Matthew 5:2

Berean Standard Bible

and He began to teach them, saying:

King James Bible

And he opened his mouth, and taught them, saying,

-------------------------------

Matthew 5:2 reads, “And he opened his mouth, and taught them, saying—” a seemingly simple sentence, but one that is profoundly important in its theological weight and literary placement. This verse is a threshold. It is the doorway into the Sermon on the Mount, one of the most significant bodies of teaching in all of Scripture. Yet before we hear the content of Jesus’ message, Matthew pauses to describe the act of speaking itself. This act is not merely functional—it is deeply symbolic, and its phrasing invites the reader to recognize the sacred authority behind the words that are about to follow.

The expression “he opened his mouth” is, on the surface, redundant. One might think it sufficient to say, “he taught them” or “he said.” But in the Hebraic and Semitic literary traditions, this kind of expression signals solemnity and weight. It often precedes a declaration of particular significance, as if to alert the listener that what follows is not casual speech but sacred teaching. It is the language of revelation. The opening of the mouth is the unveiling of divine truth. It is as though heaven is being unsealed through the spoken word. In Jesus’ opening of His mouth, we are not simply hearing a man talk, but witnessing the Logos—the Word made flesh—expressing the eternal will and character of God.

There is also an intentional echo here of Old Testament motifs. Prophets throughout Israel’s history were often described as speaking on behalf of God, but even they would typically preface their utterances with “Thus says the Lord.” Jesus does not do this. He speaks on His own authority. That subtle but vital distinction is already implied in this moment. When He opens His mouth, He speaks not merely for God, but as God. The act is revelatory—this is God disclosing Himself, not through thunder on Sinai or a burning bush, but through the voice of a man seated on a mountainside. And yet, the weight of divinity is no less present.

Furthermore, Matthew’s inclusion of this phrase marks a transition from narrative to discourse. Up to this point in the Gospel, Jesus has acted—He has been baptized, tempted, and begun calling disciples. But now He begins to speak, and in doing so, He reveals the very nature of His kingdom. What follows is not a set of abstract ideals or ethical guidelines detached from reality. It is the constitution of the kingdom of heaven. It is the unveiling of what God values, what human flourishing truly looks like, and how His followers are to live in the world. The teaching that proceeds from the opened mouth of Jesus is not merely philosophical or moral; it is transformative, calling for the total reorientation of life.

The verb “taught” here implies a sustained and systematic instruction. This is not a spontaneous remark or an offhand comment. It is formal teaching, deliberate and crafted, intended for discipleship. This is the rabbi speaking to those who have drawn near—not the crowd at large, but those who have chosen to sit at His feet. The use of the imperfect tense in the original Greek suggests ongoing action. Jesus did not say just one thing and stop; He kept teaching. It conveys an atmosphere of calm, deliberate instruction, the kind that invites reflection, not merely reaction.

This moment also carries rich implications for how we understand the nature of Christ’s mission. He is not merely a wonder-worker or healer, though He does both. He is not merely a moral example, though He exemplifies righteousness. He is a teacher—one who reveals the will of God, interprets the law rightly, and calls His followers into a new way of being. Teaching is central to His ministry, and the content of this teaching is not peripheral—it is central to what it means to be His disciple. The opening of His mouth is not a prelude to entertainment or religious formalism. It is the beginning of divine instruction that pierces the heart and reshapes the world.

Practically speaking, this verse invites modern readers to pause in reverence before rushing into the familiar beatitudes that follow. We are not merely reading ancient poetry or moral insight. We are sitting at the feet of the incarnate Word, who opens His mouth not to dazzle us with rhetorical skill, but to awaken us to the nature of true blessedness, to the cost and glory of the kingdom, and to the way of life that aligns with heaven’s values. It invites us to listen not as spectators, but as those who are being formed—those who are willing to be taught.

In an age of ceaseless noise and fragmented attention, where words are often emptied of meaning and discourse is weaponized, there is something profoundly countercultural about this quiet act: Jesus opened His mouth and taught them. It reminds us that the Christian life begins with listening—not to ourselves, not to the crowd, but to Christ. And not just any version of Christ, but the one who speaks with authority, with clarity, and with love.

