Lectionary Commentaries for November 16, 2025
Twenty-third Sunday after Pentecost

My son’s fourth-grade class recently received recognition for consistent school attendance. They could vote as a class on their reward, choosing between a homework pass or the ability to bring a stuffed animal to school with them. Perhaps surprisingly, they chose the stuffed animal. One kid told their parents, “You know, there’s really no such thing as a homework pass. You might get to skip it for that day, but you still have to learn it.”  

Perhaps even at this stage, these 10-year-olds have grown to know the truth that homework is inevitable, but school itself is unpredictable. Better to choose the stuffed animal to keep you company, come what may with teachers’ expectations, social dynamics in the lunchroom, or bullies on the playground. 

Jesus interrupts the conversation admiring the temple stones with talk of destruction, ecological disaster, wars, and persecution—things that are seemingly both inevitable and unpredictable. By the time Luke’s text was written, the destruction of the temple had likely already occurred. So the text is not meant to be predictive as much as meaning-making, for those who experienced it and for those who come after. Perhaps the preached event of this text can speak to the truth known deep down: There is really no such thing as getting through unscathed. The question is how people of faith are to respond, and where we find our refuge. 

Impermanence and power

The Jerusalem temple was truly an impressive sight meant to convey power and dominance. But it was created by a ruler whose power was marked by instability and paranoia. Herod wanted desperately to project power, both to Rome and to those he governed, but he was part of a system that was capricious and centered elsewhere. He experienced pressure from below and from above, as well as family relationships marked by perceived threat, betrayal, and violence. The projection was necessary because of the insecurity. 

Jesus’ words caution those who see structures like these and see only evidence of power, stability, and authority. His words about coming catastrophes recontextualize the impermanence of human achievement, whether the temple itself or governmental systems or societal structures. We marvel at our own abilities as humans and often see the achievements of wealth and power as permanent, or at least as lasting—impenetrable. 

But the fragility in the text causes reassessment. People of faith are called away from placing their trust or lasting attention on whatever large stones we see around us. We should instead assume instability, persecution, and unfair systems, and seek the power of God in the midst of them. What powerful illusions do our communities need to reassess? Where does true, divine power lie? What does it look like?

A chance to witness

It’s hard to duck out of the way of this text, even with a long view of history, especially in a world where global and national news is available constantly with endless viewpoints on what it all means. Dire predictions of subsequent developments or assessments of decisions garner more attention than measured ones. Added to this mix is a sense of accelerated instability, increasing potential outcomes. I hear parishioners say, “I’m normally not an alarmist, but do you think [X, Y,  Z] is possible?” 

Jesus acknowledges that truly bad things will happen, and that we should not be surprised when they do. Close followers of Jesus will not be spared from the effects. Apocalyptic literature, which this text echoes, follows a pattern of warnings about calamities, followed by reassurance of God’s provision for the faithful. Following this pattern, the text doesn’t have to point to any specific current events to sound familiar to our hearers and leave them with a sense of unease. If we seek examples, we can expect to find them, because these things are both inevitable and unpredictable. 

This unsettling truth is paired with 1) a reminder of God’s presence and 2) an exhortation to remain faithful. The good news comes in odd packaging. In the face of persecution and trial, Jesus says not to prepare one’s defense. This will be a chance to bear witness to the God of the universe, the One who is unchanging and powerful and yet gives his own Son for the life of the world. At first, this seems like terrible advice. If you know this is coming, and it is an opportunity to testify, surely that merits the same forethought as an Oscar acceptance speech?

But Jesus is clear in his directive that the hearers should decide not to prepare themselves, because God will provide the words and wisdom that will be necessary. The pressure to prepare ahead comes from a fear of not being able to meet the moment. It assumes that the responsibility to witness rests with the accused and that the truth is not trusted to win out over the accusers. 

Jesus’ declaration against preparation is both humbling and comforting. The hearers are not expected to be capable of mounting a sufficient defense. But Jesus promises that the defense will come anyway, from God’s presence in the midst of them. It is endurance, not triumphant acquittal or eloquent defense of the faith, that is lifted up as the virtue. 

Near the end of the church year, during times of increasingly alarming events, the twin reminders of God’s provision and our call to endure are timely and relevant. Preachers connected to the lived realities of their hearers can find the right balance to strike of comfort and challenge, law and gospel, in the news that the temple stones are not as permanent as they seem. 

