CHAPTER 30

Matthew 21:1–22

images/nec-39-1.jpg LISTEN to the Story

21As they approached Jerusalem and came to Bethphage on the Mount of Olives, Jesus sent two disciples, 2saying to them, “Go to the village ahead of you, and at once you will find a donkey tied there, with her colt by her. Untie them and bring them to me. 3If anyone says anything to you, say that the Lord needs them, and he will send them right away.”

4This took place to fulfill what was spoken through the prophet:

5“Say to Daughter Zion,

‘See, your king comes to you,

gentle and riding on a donkey,

and on a colt, the foal of a donkey.’ ”

6The disciples went and did as Jesus had instructed them. 7They brought the donkey and the colt and placed their cloaks on them for Jesus to sit on. 8A very large crowd spread their cloaks on the road, while others cut branches from the trees and spread them on the road. 9The crowds that went ahead of him and those that followed shouted,

“Hosanna to the Son of David!”

“Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord!”

“Hosanna in the highest heaven!”

10When Jesus entered Jerusalem, the whole city was stirred and asked, “Who is this?”

11The crowds answered, “This is Jesus, the prophet from Nazareth in Galilee.”

12Jesus entered the temple courts and drove out all who were buying and selling there. He overturned the tables of the money changers and the benches of those selling doves. 13“It is written,” he said to them, “ ‘My house will be called a house of prayer,’ but you are making it ‘a den of robbers.’ ”

14The blind and the lame came to him at the temple, and he healed them. 15But when the chief priests and the teachers of the law saw the wonderful things he did and the children shouting in the temple courts, “Hosanna to the Son of David,” they were indignant.

16“Do you hear what these children are saying?” they asked him.

“Yes,” replied Jesus, “have you never read,

‘From the lips of children and infants

you, Lord, have called forth your praise’?”

17And he left them and went out of the city to Bethany, where he spent the night.

18Early in the morning, as Jesus was on his way back to the city, he was hungry. 19Seeing a fig tree by the road, he went up to it but found nothing on it except leaves. Then he said to it, “May you never bear fruit again!” Immediately the tree withered.

20When the disciples saw this, they were amazed. “How did the fig tree wither so quickly?” they asked.

21Jesus replied, “Truly I tell you, if you have faith and do not doubt, not only can you do what was done to the fig tree, but also you can say to this mountain, ‘Go, throw yourself into the sea,’ and it will be done. 22If you believe, you will receive whatever you ask for in prayer.”

Listening to the Text in the Story: Genesis 49:10–11; Deuteronomy 18:15–19; 2 Samuel 5:6–8; 7:12–13; 1 Kings 1:32–40; 2 Kings 9:12–13; Psalms 8:2; 69:9; 118:22–26; Isaiah 1:3; 34:4; 56:7; 62:11; Jeremiah 7:9–11; 8:13; 24:1–10; 26:11; Hosea 9:10, 16–17; Zechariah 9:9; 14:4; Malachi 3:1–6; 4:1–3.

How would Jesus show Jerusalem that he was the Messiah of Israel? Offer a repeat performance of what he did in Galilee by healing the needy, feeding the hungry, and walking on water? Or, would he find the highest location in Jerusalem and offer “The Sermon on the Mount, part 2”? Would he gather the Twelve and give them special instructions on how they would gather the “lost sheep” in Jerusalem before sending them into the city of David? Or, would he set up shop somewhere inside the city and expect the crowds to show up looking for help? If he did any of these things, it would have made sense, given his track record. But instead Jesus entered Jerusalem according to an ancient script that had been written over the ages—the day the son of David would claim the throne of his forefather and make all of God’s promises come true (1 Kgs 1:32–40).1 In fact, the way Matthew tells the story of Jesus’s royal entrance into Jerusalem, Jesus staged the event according to these messianic expectations (Zech 9:9), sending two of his disciples to find a donkey and her foal to carry him through the eastern gate (Matt 21:1–7). Jesus’s entourage picked up on the gesture, deciding to join the performance by gathering branches and laying their garments on the road leading into Jerusalem (v. 8), re-creating the scene of a newly anointed king who would lead a successful military campaign against his enemies (2 Kgs 9:1–13).2 Up to this point, Jesus had encouraged his followers to keep his messianic identity a secret (Matt 16:20). Now, however, having come to the climax of his story, Jesus knew it was time to let the whole world know—especially the citizens of Jerusalem—that their long-awaited Messiah was here. He had talked a lot about a kingdom. Now it was time to present the king. Finally, Jerusalem would see their king coming to them “gentle and riding on a donkey,” just as Zechariah prophesied.

