Herod's question presupposes a widespread expectation that the Messiah's birthplace was fixed by prophecy. The scene carries a deep irony that runs through this Gospel: the religious authorities can cite the text correctly yet do not act on it, while foreign visitors travel far to worship. The gathering of "all the chief priests and scribes" against the newborn king also foreshadows the later assemblies of these same offices that will oppose him.

The wording of this verse is stable in the manuscript tradition. Some witnesses add the article before "scribes," which would present the priests and scribes as two distinct bodies rather than as one convened assembly; the sense is scarcely affected.

The Greek opens with «οἱ δὲ εἶπαν αὐτῷ», literally "and they said to him." Rendered here as "They told him" — the small connective δέ, which simply marks the shift back to the other speakers, is carried by the sentence rhythm rather than by an added "and" or "but," which would slow the reading aloud. The perfect verb γέγραπται ("it has been written and so stands written") is given as "this is what was written"; other defensible renderings are "for so it is written" or "for thus it stands written." The English keeps the quotation open at the end of the verse with a colon, so that the prophetic citation in the following verse is heard as the continuation of the scribes' answer, spoken in one breath.

γέγραπται is a perfect passive — a standard formula for citing Scripture, stressing not the past act of writing but the abiding validity of what was written. The passive is a "divine passive": God is the unnamed writer. The preposition διά with the genitive ("through the prophet") marks intermediate agency: the prophet is the channel, not the ultimate source. The verb form εἶπαν shows the Hellenistic tendency to give aorists the first-aorist ending -αν in place of the classical εἶπον.

"Bethlehem of Judea" is specified because a second Bethlehem lay in the territory of Zebulun in the north (Joshua 19:15). The Judean Bethlehem sat roughly six miles south of Jerusalem and was remembered above all as the home town of David and the setting of the story of Ruth. The chief priests and scribes answer immediately and without hesitation: the expectation that the Messiah would be born there was common knowledge among the learned of the day.

The bulk of the manuscript tradition reads simply "through the prophet," leaving the source unnamed even though the words that follow come from Micah. A small number of witnesses supply the name, reading "through Micah the prophet," almost certainly a later clarifying addition rather than the original wording. There is also minor variation between the Hellenistic form εἶπαν and the classical εἶπον, with no difference in meaning.

The unnamed prophet speaks, but the writing is God's; the formula treats Scripture as one continuous divine word delivered through many human voices. There is a sharp irony in the scene: those who can locate the Messiah's birthplace from memory take no step toward it, while foreigners guided only by a star make the journey. Knowledge of the text, the Gospel implies, is not the same as coming to worship.

The quotation blends Micah 5:2 with a phrase from 2 Samuel 5:2, and the wording here differs from both the Hebrew and the standard Greek versions of Micah. Where Micah says Bethlehem is 'little to be among the clans of Judah,' this citation reverses the sense: 'by no means least.' The translation keeps that emphatic negative, since the Greek οὐδαμῶς is a strong 'not at all,' rather than smoothing it toward the prophet's original wording. 'In the land of Judah' renders the simple apposition γῆ Ἰούδα, which literally reads 'land of Judah' standing alongside 'Bethlehem'; adding 'in the' keeps the line readable aloud without breaking its rhythm. ἡγεμόσιν could be rendered 'rulers,' 'leaders,' or 'governors'; 'rulers' was chosen to echo the related word ἡγούμενος ('a ruler') in the second half of the verse, preserving the link the Greek makes between the city's rank and the leader who comes from it. The single closing quotation mark ends the prophet's words; the double mark ends the chief priests' answer to Herod begun in verse 5.

The Hebrew of Micah reads 'thousands' (clans, military units) where the Greek here has ἡγεμόσιν, 'rulers' — the two Hebrew words differ only in vowel pointing, so the citation may reflect a known alternate reading rather than a loose paraphrase. ποιμανεῖ is future of ποιμαίνω, 'to shepherd, to tend a flock,' a verb that in Greek political language also means 'to govern.' The pairing of ἡγούμενος (leader) with ποιμανεῖ (will shepherd) sets rule and care side by side in one image.

Bethlehem was David's hometown, and the shepherd language deliberately recalls the words spoken to David at his anointing: 'you shall shepherd my people Israel.' Naming a small village as the birthplace of the ruler underlines a recurring biblical pattern in which God's choice falls on what is overlooked. Calling Israel 'my people' places the speaker as God himself, so the promised ruler exercises a shepherding that belongs to God — a point later Christian reading connected to Jesus' self-description as the good shepherd.