This short verse and a half from Malachi enters the lectionary without much in the way of context, even lopping off the end of verse 2. Often when the lectionary cuts verses in half, it is to omit a particularly harsh word of judgment, or sometimes because of an uncomfortable image for God. Here, what is removed is a most delightful image of those who have been healed leaping with joy like calves from the stall. I would be tempted to read to the end of the verse.

The book of Malachi as a whole is dialogic in nature and centered on several divine statements and responses, often in the form of questions. For instance, as the book opens, the Lord addresses the people by proclaiming, “I have loved you,” to which the people respond, “How have you loved us?” The Lord then explains what that loving has entailed (Malachi 1:2–5).

At times these exchanges seem antagonistic, with the Lord announcing judgment for the sins of the people, and the people replying with some form of “But how have we done that?” Or, to paraphrase, “Prove it.” At other times, they ring more catechetical, as when the Lord invites the people, “Return to me, and I will return to you.” In response, the people ask how they shall return (Malachi 3:7).

By the time we reach the verses in Malachi 4:1–2a, there has been a steady stream of these exchanges, holding measures of judgment, antagonism, and teaching on topics like theodicy and justice, cultic abuse, and the Day of the Lord. Our assigned pericope about the separation between evildoers and those who revere God’s name, then, follows much discussion, instruction, and response that offers some definition to these groups.

Within the context of the book, the evildoers in Malachi 4:1 have certain characteristics. They are the ones bringing for sacrifice animals that are sick or lame (Malachi 1:6–7)—and keeping the healthier and more valuable animals for themselves. They are the ones who are skimping on tithes—a portion set aside for the care of the Levites. These actions were certainly idolatrous in the sense that they placed economic gain over worship of their God. They also affected the well-being of the community. These tithes and the offerings, if we read Numbers and Deuteronomy, were a part of ensuring that there was food enough for all in the community, including the Levites, who had no land allotted to them.

Eileen Schuller reminds us that the healing and joy described in verse 2 are “meant to speak to the experience of the hired worker, of the widow, of the orphan, and of the alien” as named in Malachi 3:5—those who were to be cared for by the community as a whole but were also at the mercy of people fulfilling their obligations to do so.¹ For these, the Day of the Lord is good news of justice and freedom. For others, though, the situation is different. The arrogant and evildoers are burned to stubble. No root or branch is left of them.

One of the challenges in reading judgment texts such as these is that it is not only evil that is rooted out, but evildoers. It is much more comfortable to read that evil in the community—as in our own hearts—will be rooted out. That is not what our text says, though. Here, pleas for justice sit alongside our own questions about forgiveness and repentance.

Responses to such questions are as complex as the questions themselves, for humans and sinful structures are necessarily bound up with one another. Focusing solely on individuals labeled as arrogant or as evildoers, as if we can identify them or remove ourselves from their number, fails to acknowledge repentance, forgiveness, the ways that no person is without sin, and the communal structures to which humans are bound.

In a sermon, a focus on the “what” over the “who” offers opportunities to talk about any number of the issues the book of Malachi raises. Yet, to talk about these things in the abstract without acknowledging that humans are caught up as both perpetrators and victims of unjust systems can easily lead to a lack of opportunity for confession and acknowledgment of one’s own part in this—as well as watering down the promise of healing for those sermon listeners who are among the most dependent on communal care and are most hurt by the failures related to that care. In both cases, removing the human element also lessens the opportunity to lift mercy as a core characteristic of God.

A few images in Malachi 4:1–2 aid in threading this needle:

1. Evil will be rooted out. On the Day of the Lord, evil will lose its power. Those who wield it will no longer be able to do so. This eschatological promise is good news, not least because it is the Lord acting as judge rather than humans.
2. Those who revere (Hebrew: fear) the Lord’s name shall be healed. The image of the sun of righteousness rising carries warmth and goodness. Noticeable is the fact that healing is both necessary and given. Rather than a discussion of revenge or superiority, the image given is healing. These have not escaped unscathed but are in need of being brought into the fullness of God.
3. The day is joyous. Often, descriptions of the Day of the Lord are more violent and scary than what we have in Malachi. Here, alongside the image of healing sunlight, comes the image of leaping calves—young beings who cannot stand still for the joy in their limbs. Would that we all experience this joy!