For all the ostentatious display of Jesus’s royal introduction to Jerusalem, the citizenry was not impressed. They mused over the spectacle of these rural folk pouring into the big city with their Galilean prophet in tow, hailing him as the new king with shouts of “hosanna to the Son of David!” and “blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord!” (Ps 118:25–26;3 Matt 21:9). Taking in the “charade,” some citizens muttered contemptuously to no one in particular, “Who is this?” (Matt 21:10).4 They probably knew who he was. More than likely his reputation had preceded him since their leaders had probably reported what they learned during their reconnaissance mission (15:1). But it was the parade of Galileans marching into town,5 acting like one of their own was someone special, that must have appeared incredibly pretentious to the ruling class.6 So, when the city-dwellers harrumphed, “Who does this guy think he is?” the outsiders proudly shouted back, “This is Jesus, the prophet from Nazareth in Galilee” (Matt 21:11). “Nazareth! Can anything good come from there?”—the insiders must have thought (John 1:46). This was more than the age-old contest of rural folk clashing with the big city, farmers and fishermen coming to challenge the retainer class. The Messiah was supposed to be an insider—royal blood coursing through his veins—if not from Jerusalem at least from Judea (Matt 2:6). Everyone knew the one who was destined to inherit David’s throne wasn’t supposed to come from Galilee. Therefore, the way Jerusalem saw it, these country bumpkins had forgotten their place in society, having come to town to shake up the establishment: “The whole city was stirred” (21:10).

It may seem to us like an unusual place to begin acting like a king, throwing a “temple tantrum” in Herod’s massive addition to the holy place, the court of the gentiles (21:12–13). One wonders whether the Galileans who had accompanied Jesus to observe Passover expected him to march straight to the Roman governor’s quarters and run the despot out of town. Certainly, if the kingdom of heaven were to come to earth, it would have to begin with the king pushing God’s enemies out of Jerusalem. And what better enemy—the first to go!—than the Roman Empire? But Jesus had grander designs, for God had promised king David that one of his descendants would “build a house for my Name,” and therefore God promised that “I will establish the throne of his kingdom forever” (2 Sam 7:13). Besides, the temple was the first thing he saw when he entered Jerusalem through the eastern gate. And so, once again conforming to the messianic script,7 Jesus’s first stop in Jerusalem had to be the temple. Acting like the prophesied Son of David who would build a house for God and thereby establish his kingdom forever, Jesus showed all of Jerusalem what he meant when he told the Pharisees, “Something greater than the temple is here” (Matt 12:6).8