Bethlehem lay about six miles south of Jerusalem, a modest agricultural settlement of perhaps a few hundred people. That Herod's scholars could answer his question instantly shows how firmly this expectation was fixed in learned Jewish tradition of the period. For Herod, an Idumean ruling by Roman appointment and famously anxious about rivals, the announcement of a Davidic ruler born in David's own town was a direct political threat — which explains his secret summons in the next verse.

This verse belongs to the traditional readings for Christmas and Epiphany, and its lines are widely echoed in carols and hymns celebrating the small town chosen for the Messiah's birth.

The Greek particle ἰδού (literally "behold" or "look") is a marker of vivid surprise rather than an invitation to see something. Since "behold" now sounds archaic when read aloud, it is rendered "suddenly," which keeps the jolt of the original without stalling the sentence. The verb φαίνεται is a present tense used for a past event (a "historical present," common in narrative Greek); English narrative prefers the past, so "appeared." The participle ἐγερθείς ("having been raised up, having risen") introduces the string of commands and is best carried into English as a plain imperative, "Get up"; "Arise" is a possible but heavier alternative. The final clause ζητεῖν τὸ παιδίον τοῦ ἀπολέσαι αὐτό uses an articular infinitive of purpose, hence "in order to kill him"; ἀπολέσαι could also be rendered "destroy" or "do away with."

The chapter turns on a play of related verbs: the magi "withdrew" (ἀνεχώρησαν, v. 12), "after they had withdrawn" (Ἀναχωρησάντων, this verse), and Joseph likewise "withdrew" to Egypt (ἀνεχώρησεν, v. 14) — the same word for prudent retreat from danger binds the scenes together. μέλλει with the infinitive expresses imminent intent, "is about to," almost "is going to set about." The child is consistently called τὸ παιδίον, a diminutive for a young child, not βρέφος ("newborn"), suggesting some months have passed since the birth.

Manuscripts differ over the word order of "appears in a dream" (φαίνεται κατʼ ὄναρ versus κατʼ ὄναρ φαίνεται); the sense is identical either way, and translation cannot reflect the difference. A few witnesses also smooth the participle construction at the start of the verse. None of these variants affects the meaning.

Egypt lay outside Herod's jurisdiction as a Roman province and was the natural asylum for refugees from Judea; the journey down the coastal road would have taken roughly a week or two on foot. Egypt already held large, long-established Jewish communities, especially in Alexandria, so the family would not have been strangers among strangers. Political refugees fleeing Judean rulers for Egypt were a recognized pattern in Jewish history, and Herod's ruthlessness toward perceived rivals — including members of his own family — is well attested by ancient historians.

The flight to Egypt frames Jesus' life in the pattern of Israel's story: a tyrant who kills infants, a rescue, a sojourn in Egypt, and a coming out again (quoted from Hosea in v. 15). Many read this as presenting Jesus both as a new Moses and as embodying Israel itself. Note too that the angel says "the child and his mother," never "your son" or "your wife's son" — a careful phrasing consistent with the account of Jesus' conception, while Joseph is nonetheless entrusted with the protection of both. God's guidance comes through dreams, as with the patriarch Joseph; divine sovereignty does not remove the need for human obedience and ordinary flight.

This passage belongs to the Christmas cycle in many traditions, read near the commemoration of the infants killed by Herod and, in some calendars, on a feast of the Holy Family's flight. Coptic Christian tradition preserves a rich set of sites and observances marking the family's supposed route through Egypt.

The Greek opens with a participle, "and he, having been raised up / having risen," which deliberately echoes the angel's command in the previous verse ("Get up"). The translation renders it "So he got up," using "so" to make the obedience explicit for the ear: the wording of the command comes back as the wording of the action. Likewise "took the child and his mother" repeats the command's verb exactly, and the reader is meant to hear the repetition. The time phrase "during the night" stands in the Greek where it stands here, after "his mother," so the sentence keeps its original rhythm; it can attach either to the taking or to the departing, and the placement preserves that natural ambiguity. The final verb is more literally "withdrew" or "departed," but "left for Egypt" reads more smoothly aloud and lets the sentence run on into the next verse, which completes the thought with "where he stayed."

"During the night" translates a bare genitive (νυκτός), a common Greek way of expressing time within which something happens — "by night," "in the course of the night." The verb ἀναχωρέω ("withdraw, retire, take refuge") is a favourite of this Gospel and threads through the whole chapter: the Magi "withdrew" by another road, Joseph now "withdraws" to Egypt, and later he "withdraws" to Galilee. It carries the sense of a strategic retreat out of danger rather than mere travel. The participle ἐγερθείς is passive in form ("having been roused") but functions reflexively, as often with verbs of rising.