These two short verses—or one and a half if you skip the calves—carry with them challenging messages about our lives together. A sermon that gives voice to these, as well as to the healing presence of God in our midst, would be as worthwhile as challenging.

Notes

1. Eileen M. Schuller, “Malachi,” The New Interpreter’s Bible, vol. 7 (Abingdon, 1996), 874.

Isaiah 40–66, a supremely hopeful section, contains prophecies at the end of the exile, both in Babylon and in Jerusalem. Within this section there are many “remixes” of Israel’s tradition for a new experience: a way prepared in the wilderness that both recalls the exodus and points forward to a return from exile (Isaiah 40:3); God’s steadfast, sure love for David as a sign of a new everlasting covenant (55:3); calling to look back to Abraham and Sarah as a symbol of comfort and rebirth in the present time (51:2).

Remixing Genesis 1

Here at the end of the book of Isaiah, God is doing what God does: creating and rejoicing. God, of course, does many other things throughout the book of Isaiah, not to mention the Hebrew Bible, but creating is one of those things that is paradigmatic of God. And when God creates, God rejoices. When God creates new heavens and a new earth (verse 17) or creates Jerusalem as a joy (verse 18), the verb “to create” is the same that appears in Genesis 1 (Hebrew: bara’). Repeated three times in the first three verses of this Sunday’s pericope, it is thematic as it points forward to something new while noting its coherence with God’s creation in Genesis 1.

Two words for rejoicing/joy (Hebrew: gyl) and delight/glad (shush) are also each repeated three times in verses 17–19. Neither of these words occurs in the creation accounts in Genesis 1–3, but they are thematically connected. One can’t help but remember that God called creation good there too, and that the trees in the primordial garden were described as pleasant to the sight and good for food. In God’s creation, there is joy.

Remixing Genesis 2–3

Verses 19b–25 provide examples of what the new heavens and the new earth will be like. The examples offered cohere with the experiences of a people who have suffered the generational trauma that comes with conquest and exile. Famine and violence will no longer bring the near certainty of an early death (verse 20). The people will remain in the homes they build (verses 21–22). They can bear children with hope for a better future rather than the certainty of calamity (verse 23).

At the same time, the imagery continues to echo the Genesis creation accounts, less through shared vocabulary than through shared image and idea. The focus in Isaiah 19b–25 is on Genesis 2–3, with a particular emphasis on a reversal of the curses in Genesis 3:14–19.

For example, when verse 20 describes a future in which long life will be the norm, one may call to mind that the first humans were banished from the primordial garden in Genesis 3:22, “lest they take also from the tree of life and eat and live forever.” While Isaiah 65:20 is far from a promise of immortality, it does describe a full measure of life.

Verse 23 remixes imagery from Genesis 3:14–19, the passage in which the Lord God curses the animals, the woman, the man, and the earth in light of the humans eating fruit from the tree of knowledge of good and evil. Unlike what is described in Genesis 3:17–19, where the ground is cursed, with the result that man who tries to grow food will toil away for very little gain, the residents of the new heaven and new earth will not labor in vain (verse 23). In the new heaven and new earth, women shall not bear children for calamity, a reference to language in Genesis 3:16 about painful childbirth and life in the broken world described in that passage.

Verse 25, the final verse in the assigned pericope, describes a vision of predator and prey eating together. This recalls a similar vision in Isaiah 11:6–8 of predator and prey coexisting peaceably. Even children and serpents shall put down their animosity for one another and live safely together. This image of the so-called peaceable kingdom alludes to Eden, where all creatures coexisted well, despite the practical implications of such a situation.

Isaiah 65 diverges from Isaiah 11 with its statement that the serpent will eat dust. Unlike other creatures, the serpent will continue to reap the consequences of the curse, seemingly to guard against continued temptation or harm. Humans will not need to worry about even that in the new heaven and the new earth.

Remembering the former things

So much of this passage is about remembering former things—ironic for a reading that begins with the statement that the former things will not be remembered. This tension exists throughout Isaiah 40–66, with the people sometimes being instructed to remember the former things and sometimes to not remember them. In this passage, where one is not to remember, the former things center on past judgment and suffering. Yet, one must remember some things to make sense of the passage: creation, the exodus, return from exile.