images/nec-42-1.jpg EXPLAIN the Story

Jesus took Jerusalem by storm. Rather than play it safe and sneak into the Holy City, setting up some clandestine operation to slowly but surely take over the place (like yeast leavening the entire lump), Jesus made his intentions known from the start. Yet he didn’t march through the streets shouting, “Your Messiah is here!” He didn’t even try to amaze the citizens with miraculous feats of divine power. Come to think of it, Jesus didn’t perform many miracles in Jerusalem. (Was it a repeat of Matt 13:58?) Instead, the way Jesus made his royal presence known was to employ a more prophetic strategy, doing strange things to get people’s attention. Like Jeremiah’s broken pot (Jer 19:1–15) or Elijah’s drought declaration (1 Kgs 17:1), Jesus performed symbolic actions (clearing the temple, cursing the fig tree) to deliver the message of God’s judgment against the rulers of Jerusalem.9 If Jesus came to Jerusalem to reign as God’s chosen, that would certainly mean the current leadership was in trouble. They hadn’t been taking care of God’s house; they weren’t running the place rightly. If they had, they would have welcomed God’s anointed one, handing over the keys of the city to him. Yet, to their way of thinking Jesus was an intruder, the rogue prophet who was going to take things too far. Therefore, the priests ensured Jesus would suffer a fate worse than Jeremiah or Elijah. Back then, the priest in charge of the temple had Jeremiah beaten and put in stocks (Jer 20:1–2); Elijah escaped from king Ahab by hiding in Zarephath (1 Kgs 17:7–10). But Jesus would find no refuge in Jerusalem, not even in a park outside the city. God wouldn’t provide the same protection as he did for Elijah. Instead, Jesus would be hunted down, arrested, beaten, and turned over to the Romans to be impaled on a cross. Treated worse than Jeremiah, Jesus would become the laughingstock of Israel, thrown out of the Holy City like refuse. Enter like a king; exit like a criminal.

But it’s not like Jesus was an innocent victim of the sinister ways of the corrupt ruling class, a harmless dove who fell into the hands of these wicked leaders. Jesus didn’t come into the city preaching love and forgiveness only to be assaulted by merciless hatemongers. Rather, Jesus got what was coming to him, doing several things that would get anyone killed. Indeed, to any casual observer Jesus’s behavior during Passover would have appeared as though this Galilean outsider had a death wish, provoking the Jerusalem insiders—priests and scribes—when he cleared the temple and predicted its demise (Matt 21:12–13; 24:1–2; cf. Jer 26:8–11). It was the high priest’s responsibility to keep the peace in Jerusalem so that the Romans wouldn’t take their usual mallet-to-a-fly approach, crushing any appearance of unrest by rounding up innocent victims and making them pay for the foolish behavior of a few. Passover during Roman occupation of Judea had a bloody history at times.10 So, when Jesus created a disturbance in the temple, the very center of all Jewish religious activity, the chief priests were immediately wedged between a rock (pacifying the Roman Empire) and a hard place (placating a rogue prophet). From their perspective, Jesus was asking for trouble. It’s one thing to stage a little parade, pretending you’re a king. It’s quite something else to clear the temple, acting like you own the place.

“Zeal for Your House Consumes Me” (Ps 69:9)

From the time of Solomon to the destruction of the temple by Nebuchadnezzar (587/6 BC), there were few kings who did what was right in the sight of the Lord. Most rulers, whether of the Northern Kingdom, Israel, or the Southern Kingdom, Judah, did what was evil in the sight of the Lord; that is, they promoted idolatry. Good kings, on the other hand, not only took measures to abolish idolatry, destroying shrines to other gods, they restored the temple by purifying it. At the beginning of his reign, Hezekiah purified the temple by “removing all defilement from the sanctuary” and reconsecrated the priests who served under the wicked king Ahaz (2 Chr 29:1–19). But his efforts didn’t last long. When Josiah became king, he found a neglected temple in an awful state of disrepair. Having discovered the lost book of the law during his renovation of the temple, Josiah launched a reformation that was supposed to seal the allegiance of the people in their worship of a holy God (2 Chr 34:1–33).11 But that didn’t last either. After the temple was destroyed by the Babylonians, not even Zerubbabel’s efforts to rebuild the temple made Haggai’s prophesies come true: “The glory of this present house will be greater than the glory of the former house” (Hag 2:9). The temple built by Zerubbabel was a pitiful site compared to Solomon’s magnificent structure. Things were getting worse, not better. That’s why Malachi longed for the “coming one”—a divine figure?—to visit God’s house and purify the temple, even refining the priests “like gold and silver” (Mal 3:1–4). The day God visited his house would be a fiery ordeal, a purifying presence that would restore his temple to its intended purpose: “Then the LORD will have men who will bring offerings in righteousness, and the offerings of Judah and Jerusalem will be acceptable to the LORD” (vv. 3–4).