Travel by night was unusual and suggests urgency and secrecy; caravans normally moved by day. From Bethlehem the road ran south-west to the coastal highway and on across the Sinai — a journey of roughly two weeks. Egypt lay outside Herod's jurisdiction, under direct Roman administration, and had for centuries been the classic place of refuge for those fleeing rulers in the land of Israel. It also held large, long-established Jewish communities, especially in Alexandria, where a fugitive family could disappear among their own people.

The verse is presented as immediate, unquestioning obedience: no delay, no objection, not even a reported word from Joseph, who never speaks anywhere in this Gospel. The flight into Egypt also begins a pattern of correspondences the Gospel is building — a child whose life is threatened by a king, a descent into Egypt, and later a calling out of it — so that the story of the Messiah retraces the story of Israel and of Moses. God's protection here works not by spectacular rescue but through a warning dream and a father willing to act on it in the dark.

The Greek text of this verse is transmitted with remarkable stability; the manuscripts show no variation that affects the sense, only minor differences in word order and spelling in a few witnesses.

The Greek begins simply "and he was there until the death of Herod." Rather than starting a new sentence, the translation joins it to the previous verse with "where he stayed," preserving the single flowing movement of flight-and-refuge that the Greek achieves with a string of connected clauses. "Until Herod's death" renders a noun phrase (literally "until the end of Herod") more naturally than the wooden "until the death of Herod." The purpose clause "in order that what was spoken might be fulfilled" is rendered "This was to fulfill what the Lord had said," which keeps the sense of divine purpose while avoiding a heavy subordinate construction that reads awkwardly aloud. Note also that the Greek carefully distinguishes two agents: the message comes *by* the Lord (the true speaker) *through* the prophet (the spokesman); the translation preserves this with "what the Lord had said through the prophet."

The word rendered "death" (teleutē) literally means "end" or "completion" and functions as a gentle euphemism, much like English "passing." The phrase "in order that it might be fulfilled" (hina plērōthē) is one of Matthew's signature formulas, appearing roughly a dozen times in his Gospel; the verb "fill full" suggests not merely prediction-and-verification but a bringing to fullness of what Scripture already contained. The quotation itself is a compact four-word line in Greek, with "out of Egypt" placed first for emphasis.

A small number of witnesses read "from the Lord" instead of "by the Lord," a difference of one preposition with no real change in meaning; the reading followed here is strongly supported. The wording of the quotation is stable across the manuscript tradition.

The quotation is from Hosea 11:1, where the words look back to the exodus and describe the nation of Israel as God's son called out of Egypt. Matthew reads the verse typologically: Jesus retraces and sums up Israel's story, going down into Egypt and being called out again, so that what was said of the people is fulfilled in the one who represents them. Notably, Matthew's wording follows the Hebrew text ("my son") rather than the common Greek version of Hosea, which reads "his children" — the singular is essential to his point. Readers have debated whether this is prediction, pattern, or both; most see here a deliberate theology of recapitulation, with Jesus as the true Israel and, in Matthew's larger framing, a new Moses who comes out of Egypt to give a new law from a mountain.

Herod the Great died in 4 BC (by the most common reckoning), at Jericho after a long and painful illness, having ordered further executions almost to the end. Egypt was a natural refuge: it lay outside Herod's jurisdiction as a Roman province, it was reachable in roughly a week or two of travel, and it hosted large, long-established Jewish communities, above all in Alexandria. Fleeing to Egypt from a hostile ruler in Judea had precedent in Israel's own history. Later Christian tradition, especially in Egypt, developed detailed itineraries of the Holy Family's journey and marked numerous sites associated with their stay.

This passage belongs to the Christmas cycle and is read in many churches on the Sunday after Christmas or in connection with the commemoration of the Holy Innocents. In the Egyptian Christian tradition the entry of the Holy Family into Egypt is kept as its own annual feast.

The Greek verb ἐνεπαίχθη means "was mocked, made a fool of, tricked." "Outwitted" captures both the deception and the sting to Herod's pride; alternatives include "had tricked him," "had made a fool of him," or more literally "had mocked him." For ἐθυμώθη λίαν, literally "he was greatly enraged," the rendering "flew into a rage" preserves the force of λίαν ("exceedingly") in idiomatic English that reads aloud well. The construction ἀποστείλας ἀνεῖλεν is literally "having sent, he killed" — Herod acted through agents, so "gave orders to kill" conveys the sense rather than the wording. τοὺς παῖδας is rendered "the boys": παῖς can mean "child" generally, but the masculine plural here, together with the parallel to Pharaoh's decree, points to male children. ὁρίοις means "borders, territory," hence "the whole surrounding region." μάγοι is translated "wise men" for consistency with earlier verses in the chapter; "magi" or "astrologers" are equally defensible.