Thus, Matthew 5:2 is a moment of sacred stillness—a breath held before the storm of divine truth. It is the silent threshold before the booming voice of the Sermon. It calls us to ready our hearts, to draw near, and to listen—not merely with ears, but with lives open to transformation. For the mouth that opens here is the same that calmed the seas, rebuked the demons, forgave the sinner, and cried out on the cross. And when He opens His mouth, creation listens. Shall we not do the same?

-------------------------------

To all who call upon the name of our Lord Jesus Christ in every place, both near and far, grace to you and peace from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ.

Beloved brothers and sisters, sanctified in Christ Jesus and called to be saints, I write to you with a spirit stirred by the quiet majesty of our Savior, as revealed in the sacred words of Matthew’s Gospel. I would speak to you now of a moment that is often passed over in haste but is filled with heavenly light and holy weight—when the Lord, having ascended the mountain, opened His mouth and taught them.

O what wonder lies in such a simple phrase! Yet no word of Scripture is wasted, and no action of our Lord is without purpose. He opened His mouth—yes, the same mouth that formed the stars when the earth was yet formless and void; the same mouth that spoke through the prophets of old, calling Israel to repentance; the same mouth that will one day speak and raise the dead, and judge the nations. In this moment, that sacred mouth opened not to roar in judgment, nor to strike fear, but to teach. In gentleness and truth, He gave Himself in words.

There is a stillness in this moment that calls for reverence. Before the thunder of truth, there is a calm. Before the Beatitudes fall upon the ears of those who would follow Him, there is a breath drawn and a silence broken. He opened His mouth—not as one who must speak, but as One who chooses to make Himself known. And what follows is not the speech of a man, but the speech of God enfleshed. The Word who was with God and was God, now speaks in human language to call us into divine life.

Let this image pierce your heart, dear saints: the King of glory, seated upon the mountain, not adorned in gold or clothed in worldly might, but wrapped in humility, surrounded not by princes but by fishermen, tax collectors, and the poor in spirit—yet He opens His mouth as the true Lawgiver. Just as Moses once ascended Sinai to receive commandments carved in stone, so now the true and greater Moses ascends and speaks the law not upon tablets but into hearts.

He opened His mouth to teach. Not to command like a tyrant, nor to entertain like the philosophers of the age, but to instruct in the ways of life eternal. His teaching is not for the proud or the self-satisfied, but for those who have come close, those who have left the crowd below to sit at His feet. The Lord never forces His teaching upon those who are far off in heart, but He gives it freely to those who draw near. O how often do we seek signs and wonders, and yet neglect His words? How often do we admire His power and forget that He came as a teacher first?

He taught them. He did not speak in riddles here, nor in parables to confound, but in plain blessing and bold truth. Blessed are the poor in spirit, He will say. Blessed are those who mourn, the meek, the pure in heart. Yet before we hear any of these, we must recognize this: that He taught as one with authority. He did not quote rabbis or appeal to tradition. He spoke from within the heart of God, for He is the very wisdom of God. And when He opens His mouth, the heavens listen.

My beloved, what posture do you take when Christ begins to speak? Are you content to be among the multitude at the foot of the mountain, close enough to see but too far to hear? Or will you ascend in heart and sit at His feet, ready to be taught, willing to be changed? The disciple is not one who merely follows at a distance, but one who longs to hear every word that proceeds from the mouth of God.

In an age where voices are many and truth is sold cheaply, we must return to the mountain. The teachings of our Lord are not outdated advice for a simpler time—they are the eternal words by which the saints live and the world is judged. His words do not fade, though empires fall. His teaching does not bend to culture, though it transcends every age.

He opened His mouth, and what flowed forth was the river of life. Can we then ignore it? Shall we treat His teaching as optional, His voice as background noise to our plans and ambitions? No, my beloved! Let us treasure His teaching as we would a lamp in the night, as bread for our hunger, as water for our thirst. Let us meditate upon His words, not merely to admire them, but to obey them. For it is not the hearer, but the doer of His teaching who is wise, who builds his house upon the rock.

Even now, Christ still opens His mouth through the Scriptures and the Spirit. He still teaches those who come to Him in quietness and humility. If we would silence the noise of the world and incline our hearts to Him, we would find that His voice is not far off. He speaks still. He instructs still. He forms His people still.

Therefore, beloved, I urge you—make time to sit beneath His teaching. Open your heart as He opens His mouth. Receive with meekness the word implanted in you, which is able to save your soul. Let the words of Christ dwell in you richly, shaping your thoughts, ordering your desires, and governing your steps. For in His teaching is life, and in His commandments, freedom.