But Jesus never made it to the holy place where sacrifices were offered to God. Evidently, the sight of merchants selling animals in the court of the gentiles outside the temple proper was enough to incite his prophetic zeal to purify the place as soon as he entered the complex. By overturning the benches of those selling sacrificial doves to the poor and toppling the tables of those exchanging Roman coins for Jewish currency, Jesus put the trustees of the temple on notice (Matt 21:12–13). They had let the place go, turning sacred space into a marketplace.12 Animals for sacrifice once sold outside the temple complex were now conveniently available for purchase in the court of the gentiles. Money changers kept corrupt Roman currency—with its graven image of Caesar—out of the temple proper. All of this was to facilitate the pure worship of God. But Jesus found the whole practice detestable. By quoting a mash-up of Isaiah’s end-time vision of the temple, “My house will be called a house of prayer” (Isa 56:7) and a phrase from Jeremiah’s temple sermon predicting its destruction, “But you are making it ‘a den of robbers’ ” (Jer 7:11), Jesus justified his efforts of purification. The front porch of the temple (the court of the gentiles), intended to welcome all nations, had become a Jewish agora.13 Since gentiles weren’t allowed in the temple, this massive courtyard was supposed to be a place where all nations could pray to the God of Israel. But Jesus saw the mercantile necessity of money changing hands as prohibitive to prayer.14 Therefore, it seems the location of buying and selling troubled Jesus (thus the quotation from Isaiah). The gentiles had been doubly marginalized: once by walls, twice by contempt. Not only that, but Jesus implied that the entire business of selling animals and exchanging currency was corrupt (thus the quotation from Jeremiah). They had turned God’s house of prayer into a “den of robbers.” Yet what does that mean?

Scholars are divided on this issue.15 Either Jesus was implying that he needed to purify the place where people were getting robbed,16 or Jesus was pronouncing judgment on a place where robbers hoped to hide from God’s righteous indignation.17 In other words, some infer from Jesus’s actions that the merchants were selling sacrificial animals at an exorbitant price, and perhaps even that currency was being exchanged at an unreasonably high rate. One has to pay for convenience (like five-dollar drinks and seven-dollar popcorn at the movies—location, location, location). Either that or Jesus’s motivation for clearing the temple was the same as Jeremiah’s for delivering his infamous temple sermon: “Will you steal and murder, commit adultery and perjury, burn incense to Baal and follow other gods you have not known, and then come and stand before me in this house, which bears my Name, and say, ‘We are safe’—safe to do detestable things?” (Jer 7:9–10). The same was true for Jesus’s day: corrupt religious leaders were using the temple as a sanctuary, seeking protection from the wrath of God through animal sacrifice (the prophets hated that presumption; “To obey is better than sacrifice!”; 1 Sam 15:22, emphasis added). That’s why Jesus (and Jeremiah) called the temple a “robber’s den.” Thievery doesn’t happen in the robber’s den; it’s where robbers go to hide out from their crimes.18

Yet if that were the case, why did Jesus pick on the merchants and the money changers since they weren’t doing anything unjust? He should have gone straight to the holy place and overturned the tables of incense if the temple needed purification due to wicked priests. But there’s another problem, not only with the temple cleansing as judgment but also as purification. If Jesus intended to “clean up the place” so that sacrifices would be acceptable to God (like Malachi envisioned), then why would he turn right around and predict its destruction (Matt 24:1–2)? Had he so quickly come to the conclusion that the whole thing was hopeless? Cleansing the temple on Sunday, resigned to its destruction on Monday? What’s the point of trying to reform the old place (Jer 26:12–13) when Jesus came to build a new temple (Matt 16:18)? That question has led some scholars to suggest that the whole thing was a prophetic act.19 Jesus wasn’t offering a commentary on the righteousness of the priests or the purity of the temple. The place wasn’t “dirty,” and the priests weren’t “corrupt.” Rather, like the prophets of old Jesus’s “temple tantrum” was symbolic, one that was required to signal the end of the old age and the beginning of the new. In other words, Jesus’s temple clearing was not only a sign pointing back to Malachi’s prophecy—God visiting his temple—but also a signal ahead of its imminent destruction. Before a new temple can be built, the old one must be destroyed. So, Jesus’s actions in the temple—the earthquake of turning over tables, shaking up the place—were a living parable, acting out the prophecy of its destruction. “God has left the building.” Without its divine occupant, it would only be a matter of time until the whole thing imploded. No more trying to prop up the old, hoping to clean up the place and reform the priesthood. Rather, the Son of David came to build the eternal house of God, the sanctuary of his kingdom that would last forever. Out with the old, in with the new—a house made without human hands.20 Indeed, something greater than the temple is here.