Frederick J. Gaiser acknowledges that the phrase “former things” is a bit slippery and refers to different things in different contexts. In each case, whether remembering or forgetting the former things, the emphasis is on the “incomparable superiority of the future” and a new beginning for “the broken history of salvation.”¹

A similar tension exists in our ever-changing world. Tradition and history—the former things—witness both to our God and to our ancestors in the faith. There is much there to learn and to honor. Yet honoring tradition and history can all too easily lead to idolatry and an inability to turn toward the future things—that is, the ongoing and future work of God’s salvation. A sermon on this text might focus on this tension alongside the certainty of God’s faithfulness, creating a “remix” of God’s creative and salvific work for the present context.

Notes

1. Frederick J. Gaiser, “‘Remember the Former Things of Old’: A New Look at Isaiah 46:3–13,” Word & World Supplement Series 1 (1992): 53–63.

We read today’s psalm lection in light of two expectations:¹ Next week “Christ the King” Sunday celebrates his eternal, messianic reign; in two weeks, the first Sunday of Advent marks a new liturgical year with expectation of the coming Messiah. Thus, Psalm 98—the scriptural basis for “Joy to the World”—invites our joyful praise with bookending rationale: the “marvelous things” King YHWH has done (verse 1), and the fact that YHWH “is coming to judge the earth” (verse 9).  It therefore fits well in the series of enthronement psalms (Psalms 93–100).

Psalm 98 is a thing of poetic beauty. As I just noted, it is framed by two reasons for praise, marked with the particle kî (“for”). Most commentators recognize a tripartite structure, typically divided around subject matter, such as Weiser’s headings: YHWH’s deeds (verses 1–3); call for the world to praise (verses 4–6); call for nature to praise (verses 7–9).² Balancing these three sections, however, is a striking verbal precision. After the opening, imperatival invitation (“Sing to the LORD a new song”), there are 18 verbs equally divided across the sections:

Six verbs in the perfect conjugation (verses 1b–3)

Six verbs in the imperative conjugation (verses 4–6)

Six verbs, comprised of four imperfects, one infinitive, and one participle conjugation (verses 7–9).³

Moreover, one of the more prominent repetitions is the word eres (“earth”), occurring once in each of the three sections.

Finally, three uses of the root zmr (“sing/make music”) are clustered at the center of the poem within seven words of each other (verses 4–5), with a fourth use of that root being the single-term superscription mizmôr (“melody”).

The point of this description is to highlight the indissoluble union of a psalm’s poetic features with its message. Philosophically speaking, Psalm 98 is the integration of beauty, truth, and goodness.

As I reflect on the psalm’s contribution to our worship, three areas of study come to mind: ecology, eschatology, and ecclesiology.

Ecology 

This is not one of the classic loci of Christian theology, but perhaps it ought to be. At the very least, the Bible offers a theological ecology. Psalm 98 is not alone in its concern for the earth or in its underlying assumption that God cares about this place of residence. The threefold use of eres (“earth”) is tied to another repetition: tebel (“world,” verses 7, 9). Both are called to praise God (verses 4, 7), and both will be judged (verse 9).

Nancy deClaissé-Walford explores the richness of the term tebel “as earth’s habitable space.” God’s intimate, creative relationship with the “world” demands that we embrace God’s intention for equity and justice for all creation. And this is not merely what we ought to do but what we were made to do, as Ellen Davis eloquently states: 

An ecological concept of praise has immense implications, for if indeed every one of God’s works is specifically designed for glorification, then the praise of God cannot be viewed as an activity in which human beings engage occasionally or even electively. Rather, praise is woven into the very web of reality, as the primary mode of communication between Creator and creature, expressing their mutual respect and delight.⁴

Eschatology  

Psalm 98 concludes with a positive outlook on the coming judgment of God. That should strike us as very strange, since we typically don’t think of being judged—by people or God—as a positive experience. Perhaps that is why Christian eschatology, the study of last things, evokes such ambivalence. I was not raised in a tradition that followed elaborate timetables based on the book of Daniel, showed scary movies about the rapture, or evangelized people with the question “If you were to die tonight, do you know that you would go to heaven?”