ἐνεπαίχθη is a passive form of ἐμπαίζω, built from ἐν- ("in, at") and παίζω ("to play"), literally "to play with someone" — the same verb Matthew later uses for the soldiers mocking Jesus, which quietly links Herod's humiliation to his eventual successors' scorn. There is also a sound-play in the sentence: ἐνεπαίχθη and παῖδας share the παι- syllable, so the one who was "played with" takes vengeance on "children." The phrase ἀπὸ διετοῦς καὶ κατωτέρω, "from two years old and downward," is an inclusive age bracket; διετής means "of two years," so the range covers infants up to children in their second or third year — consistent with a star sighting some months before.

Herod the Great, who died in 4 BC, was notorious for lethal suspicion toward anyone he saw as a rival: ancient historians record that he executed his wife Mariamne, her brother, her grandfather, and three of his own sons, the last just days before his own death. An order to kill infants in a village fits that character. Bethlehem was a small settlement; estimates of the number of children in the specified age range in the town and its outlying area run from a handful to a few dozen, which helps explain why an event so shocking to Bethlehem left no trace in the larger imperial record. Herod's forces also had the practical means: he maintained mercenary troops and a network of informers throughout Judea.

The episode deliberately echoes Exodus: a threatened king orders the death of Hebrew boys, and the deliverer escapes. Jesus is thus presented as a new and greater Moses, and the pattern of tyranny opposing God's chosen one runs through the whole Gospel. Interpreters have long wrestled with the deaths of the innocent here: Christian tradition honors these children as the first martyrs, dying in Christ's place though without conscious faith, and the narrative refuses to soften the fact that the coming of salvation provokes violent resistance. It also raises the question of providence — the child God protects lives, while others die — a tension Matthew leaves unresolved, moving instead to the lament of Jeremiah in the verses that follow.

The Greek text of this verse is stably transmitted across the manuscript tradition, with only trivial variation in spelling and word order among witnesses; no variant affects the meaning.

These children are commemorated as the Holy Innocents, observed on 28 December in Western tradition and on 29 December in the Byzantine calendar, with Armenian usage placing it in May. The passage is read in the Christmas season, a placement that sets the joy of the Nativity against the shadow of Herod's violence.

The Greek reads literally "what was spoken through Jeremiah the prophet, saying," placing the name before the title. English word order is reversed to "the prophet Jeremiah" because that is the natural spoken form and keeps the line moving toward the quotation that follows. The trailing participle 'saying' (legontos) is a Semitic-style quotation marker rather than a separate clause; leaving it untranslated and letting the colon do the work avoids a stiff 'saying:' before the poetry of verse 18. Note the preposition: 'through' (dia) the prophet, not 'by' him — in this Gospel's formula the words are God's, spoken by means of the prophet. 'Then was fulfilled' preserves the passive and the emphatic opening 'Then' (tote), which links the fulfillment directly to Herod's slaughter just described.

The formula 'then was fulfilled what was spoken through the prophet' is a signature refrain of this Gospel, recurring at key points in the infancy narrative and beyond. Here it appears in a shortened form: unlike other citations, it does not add 'in order that' (hina), a difference some readers take as significant — the massacre is not presented as caused by the prophecy, only as answering to it. The verb plēroō ('fill up, fulfill') carries the sense of bringing a pattern to its full measure rather than merely matching a prediction. The aorist passive ἐπληρώθη is a 'divine passive': God is the unnamed agent.

A few witnesses expand the name to 'Jeremiah' with additional qualifiers, and some early copies omit the prophet's name entirely, reading simply 'through the prophet' — likely a scribal simplification, since the surrounding fulfillment formulas often leave the prophet unnamed. The reading naming Jeremiah is strongly attested and is almost certainly original; the omission would be the easier reading. There is also minor variation in the spelling of the name.

The quotation that follows comes from Jeremiah 31:15. Interpreters differ on how the citation functions. Some read it as direct predictive prophecy fulfilled in the Bethlehem killings. Others note that in Jeremiah the verse laments the exile of the northern tribes and stands within a chapter promising restoration and a new covenant — so that by invoking it the Evangelist frames the massacre as a fresh exile-like sorrow that is nonetheless bracketed by hope. On this reading the fulfillment is typological: Israel's grief recurs, and so does God's promise of return. The passage has long been felt as one of Scripture's most honest acknowledgments that God's purposes do not cancel real grief.