However we interpret Jesus’s actions and thereby determine his intentions (he left it open to interpretation, like the parables!), what he did in the temple on “Palm Sunday” was climactic to his entire ministry. In fact, it could be said that everything Jesus had done to this point led to this moment. All along, Jesus had defied conventional wisdom and challenged traditional practices through his teaching and wonder-working ministry. Therefore, it isn’t surprising that in the aftermath of his tornadic activity that cleared God’s house of all the “debris,” the blind and the lame were welcomed into the temple, and children seemed to be the only ones praising God for it (Matt 21:14–15).21 It was more than the chief priests and teachers of the law could take.22 They were indignant: “Do you hear what these children are saying?” (v. 16). A proper sense of shame should have compelled Jesus to shush them up because children often don’t know what they are saying. Or perhaps Jesus could have defended them by pointing out the obvious: when the blind and the lame find healing in the temple, shouldn’t we all celebrate the miraculous work of God? Instead, Jesus quoted the first part of Psalm 8:2 LXX: “From the lips of children and infants you, Lord, have called forth your praise” (Matt 21:16). He left it to his accusers to finish the rest: “Through the praise of children and infants you have established a stronghold against your enemies, to silence the foe and the avenger” (Ps 8:2, emphasis added). But we will learn soon enough that the messianic praise of these children didn’t silence Jesus’s enemies. When he returned to the temple the next day, the religious leaders would be lying in wait to confront this rogue prophet in hopes of proving that these ignorant children were wrong. And I can’t help but hear echoes of Jesus’s teaching, “Truly I tell you, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven. . . . And whoever welcomes one such child in my name welcomes me” (Matt 18:3, 5). Even if we had never read this part of Matthew’s Gospel, one could tell where this story is headed.

“May You Never Bear Fruit Again!”

Everyone knows the purpose of a fig tree is to bear figs. But when Jesus inspected a fig tree on his way to Jerusalem the next morning, he didn’t find any fruit (Matt 21:18–19). Having spent the night in Bethany (just outside Jerusalem, v. 17), Jesus headed for the city again. (Obviously, none of the city dwellers invited him to stay with them—the honorable thing to do for travelers who were held in high esteem. But Jesus was rejected by Jerusalem; a prophet “without honor” had to find hospitality outside the city.) And so, the next day Jesus wanted to get an early start (v. 18). Having skipped breakfast, he was looking to find fruit on the fig tree. The problem, of course, is that early spring was not the time to find figs on a fig tree (something Mark was obliged to point out; Mark 11:13). Fig trees didn’t bear edible fruit until June (Matt 24:32). The fact that this tree was an early bloomer,23 indicating the possibility that some unripe figs could be found on the tree,24 may have encouraged Jesus to search its leaves for fruit (ironically, the town Jesus passed through on his way to Jerusalem on “Palm Sunday” was Bethphage, meaning, “House of Unripe Figs”;25 Matt 21:1).

