NOTES for Mat 21:12-20

It cannot be said that temple trade appeared as something bad from the beginning. Within proper limits it is necessary. But how easily we destroy necessary limits... Let us note that when Christ drives out the merchants, He is indignant not because the house of prayer has been turned into a "market," but because it has become a den of robbers. Still, there is a difference between normal trade and robbery, however hard launderers of dirty money may try to erase it. Apparently, the trade and financial activity connected with the use of the temple exceeded economic needs and became an end in itself, drawing people into sinful ways of enrichment.

In every age sinful humanity has more than once brought the fruits of its own imperfection into the Church, and has also yielded to the temptation to use church opportunities for practical purposes. Everything began with good intentions and led to sad results. And yet our bodies too are called temples of the Holy Spirit. And if we defile what has been given to us by the Lord, then again we become worthy of what He did to those who traded in the temple.

The image of Jesus overturning the tables of the money changers, those ancient exchange booths, and the benches of the sellers of doves, the Zion equivalent of a candle kiosk, is so unfamiliar that in the course of life Christians often have to answer puzzled questions: why does He act this way? It sharply contradicts the sugary little face of that religious painting called "the third half of the nineteenth century," but not the real Son of God. Yet indeed the Lord, of whom it is said that He will not break a bruised reed or quench a smoking wick (Isa. 42:3), would seem not to act in such a way.

What Jesus does at this moment is called a prophetic action. As Hosea and Isaiah give symbolic names to their children as witnesses to the fulfillment of prophecies, as Jeremiah buys a field in Anathoth when all Israel is about to be occupied, these are visible images that enter the consciousness of people who do not want to listen, having ears and not hearing. Yet this action of Christ is not a prophecy, but the fulfillment of a prophecy: "Zeal for Your house consumes Me" (Ps. 68:10), says the famous messianic psalm. The evangelist John writes on behalf of the disciples in the second chapter of his Gospel that they understood this action of Jesus precisely in this way: He acts as the Messiah, according to the prophecies, must act.

Frankly speaking, this is indeed a distinguishing sign of the Messiah, because all of us treat social proprieties and stereotypes of pious sweetness with far greater reverence than the holiness of the Almighty. Because He may perhaps forgive us our irreverence, but society will not forgive reproach, just as it did not forgive Jesus.

Many people reading these Gospel lines feel sorry for the fig tree, for it is entirely unclear why it had to be withered. Admittedly, those who are puzzled do not pay attention to the many branches thrown the day before beneath the feet of the donkey on which Jesus entered Jerusalem. This mass of greenery, destined to wither, must surely have exceeded the mass of the fig tree. And that is not even to mention the trees cut down for firewood every day.

Nevertheless, such reasoning certainly does not remove the question: what does the event with the fig tree mean? And how are we to understand the words addressed to the disciples, saying that they will be able to do the same? Are they really to be understood as a call to punish those who displease them? Such a superficial interpretation would contradict all the other Gospel episodes. Elsewhere in the Gospel (Lk 13:6-9) there is a parable about a fig tree that the vine-grower tends to the very end. Here too we have a visible parable. For we are all called to bear fruit, and if this fig tree is condemned, it is not because it is incapable of bearing fruit, but because every possibility of correcting it has been exhausted. Notice that Jesus does not pronounce words of condemnation in anger. He does not hurl a curse, but speaks calmly about reality.

The barren fig tree is an image of what we can bring upon ourselves if we do not share what the Lord has given us. For if we do not want to feed someone or serve one who needs us, we ourselves wither, having refused to draw life-giving strength from the One who gives us all the more, the more we give to others.

Today's reading consists of two parts that at first glance are not directly connected with each other. The first part is the account of the withered fig tree (vv. 18-22); the second gives the conversation of Jesus with the chief priests and elders in the Temple (vv. 23-32). And yet there is a connection between these two events, although it is not immediately obvious.

It is no accident that the account of the withered fig tree ends with a conversation about faith that, according to Jesus, can move mountains (vv. 21-22). Clearly, faith here is not only trust in God and in the One whom God sends into the world, but also a definite spiritual state. And the second part of the passage is devoted precisely to what prevents a person from acquiring and keeping that state.