Jeremiah prophesied in Jerusalem in the late seventh and early sixth centuries BC, through the Babylonian conquest and deportation. Ramah, named in the following verse, lay a few miles north of Jerusalem and served as a staging point where captives were assembled before the march to Babylon. Rachel, the ancestral mother of Joseph and Benjamin, was traditionally associated with a tomb near Bethlehem, which made the lament doubly apt for the events narrated here.

The quotation is from Jeremiah 31:15, and the wording here follows the Greek of Matthew rather than smoothing it toward the Hebrew original. "Loud lamentation" renders ὀδυρμὸς πολύς; since πολύς here signals intensity as much as quantity, alternatives include "much wailing," "bitter mourning," or "great grieving." The two nouns κλαυθμός and ὀδυρμός are kept as a pair ("weeping and loud lamentation") because the doubling itself carries the emotional weight when read aloud. "Rachel weeping for her children" supplies "for," since the Greek places τὰ τέκνα αὐτῆς directly in the accusative after the participle without a preposition. The final clause keeps the present tense of οὐκ εἰσίν — literally "they are not" — as "they are no more," which preserves the stark, unresolved note; a smoother past rendering ("because they were gone") would soften the immediacy. The verse is set in quotation marks to mark it as the prophetic citation announced in verse 17.

ὀδυρμός is a rare word in the New Testament, appearing only here and in 2 Corinthians 7:7; it denotes audible wailing rather than silent sorrow. κλαυθμός likewise names the sound of crying out, and Matthew uses it elsewhere in the phrase "weeping and gnashing of teeth." The construction κλαίουσα τὰ τέκνα αὐτῆς uses the accusative for the one lamented, a normal Greek idiom for mourning the dead. The concluding οὐκ εἰσίν is a Semitic-flavored idiom for death or disappearance — the same expression stands behind "he was not" in Genesis 5:24 and "the child is not" in Genesis 37:30.

Manuscripts differ in the placement of the verb: some read "in Ramah was heard," others "was heard in Ramah," with no difference in sense. A number of witnesses expand the line to "lamentation and weeping and wailing," a three-fold phrase drawn from the Greek version of Jeremiah; the shorter two-fold reading is generally judged original, the longer one arising from assimilation to the familiar Greek text of the prophet. Matthew's citation as a whole stands closer to the Hebrew of Jeremiah than to the common Greek version, which suggests independent rendering.

Ramah was a town in the territory of Benjamin, a few miles north of Jerusalem, and it served as a staging point where captives were assembled for deportation to Babylon (Jeremiah 40:1) — hence the cry of mourning in Jeremiah's oracle. Rachel, the beloved wife of Jacob, was the mother of Joseph and Benjamin and is here the archetypal mother of the nation weeping over her lost descendants. Two traditions located her grave: one near Bethlehem (Genesis 35:19), the other in Benjamin near Ramah (1 Samuel 10:2), and both associations serve the connection Matthew draws between the exile and the slaughter of children around Bethlehem.

Matthew reads the massacre at Bethlehem as a fresh enactment of Israel's deepest grief: what happened at the exile happens again around the newborn king. Notably, the lament he quotes stands in a chapter of promise — in Jeremiah 31:16-17 God tells Rachel to dry her tears because her children will return, and a few verses later comes the promise of a new covenant. Readers have long seen that Matthew, by citing the lament, invokes the whole context of hope surrounding it: the mourning is real, yet it is framed by restoration. The passage has therefore been central to Christian reflection on innocent suffering, on God's presence in grief that refuses easy comfort, and on the costliness of the coming of the kingdom.

This verse is the appointed reading for the commemoration of the Holy Innocents, kept in late December in many traditions, and it belongs to the Christmas cycle rather than to a season of mourning. Its imagery of a mother lamenting her lost children has shaped hymns, carols, and laments across the centuries.

The Greek verb παραγίνεται is a historical present — literally "John the Baptist arrives" — a vivid storytelling device common in Greek narrative that pulls the reader into the scene. English narrative convention prefers the past tense, so it is rendered "came," which also reads more smoothly aloud. The sentence deliberately ends without full punctuation, because the participles "preaching" and "saying" (v. 2) belong to a single flowing clause; the quotation that follows is the content of the preaching. "Wilderness" is preferred to "desert," since the Greek ἔρημος denotes uninhabited, unfarmed scrubland used for grazing rather than sand dunes. The title ὁ βαπτιστής could equally be rendered "the Baptizer," which captures its original force as a description of what he did, but "the Baptist" is retained as the familiar name.