It wasn’t a surprise to anyone that Jesus didn’t find figs on the tree. What was surprising to his disciples—and to us as well—was the way Jesus handled the disappointment. He cursed the fig tree, and it died immediately (v. 19). Jesus had never done anything like that before. Multiply bread and fish to feed a hungry crowd? Check. Rebuke a storm kicking up on the Sea of Galilee? Check. But to curse a fig tree because it hasn’t borne any fruit at the wrong time of the year appears a little capricious if not impatient. (In fact, this story sounds a lot like one of the apocryphal stories of when Jesus was a little boy with great powers who couldn’t control his anger. Not very flattering.) So, what we want to know is, “Why did Jesus do it?” Yet this didn’t seem to bother the Twelve. Apparently, all the disciples wanted to know was, “How did the fig tree wither so quickly?” (v. 20). Really? That’s their question? Marveling over the effectiveness of Jesus’s “curse word” that caused the tree to wither immediately—from the same man who could still a storm and raise the dead with his words—that’s what surprised the disciples? We want to know why he did it; the Twelve wanted to know how it happened so quickly—which says more about us than it does about them. Perhaps the reason the disciples didn’t ask “Why?” is because they already knew the answer. In fact, that the Twelve knew why Jesus cursed the fig tree may explain why they were amazed that it happened so fast.

A fruitless fig tree that withers due to divine judgment was a common prophetic symbol of Israel under God’s punishment (Jer 8:13; Hos 2:12; 9:10, 16–17; Mic 7:1–8).26 So, I’m wondering if Jesus’s disciples had connected the dots: fig tree = Jerusalem. In light of the previous day’s events, they would know why Jesus cursed the fig tree. It was a sign of God’s judgment on the city of David. For those who had eyes to see, Jesus was forecasting the destruction of Jerusalem because its citizens did not recognize their king. Jesus had come to the temple and found it full of activity—in full leaf, but he discovered no fruit. This house of prayer that was supposed to draw all nations to Jerusalem to worship God (Isa 56:6–8) had become a den of thieves. So when Jesus cursed the fig tree, he was essentially saying, “The end is near.” Although it looked like Jesus was talking to a tree, he was actually prophesying against Jerusalem and the temple: “May you never bear fruit again!” (Matt 21:19, emphasis added). What surprised the Twelve was how quickly it would happen.27 As fast as a leafy fig tree withering right before their eyes, Jerusalem would fall.

If that is the case—if I’m not assuming too much of the disciples’ ability to comprehend these things—then Jesus kept talking in apocalyptic terms, teaching his disciples that they would be able to move “this mountain” (v. 21, perhaps the Mount of Olives28) just as Zechariah envisioned: “On that day his feet will stand on the Mount of Olives, east of Jerusalem, and the Mount of Olives will be split in two from east to west, forming a great valley” (Zech 14:4).29 Both Isaiah and Micah predicted that mountains would be leveled on the last day: “Look! The LORD is coming from his dwelling place; he comes down and treads on the heights of the earth. The mountains melt beneath him and the valleys split apart. . . . All this is because of Jacob’s transgression, because of the sins of the people of Israel” (Mic 1:3–5); “every mountain and hill [will be] made low. . . . And the glory of the LORD will be revealed and all people will see it together” (Isa 40:4–5). On the other hand, if the disciples were simply amazed at the power of Jesus’s word, then his lesson on faith that moves mountains was intended to dispel doubt (Matt 21:21). If Jesus could cause a tree to wither and die, then his disciples would be able to do even greater things: to speak to a mountain and toss it into the Dead Sea. Either way, whether forecasting the destruction of Jerusalem or encouraging his disciples to “have faith and do not doubt,” Jesus was teaching his disciples that, even without a temple, they would still be able to pray so as to move mountains (v. 22). They wouldn’t need a house of prayer to have faith in God.