Psalm 98 simply lays it out there with an open-ended participle: YHWH “is coming” (verse 9). One reason that YHWH’s coming is a cause for joy is his consistency across the psalm: The YHWH who reveals “vindication” (sedekah) in verse 3 is the same YHWH who judges with “righteousness” (sedek) in verse 9. This consistency reminds me of T. F. Torrance’s famous statement, “There is thus no God behind the back of Jesus Christ, but only this God whose face we see in the face of the Lord Jesus.”⁵  

Ecclesiology  

The eschatological hope for God’s righteous judgment carries major implications for the church’s life here and now: “God’s righteousness aims [at] nurturing healthy, healing relationships within the faith community and between God and humanity.”⁶

Psalm 98 challenges the church that gathers for worship. Brueggemann and Bellinger aptly state that some churches have “considerable substance in their worship but little joy or enthusiasm. Others show great enthusiasm but little substance”⁷ The so-called worship wars, as David Lewicki rightly diagnosed, are a “trivial conversation until we can muster up the music locked inside that we were created to sing together. Do we even know what that song sounds like?”⁸

Each congregation and congregant can feel the claim of this psalm as well as its potential impact. Lewicki eloquently declares: “If Psalm 98 demands anything of the reader, let it be a careful inventory of everything in this life that stirs song. This psalm wants to take all of us to that kind of place.”⁹

Notes

1. Commentary previously published on this website for November 13, 2022.
2. Artur Weiser, The Psalms: A Commentary, 5th ed., OTL (Westminster John Knox, 1962), 637.
3.  The last section begins with three of the imperfect verbs, used as invitations to praise (e.g., “Let the sea roar”), and the fourth imperfect verb (“he will judge”) is the last verb of the psalm.
4.  Ellen Davis, “Psalm 98: Rejoicing in Judgment,” Interpretation 46 (1992): 175.
5. Thomas F. Torrance, The Christian Doctrine of God, One Being Three Persons (T & T Clark. 1996), 243.
6.  Davis, 172.
7. Walter Brueggemann and William H. Bellinger, Psalms (Cambridge, 2014), 422.
8. David Lewicki, “Psalm 98,” Interpretation 69 (2015): 210.
9. Lewicki, 209.

In early May of 2011, while I was teaching undergraduates, a noticeably distraught student approached me before class and asked me, “Should I be worried about the end of the world?” She was referring to the prediction by radio Bible teacher Harold Camping that the beginning of the a great turmoil on earth was set for May 11, 2011. It would last until October 21, 2011—in other words, the “Final Judgment.” 

Camping was not the first to predict Doomsday in American history, but he may have been the richest, supported by over $100 million of donations from his followers. I remember reading reports of families selling their homes, quitting their jobs, and shedding their worldly belongings in preparation for the apocalypse. When May and October 2011 came and went without a noticeable cataclysm, an astonishing number of people were penniless, jobless, and disillusioned. 

These kinds of doomsday crusaders who gave up on living to prepare for the next life may have been spared some heartache and loss if they had simply heeded Paul’s teaching from 2 Thessalonians 3:6–13. This passage does not explicitly mention the apocalypse, but most scholars believe 2 Thessalonians 2 (about future eschatological events) and chapter 3 (verses 6–13, about quietly attending to honest labor) are related. 

Scholarly perspectives on 2 Thessalonians 3:6–13

A more traditional scholarly view is that a good number of believers in Thessalonica had become obsessed with the imminent end of the world (for one reason or another) and simply gave up on earthly activities in preparation for the end (not unlike Camping’s devotees). The reasoning goes like this: At the end of 1 Thessalonians, Paul had made a brief comment, “Admonish the idlers” (5:14a). He had caught wind of some who had become lazy (older commentaries used the language of “loafers”), and Paul offered a short exhortation to keep these people in line, hoping that would do the trick. Unfortunately, the problem got much worse, and part of the purpose of the second letter to the Thessalonians was to get these “idlers” back to work.

A second theory, though, emerged in the 1980s, which tried to explain the problem with these “idlers” apart from eschatological fervor. R. Russell published an article explaining 2 Thessalonians 3:6–13 in terms of a socioeconomic phenomenon in the Thessalonian church: Some low-status and poor believers were attaching themselves to well-to-do believers. This was relatively common in the Roman world as part of their patronage system. But Paul was insistent that each believer should do their own work and earn their keep (as able). 