"In those days" (ἐν δὲ ταῖς ἡμέραις ἐκείναις) is a Semitic-flavored formula from the Greek Old Testament, marking a new era rather than a precise date; it leaves the roughly thirty-year gap after chapter 2 unmeasured. κηρύσσων comes from κῆρυξ, a herald who makes a public royal proclamation in the open air — not a teacher lecturing but an announcer of news. ἔρημος, the source of English "eremite/hermit," describes a place of solitude and sparse habitation.

The wilderness of Judea is the barren descent from the Judean hill country toward the Dead Sea and the lower Jordan valley — steep, dry, and thinly populated. Prophetic and renewal movements repeatedly gathered there, and the Qumran community lived in the same region, drawing on Isaiah's call to prepare a way in the wilderness. John is also attested outside the Gospels by the first-century historian Josephus, who describes him as a good man who urged the Jews to virtue and to baptism.

By placing John in the wilderness, the narrative evokes Israel's exodus and the prophetic hope of a new beginning that starts outside the settled land and outside the temple establishment. John appears as the last of the prophets in the old mold — one whose whole role is to announce another — and later in this Gospel he is identified with the promised return of Elijah. Interpreters differ over whether his message is best read as continuous with the prophetic call to national repentance or as a distinctly eschatological summons on the eve of judgment; the Gospel seems to hold both together.

This verse is read in many traditions during Advent, where John's appearance frames the season as a call to preparation before the celebration of Christ's coming.

The verse continues the sentence begun in verse 1: the Greek has two linked participles, "preaching... and saying," so "and saying" is retained rather than starting a fresh sentence, which keeps the flow natural for reading aloud. "Repent" renders a plural present imperative addressed to a crowd; other renderings such as "turn back," "change your hearts," or "change your minds" bring out different sides of the word but lose its familiar compactness. "Has come near" translates a Greek perfect tense: the nearness is an accomplished fact with a lasting result. "Is at hand" or even "has arrived" are defensible alternatives; "has come near" was chosen because it keeps both the sense of arrival and the sense of imminence without settling the question. Quotation marks and the comma before the speech are supplied, since the original has no such punctuation.

The verb behind "repent" (metanoeō) is built from words meaning "after" and "mind," literally an afterthought or change of mind; in its biblical use it carries the weight of the Hebrew idea of turning around and coming back, a reorientation of the whole life, not merely regret. The imperative is present tense, suggesting a continuing stance rather than a single act. "Has come near" translates engizō, from a root meaning "near"; the perfect form leaves a deliberate tension between "has drawn close" and "is now here." The word for "heaven" is plural in Greek ("the heavens"), reflecting Hebrew and Aramaic usage where the word is regularly plural in form though singular in meaning.

"The kingdom of heaven" is this Gospel's characteristic phrase, used dozens of times where the other Gospels say "the kingdom of God." The two are equivalent: "heaven" functions as a reverent substitute for the divine name. It denotes God's reign or kingly rule breaking into history rather than a place one goes after death. The tension in "has come near" has fuelled long debate: some read it as purely future and imminent, others as already inaugurated in the ministry that follows, and many hold both together — the reign of God is genuinely present yet awaits its consummation. Notably, John's message here is word for word the message Jesus will preach later in this same chapter's sequence, binding the forerunner and the one he announces into a single proclamation. Repentance is presented not as a means of bringing the kingdom about but as the fitting response to its approach.

By the first century many Jews avoided pronouncing the divine name and used respectful substitutes such as "heaven," "the Name," or "the Most High"; the phrase "kingdom of heaven" fits naturally into this pious speech and suits a Gospel closely engaged with Jewish readers. Calls to repentance in view of God's imminent intervention were a familiar note in the prophetic tradition and in the ferment of Second Temple Judaism, where various groups awaited God's decisive act to restore Israel. Preaching in the wilderness carried its own charge, evoking the exodus generation and hopes of a renewed people.

A few witnesses lack the connecting "and" before "saying," giving simply "preaching in the wilderness of Judea, saying." The difference does not affect the meaning, and the better-attested reading with the conjunction is followed here. The wording of the proclamation itself is stable across the manuscript tradition.

This call has long been read in preparation for Christmas, when John the Baptist is traditionally heard in the weeks of Advent, and it also serves as a keynote for penitential seasons and for services of confession. The single sentence "Repent, for the kingdom of heaven has come near" is short enough to function as an acclamation or refrain.