images/nec-48-1.jpg LIVE the Story

This is a difficult story to carry into our world because what Jesus did was unique to his situation. If these actions were symbolic demonstrations of his messianic claims—a once-in-a-lifetime display of prophetic intention—then we would be taking the story too far by trying to re-create a nonrepeatable event. Jesus presented himself as the Messiah of God to Jerusalem once. He cleansed a temple that was eventually destroyed. As followers of Jesus, we already affirm that he is Messiah—not only over Jerusalem but the entire world. There is no need to restage the event of Jesus by taking the Holy City for his messianic purpose. He’s already done the job. Besides, there is no temple, no building to cleanse; Christ followers have no official priests offering animal sacrifices as a requirement of worship. Yet that doesn’t stop some of us from assuming the role of Jesus when we think it’s time to “clean house” and “turn over tables” in righteous indignation. Over the years, many holy crusaders have appeared in our ranks, convinced that Jesus was their model when they decided to create a ruckus and challenge leaders over corruption in the church: from raising a stink over fundraisers setting up tables inside the church house to questioning the integrity of all ministers when one has been charged with a serious crime like embezzlement. Many of us like to think that we’re acting like Jesus when we get angry over church matters. After all, since the church is the temple of the Lord and everyone sees that it’s dirty, somebody needs to step up and have the courage to clean the place. Enter the self-appointed prophet with the messiah complex, cracking the whip and running the corrupt people out of the temple. That’s when it’s easy to “follow Jesus.” Pick up a cross and offer yourself as a sacrifice to purify the temple? Not many takers. But to storm the church with holy anger and set everyone straight—that’s when some of us are more than willing to “follow the Messiah.” However, when we throw a righteous fit to purify the church, I don’t think we are acting like Jesus’s disciples at all.

I recently saw a church sign that boasted, “We love our church!” That’s a nice sentiment, but the sign should read, “We love ourselves!” Sometimes we talk about the church as if it were independent of us, as if the church was an organization that exists outside of us. But that’s not the case because we are the church. Whenever we criticize the church, we are criticizing ourselves. Whenever we boast about the church, we are boasting about ourselves. We can’t step outside of church and act like an objective observer, pretending that we’re talking about someone else. So when we crack the whip and try to purify the church as the temple of the Lord, we’d better realize that we can’t do it without submitting to “self-flagellation.” That’s a crude way of putting it, and I’m certainly not suggesting we should torture ourselves to be purified. But if we’re going to “live the story” of Jesus cleansing the temple, we should assume the role of the temple and not the Messiah.30 Just as the fig tree was supposed to be a living parable of God’s people—intended to explain Jesus’s prophetic actions in the temple—perhaps we should also ask: “To what extent are we (the church) like the fig tree?”

What would happen if Jesus were to cleanse our temple and inspect our fig tree?

  1. Fig trees are supposed to produce figs. Disciples are supposed to make disciples. If the church isn’t making converts, then we are not fulfilling our purpose. We might be full of life, green leaves on every branch, activities galore. But if we are not reaching others with the good news of our king, if we are not bearing fruit, then what’s the point of being a fig tree (Luke 13:6–9)?
  2. The temple should be a house of prayer for everyone. But for some people, the church is the last place they come to pray. Prayer at home, prayer outside, prayer alone—many of us pray. Yet to trust the church with our burdens, to share in prayer together, to confess our sins to one another—this is what it means to be a house of prayer. If the church were a people/place where everyone felt comfortable enough (and vulnerable enough) to pray, then we might see our “court of the gentiles” (those on the margins of our community) worshiping God.
  3. So, why don’t we see the court of gentiles filled with people longing to worship God? Perhaps we have created the same barrier: the opportunism of religious commercialism. Making money at the expense of religious devotion is repulsive. Does it ever seem to you like the church is always selling something? There is a lot of money that changes hands in Christian commerce. Every once in a while, I step back and think: “My goodness, the Christian industry is big business.” If Jesus were to visit our churches today, one wonders what tables of commerce he would overturn to purify his temple.
  4. I wonder if we have the same problem Jerusalem had two thousand years ago: we haven’t submitted to Jesus as King. In fact, for those of us in the US, the concept of kingship is an antiquated notion, a throwback to a long-forgotten age. Royalty may fascinate Americans, but we gave up the monarchy a long time ago. That’s how we got our start—defying the crown. We shall have no king. So, when I hear songs like “Worship His Majesty” or “All Hail King Jesus,” the sentiment is lost on me. The kingship of Jesus is an elusive concept, something I don’t relate to. Of course, to switch to a more contemporary metaphor—like referring to Jesus as our “president”—sounds wrong to my reverent ears. So, how are we to make sense of submitting to “King Jesus” when the only examples we have are either royal families who function as national symbols of their countries, or, even worse, fairy tales of kings and kingdoms? We may sing songs about Jesus as King, we may even pay lip service to his monarchy—talk about the “kingdom work”—but have we fully grasped what it should look like to submit to King Jesus? Lost without a context, perhaps a clearer sense of his kingdom will help us understand what it means to honor him as our king.31 Indeed, we need Matthew’s Gospel more than we realize.