While the socioeconomic interpretation has its supporters, I am inclined toward a more eschatological theory, but with a twist. The language of “idlers” is the Greek word ataktos (and its cognates). Many scholars (including me) agree that it has often been mistranslated in 1 and 2 Thessalonians as “idlers” or “loafers.” The word more straightforwardly refers to unruliness or insubordination (see King James Version: “warn them that are unruly”). It is not so much that believers had given up on their work to do nothing; rather, they had given up on work to make trouble (2 Thessalonians 3:11). 

My proposal is that, in response to murmurs and whispers about the imminent apocalypse, some believers in Thessalonica took it upon themselves to promote themselves to leadership positions and devise a plan to address doomsday turmoil. It is not that they were not busy at all, but rather that they had become “busybodies” (3:11). Paul wanted all the Thessalonian Christians to live day-by-day in faithfulness to the Lord and in good, honest work and to prove themselves productive members of society. 

The best way to honor the Lord is not to drop all activity lazily and wait for the end, nor to rush around like busybodies. Rather, it is to do all things, including the work we are called to, in service and honor of the Lord and “to aspire to live quietly, to mind your own affairs, and to work with your hands, as we directed you, so that you may behave properly toward outsiders and be dependent on no one” (1 Thessalonians 4:11–12). Paul, who arguably had one of the most important “spiritual” jobs in the world as apostle to the Gentiles, modeled good and honest work himself, laboring with his hands so as not to be an unnecessary financial burden on anyone.

Tips for preaching 2 Thessalonians 3:6–13

#1: Promote honest work for those who are able. Paul repeats the saying “Anyone unwilling to work should not eat” (3:10). It is important to note that Paul does not make a blanket statement that those who do not work cannot eat. That is to say, his focus is on those who can but choose not to work, not on those who are ill or disabled and simply cannot work. Paul was not speaking into political conversations about disability or welfare in this text, and he was not critiquing stay-at-home parents. 

#2: Point to the example of Paul and his apostolic partners. Paul had every right to earn his living directly from the churches that he ministered to, just as the Lord Jesus himself allowed (1 Corinthians 9:14). Many people, in Paul’s time and in ours, think that the goal of life is to have enough money and resources to retire early and live a life of leisure. That may be the American Dream (or the Roman Dream), but that is not the vision for the people of Jesus. Paul was proud of his work because it meant there was more money for others, especially others in need (2 Corinthians 8:8–15; see also Galatians 2:10; Ephesians 4:28).

#3: Teach believers how to live a “quiet life.” In both 1 and 2 Thessalonians, Paul emphasizes living a “quiet life” in relation to work (1 Thessalonians 4:11; 2 Thessalonians 3:12). By this, Paul does not mean vacationing by the beach or spending time contemplating life while camping in the woods or on a mountaintop. He means something like a “contented life.” 

It’s probably easier to describe a “noisy” life than a “quiet” one in our culture. A noisy life is obsessed with upward mobility in culture. A noisy life clamors for attention in meetings or on social media. A noisy life wants to be noticed and to become the envy of coworkers, our community, or the public at large. 

Alternatively, a quiet life focuses on pleasing the Lord and on good work with our minds and our bodies toward a good end in society. Paul probably imagined bakers exercising skill and diligence in their food production, teachers diligently learning and studying so they can offer sound instruction, and garment makers ensuring that their clothing not only is pleasing to the eye but will last. 

Second Thessalonians 3:6–13 is one of the few Pauline texts that offers a theology of work and labor. This is extremely formative for helping everyday Christians process the majority of their day, most days of the week, which is paid work. Too many, I imagine, simply go about their day grinding out work, looking forward to some rest and relaxation in the evenings or on the weekends. There’s nothing wrong with that, as the Sabbath practice reminds us. But our view of work could be more theologically rich and satisfying if we understood how it is part of how God has made us as humans who work together in society to strengthen and benefit our community for the common good: “Brothers and sisters, do not weary in doing what is right” (2 Thessalonians 3:13).

Recommended resources

Gupta, Nijay K. 1 & 2 Thessalonians. New Covenant Commentary Series. Eugene, OR: Cascade, 2016.

Gupta, Nijay K. 1 & 2 Thessalonians. Zondervan Critical Introductions to the New Testament. Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 2019.

Johnson, Andy. 1 & 2 Thessalonians. Two Horizons. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2016.

Marshall, Molly T. 1 & 2 Thessalonians. Belief. Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox, 2022.

Russell, “The Idle in 2 Thess 3.6–12: An Eschatological or a Social Problem?,” NTS 34 (1988), 105–119.