The Greek has simply οὗτος … ἐστιν ὁ ῥηθείς, literally "this is the one having been spoken of." The passive participle has no stated speaker, which in Jewish idiom points to God as the one who spoke; the rendering "spoken of through the prophet Isaiah" preserves that sense, treating the prophet as the channel rather than the ultimate source. The added "who said" renders the loose Greek participle λέγοντος, which hangs somewhat freely and could also be attached to the voice of Scripture itself ("saying"). The nested quotation marks reflect an interpretive decision about punctuation: the words "in the wilderness" are taken with "one calling" rather than with "prepare," so the voice cries out in the wilderness. The Hebrew of the quoted passage can equally be read "A voice calls: In the wilderness prepare the way of the LORD," and the balance of the Hebrew poetic lines slightly favors that division; the Greek word order followed here is the one that shaped the Gospel writers' use of the text. "Make his paths straight" keeps the imperative plural addressed to a group, as in the Greek.

βοῶντος is a participle of βοάω, to shout or cry aloud — not calm speech but the raised, carrying voice of a herald. τρίβοι ("paths") comes from τρίβω, "to rub, wear down," so the word pictures tracks worn smooth by repeated travel; "paths" or "tracks" fits better than "highways." The adjective εὐθείας stands first for emphasis and functions as a predicate: "straight — make his paths!" The preposition διά with the genitive of a person regularly marks intermediate agency in the New Testament formula for prophetic fulfillment, distinguishing the prophet as instrument from God as speaker.

Some manuscripts read ὑπό ("by") rather than διά ("through") before "Isaiah," and a few add the article before the prophet's name. The reading with διά is the better attested and matches this Gospel's standard fulfillment formula; the variant with ὑπό looks like a stylistic smoothing that makes the prophet the direct agent. The quotation itself follows the Greek version of Isaiah closely but stops short of its final line, "make straight the paths of our God," reading instead "make his paths straight" — a shortening found in all three Synoptic accounts.

In the prophetic original the "way" is prepared for the LORD, the God of Israel, returning with his exiled people. By applying the words to John, whose preparation leads directly to Jesus, the text places Jesus in the position occupied by the LORD in the prophecy — one of the earliest and most understated christological claims in the Gospel. The change from "the paths of our God" to "his paths" allows the pronoun to point to Jesus. The passage also frames John's whole ministry as preparation rather than arrival: the repentance he preaches clears the road, but the traveller is another.

Roads in the ancient Near East were genuinely made ready before a king or dignitary travelled: obstacles cleared, ruts filled, routes levelled. The image would have been immediately concrete to hearers. The wilderness of Judea, where John worked, was also charged with memory — the place of Israel's formation after the Exodus and, in the expectation of the time, the place where deliverance would begin again. The same verse from Isaiah was taken as a program by the community associated with the Dead Sea scrolls, who withdrew into the desert to "prepare the way," showing that John's use of it belonged to a live and recognizable current of Jewish hope.

This verse belongs to the classic Advent readings, where John's cry frames the season's call to preparation. The words "Prepare the way of the Lord" have long been used as an antiphon and responsory, and they also appear in the liturgies connected with baptism and with the commemoration of John the Baptist.

The Greek opens with a participle, "having been baptized," followed by the adverb εὐθύς ("immediately"). Rendering this as "As soon as Jesus was baptized, he came up out of the water" preserves the tight sequence while giving the sentence a natural spoken cadence; a more wooden option would be "And Jesus, having been baptized, immediately went up from the water." The adverb is attached to the coming up out of the water, not to the baptism itself. The phrase ὡσεὶ περιστεράν is rendered "like a dove"; it may describe the manner of the descent (gently, as a dove descends) rather than a visible bird-shape, and the translation leaves both readings open. "And behold" retains the Greek ἰδού, a narrative attention-marker that signals a sudden, wondrous turn; some translations drop it or render it "suddenly," but keeping it preserves the solemn, oral quality of the storytelling.

ἀνέβη ἀπὸ τοῦ ὕδατος literally means "went up from the water," implying he had been standing in it. ἠνεῴχθησαν ("were opened") is a divine passive — God is the unnamed actor. The Greek πνεῦμα means both "spirit" and "breath/wind," an ambiguity that recalls the Spirit of God hovering over the waters in the creation account. Note the double participle καταβαῖνον … ἐρχόμενον, "descending … coming," which slows the sentence and lets the vision unfold; the translation keeps both verbs rather than collapsing them into one.