“Your Majesty, as we bend our knee to your throne, please refine us with your fiery Spirit so that the nations will gather for prayer as your house, the lame and blind will find healing in your temple, and children will always be free to praise your name in your courts. Let us be your tree of life that bears fruit to the end of the age. May we always have faith to move mountains. This is our prayer because you are the Messiah, our Immanuel, and we are your temple, a kingdom of priests to our God. All hail King Jesus!”

1. N. T. Wright, Jesus and the Victory of God, Christian Origins and the Question of God 2 (Minneapolis: Fortress, 1996), 489–93.

2. “As clothes represent their wearers. . ., their position beneath another’s feet means submission” (Davies and Allison, Matthew, 3:123).

3. Psalm 118 was often recited during Passover (ibid., 3:126).

4. Is this a deliberate echo of Isaiah 1:3? “The ox knows its master, the donkey its owner’s manger, but Israel does not know, my people do not understand.” The proposal is especially intriguing in light of the way Matthew phrases Jesus’s instructions to the owner of the donkey and her colt: “If anyone says anything to you, say that the Lord needs them.” Actually, the phrase ho kyrios autōn chreian echei should be translated, “Their Lord has a need,” referring to Jesus or God as the master of these animals (see Davies and Allison, Matthew, 3:117).

5. France, Matthew, 773.

6. Malina and Rohrbaugh, Synoptic Gospels, 128.

7. See Nicholas Perrin, Jesus the Temple (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2010), 101–4.

8. France, Matthew, 785.

9. Davies and Allison, Matthew, 3:136–37.

10. Josephus, Ant. 17.9.3; War 2.12.1.

11. Turner, Matthew, 501.

12. Keener, Matthew, 497; France, Matthew, 783–84.

13. Keener, Matthew, 500.

14. France, Matthew, 784.

15. See Talbert for a succinct and helpful summary (Matthew, 247–49).

16. Luz, Matthew, 3:12.

17. Garland, Reading Matthew, 216.

18. Ibid.

19. Sanders, Judaism, 61–71.

20. See Perrin, Jesus the Temple, 106–9.

21. Was this an “anti-Davidic” gesture, reversing David’s ban of the lame and blind from his palace after he captured Jerusalem (2 Sam 5:6–8)? Yes, according to Davies and Allison, Matthew, 3:140; probably not, according to Luz, Matthew, 3:13.

22. The blind and lame were excluded from entering the temple (Davies and Allison, Matthew, 3:140; also Garland, Reading Matthew, 216). Nolland questions the ban (Matthew, 846–47); Luz argues they were not excluded (Matthew, 3:13).

23. France, Matthew, 792.

24. Keener, Matthew, 504.

25. Davies and Allison, Matthew, 3:115; Nolland, Matthew, 832.

26. Luz, Matthew, 3:23–24; France, Matthew, 793.

27. Garland, Reading Matthew, 217.

28. Keener, Matthew, 505; Nolland, Matthew, 853.

29. Some commentators think that Jesus was referring to Zion (the temple mount); see Turner, Matthew, 504.

30. For a helpful critique of our default presumption (that we’re always on the side of Jesus), see Mark Allan Powell, What Do They Hear? Bridging the Gap between Pulpit and Pew (Nashville: Abingdon, 2007).

31. To recover the context of the kingdom of Jesus, see McKnight, Kingdom Conspiracy, 43–63.