May the Lord grant you ears to hear, hearts to receive, and lives that reflect the glory of the One who opened His mouth to teach us the way of the kingdom.

Now to Him who speaks peace to His people, and whose word does not return void, be all glory, majesty, and dominion forever and ever.

Amen.

------------------------------

Almighty and Most Merciful Father, who in the fullness of time sent forth Your Son, the living Word, to dwell among us and to reveal the mysteries hidden from the foundation of the world, we come before You now in reverent awe and holy fear, remembering the moment when our Lord Jesus Christ ascended the mountain, sat in peace, and opened His mouth to teach.

O Lord our God, You who thundered from Sinai in days of old, who inscribed commandments upon stone with Your own finger, we bless You that in these last days, You have spoken to us by Your Son, who opened not only His mouth, but His very heart, that we might behold the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ. We give thanks that the Word became flesh and dwelt among us, not in wrath or distance, but with grace and truth, condescending to teach even the lowliest and most unworthy of sinners.

We marvel, O Lord, that He did not teach as the scribes and the philosophers of this world, nor did He flatter the ears of the proud or play to the applause of men. He opened His mouth as one having authority—not borrowed or inherited, but innate and eternal, for He is the Word by whom all things were made. He opened His mouth, and divine wisdom flowed forth like rivers of living water, not to destroy, but to build; not to confuse, but to illumine; not to bind with burdens, but to set captives free.

O Christ our Teacher, Shepherd of our souls, we praise You for stooping low to instruct dust. We are those who once sat in darkness and in the shadow of death, but You opened Your mouth and light broke forth. You spoke blessing over the poor in spirit, comfort to those who mourn, honor to the meek, and fullness to those who hunger and thirst for righteousness. You declared a new world, a new kingdom, a new way—one that confounds the wisdom of the wise and humbles the pride of flesh.

Grant, O Lord, that we would be counted among those disciples who drew near to hear You. Do not let us remain in the crowd below, content with wonders but deaf to Your words. Stir in us the holy desire to ascend—to seek the higher life, the kingdom way, the narrow path that leads to life. Teach us not merely to admire Your speech, but to submit to it. May Your words be to us not like a distant echo, but a present voice, living and active, sharper than any two-edged sword, discerning the thoughts and intentions of our hearts.

We confess, O God, that our ears are dull and our hearts are prone to wander. We are easily satisfied with the teachings of men, quick to listen to the noise of the world, and slow to heed the still, small voice of the One who sits and teaches from the mountain. Forgive us for our distracted minds, our hardened hearts, our shallow obedience. Forgive us for calling You Lord with our lips while resisting the very words You have spoken.

Teach us again, O Christ. Open Your mouth to us today—not in judgment, but in mercy. Speak Your beatitudes into our barrenness. Pronounce Your blessings upon our brokenness. Let the fire of Your teaching burn away our pride, our self-righteousness, our worldly ambitions. Give us the posture of learners, the hunger of disciples, the meekness of children who trust every word that proceeds from the mouth of God.

Holy Spirit, who proceeds from the Father and the Son, we ask You to make the words of Jesus sweet to our souls and strong in our lives. Let His teaching not be a distant memory, but a present power. Illuminate the sacred pages, and write His words not on tablets of stone but upon the fleshy tables of our hearts. Shape us into the image of the One who taught from the mountain, that we may reflect His light in this world so darkened by falsehood and folly.

Father, in a world filled with shouting voices and vain philosophies, make us a people who listen for the voice of Christ. Let His words govern our homes, our churches, our speech, and our secret thoughts. Let His teaching be the treasure we hide in our hearts, the sword we wield in our trials, and the comfort we cling to in affliction. Let us be as those wise builders who not only hear His sayings but do them—who dig deep, who build on rock, who withstand the storms.

We long, O Lord, for the day when that same mouth shall open again—not upon a mountain in Galilee, but from the heavens above, when the trumpet shall sound and the voice of the archangel shall cry out, and our Teacher shall return in glory to gather His own. Until that day, teach us, keep us, sanctify us in truth—Your word is truth.

To Him who opened His mouth and taught with authority, who now intercedes at the right hand of the Father, and who shall come again to judge the living and the dead, be all praise, glory, wisdom, and power, now and forevermore.

Amen.