Manuscripts differ at several points. Some read "immediately came up" while others have simply "came up"; some add "to him" after "the heavens were opened." A number of witnesses read "the Spirit" with the article, others without, and a few say "the Spirit of God" while some early ones read simply "the Spirit." There is also variation in whether the dove is in the accusative (agreeing with the Spirit) or another case, which slightly shifts whether "like a dove" describes the Spirit's form or its manner of descent. None of these variants alters the substance of the scene.

This is one of the clearest trinitarian scenes in the Gospels: the Son is in the water, the Spirit descends, and in the next verse the Father speaks. The opening of the heavens echoes the prophetic longing that God would tear open the heavens and come down, and marks the end of a long silence. Interpreters debate whether the Spirit's descent is an anointing that equips Jesus for his mission (as prophets and kings were anointed) or a public attestation of who he already is; Matthew's narrative, where Jesus is conceived by the Spirit, favors the latter, with the baptism serving as commissioning rather than empowerment newly given.

Baptism by immersion in the Jordan fits the practice of ritual washing widely attested in first-century Judaism, though John's baptism was a one-time act of repentance rather than a repeated purification. Doves were common in Jewish life as the offering of the poor and appear in Jewish tradition as an image of Israel and, in some readings, of the Spirit hovering over the waters at creation. The heavens "opening" is standard language in visionary literature of the period for the boundary between God's realm and the human world being breached.

This passage is read at the celebration of the Lord's baptism, which in many traditions closes the Christmas season and opens the ministry of Jesus. It is also widely used in baptismal liturgies, where the descent of the Spirit and the voice from heaven shape the prayers spoken over those being baptized.

The Greek has no finite verb here: literally "and behold, a voice out of the heavens saying." English requires "said" to complete the sentence, and quotation marks to mark the words spoken; both are supplied for the sake of natural reading. The Greek plural "the heavens" (a Semitic idiom, since Hebrew and Aramaic normally use a plural form) is rendered by the English singular "heaven," which carries the same sense. "My beloved Son" translates a Greek phrase that could equally be laid out as "my Son, the Beloved," where "the Beloved" stands almost as a title; the smoother adjectival wording was chosen for oral flow. "In whom I am well pleased" renders an aorist verb of delight; alternatives include "with whom I am well pleased," "in whom I delight," and "on whom my favor rests."

The word rendered "beloved" (agapētos) is built on the same root as the verb agapaō, "to love." In the Greek Old Testament it regularly translates a Hebrew word meaning "only one, unique" — most famously of Isaac, Abraham's "beloved/only" son whom he was asked to offer up. So the word carries both warmth and exclusiveness: not merely "dear" but "one of a kind." The verb eudokēsa is an aorist, which in Greek can express a settled, timeless disposition rather than a past moment; hence the present-tense English "I am well pleased." Some hear in it an echo of a decision made in eternity: "in whom I have taken my delight."

The words weave together two strands of Scripture: the royal enthronement declaration "You are my Son" and the opening of the first Servant Song, "Behold my servant… my chosen, in whom my soul delights." Jesus is thus identified at once as the messianic King and as the suffering Servant. Note that in this Gospel the voice speaks in the third person — "This is" rather than "You are" — making the words a public declaration to witnesses as much as an address to Jesus. Read together with the previous verse, the scene shows Father, Son, and Spirit together, and has long been treated as a foundational text for Trinitarian doctrine. Against an adoptionist reading, the traditional interpretation holds that the voice announces what Jesus already is rather than conferring a new status upon him. The same words return at the Transfiguration, with "listen to him" added.

Some manuscripts, notably one important bilingual codex along with Old Latin and Syriac witnesses and several early Christian writers, read "You are my Son" here, matching the wording found in the parallel accounts. This is generally judged a harmonization to the more familiar second-person form, and the third-person reading "This is" is strongly supported by the earliest and most widespread witnesses. A few witnesses also vary between "out of the heavens" and "out of heaven."

In Jewish tradition of this period, with the age of the prophets believed to have ended, God's word was sometimes said to come through a heavenly voice — the rabbis called it the bat qol, "daughter of a voice." Such a voice was regarded as a lesser echo of prophecy. The Gospel scene deliberately outstrips that expectation: the heavens themselves are torn open, the Spirit descends visibly, and the voice speaks directly and unmistakably, signaling that the long silence has ended.

This verse is the climax of the Gospel reading for the feast of the Baptism of the Lord, which closes the Epiphany season in many traditions, and it belongs to the ancient cluster of Epiphany themes — the visit of the magi, the baptism, and the wedding at Cana — as three manifestations of Christ's identity. The words are also widely used in baptismal liturgies and in blessings of water, linking the believer's baptism to Christ's own.