The conversation with the chief priests and elders begins with the question, already discussed more than once, of who gave Jesus the authority to do what He does (v. 23). Jesus, as had happened before, answers a question with a question: was the washing ("baptism") with which John washed people true or false (v. 25)? Then Jesus' interlocutors begin thinking about how to answer Him (vv. 25-27). But they are clearly concerned not with the truth of John's ministry, but only with the possibility of getting out of a delicate situation without losing face. And in the end, as often happens in such cases, they avoid answering (v. 27).

Then Jesus also refuses to answer their question. There is no game here: in fact, with such an attitude toward the matter, trying to explain anything to these people is truly pointless. They are not interested in truth; their own opinion is more important to them - whatever they may say about spiritual life, purity of faith, and other things of that sort.

The parable Jesus tells about the two sons (vv. 28-32) characterizes the situation as well as possible: one can talk about faith and spiritual life as much as one likes, but if there is no sincere obedience to God's will, all of it is only words. And what prevents obedience is a lack of resolve and inner wholeness.

After all, Jesus' interlocutors cannot be called complete unbelievers. But this is not unconditional faith; it is faith with reservations and allowances. Such faith is worth little. It certainly cannot move mountains. The only thing such faith is good for is serving as self-consolation for those who would like to consider themselves believers without sacrificing anything. But such faith has nothing to do with the Kingdom.

The Lord continues His path to Golgotha, which is already felt in His clashes with the chief priests and elders, in His parables and conversations with the disciples. He entered the city as King. He must either be received by the people as the long-awaited Messiah or perish in a clash with the hypocrisy and rigidity of the leaders and the unfaithfulness of the people, in a struggle with the kingdom of darkness. Where Christ comes, no room for compromise remains. The fig tree that bore no fruit withers; Israel, which did not hear the preaching of John, cannot receive the Savior. More and more clearly it becomes visible that the conflict can end in only one way: the death of the Rebel.

We, together with the Israelites of the beginning of the first century, stand at the very center of these events. Christ enters us, or will yet enter us, in exactly the same way He entered Jerusalem. And He will encounter, or has already encountered, hypocrisy and rigidity in our hearts in exactly the same way. Like them, we are always on the edge of a choice: to kill the Messiah and wither like the fig tree, or to receive Him, hear His word, become as He wants to see us, and so obtain His mercy and the Kingdom.

In this conflict between Christ and the Pharisees, the difference between their understandings of faith is revealed most clearly. The Pharisees demand clear arguments from Jesus: He must show visibly “by what authority” He can take charge in the Temple. This demand amounts to yet another request for proof from God, for a miracle. Instead, Christ confronts them with a fundamental question about faith, using the example of John, who called the people to repentance. At the time, there were people who needed no miraculous proof of John's prophetic mission: they understood in their hearts that his words were right. They were those “tax collectors and prostitutes” (and many others) who were ready to return to God, be reconciled with Him, and begin a life unlike the one they had lived before. But if that readiness is absent, then all that remains is to play at proofs and argue about authority...

The people greet Jesus with joyful cries: "Salvation to the Son of David!" Many of us came to faith with the same joy, meeting Christ for the first time, suddenly realizing that He is truly alive, truly answers prayer, and leads us through life.

But after the enthusiastic cries of greeting come decisive changes: the Lord encounters the complete mismatch between the Temple, the center of Jerusalem's spiritual life, and the purpose for which it was built; the spiritual blindness of the religious leaders; and the unfaithfulness of the people, who are ready to shout both "hosanna" and "crucify Him." He encounters all this also at the "micro level," when He comes into the life of an individual person who, though glad at the Savior's coming, has already managed to turn from a temple of the Holy Spirit into a "den of robbers," and who will prove unfaithful and blind to Him many more times. But, as we know, this is not yet the end of the story...

Into almost every line of this story the evangelist places a parallel with biblical prophecies, and some of them are quoted directly in the text. But almost every quotation is interpreted and understood here in a new way: Jesus becomes the center of all the prophecies and psalms. And this newness is naturally dictated by the course of the events that follow: everything will be fulfilled both as expected and, at the same time, in a way completely different from what the disciples and the people accompanying Jesus expect.

He enters the holy city, but what awaits Him there is not triumph, but execution. He is greeted as King, but He will be condemned as an impostor and criminal. He cleanses the Jerusalem Temple, but soon He Himself will become the new Temple for those who follow Him after His Resurrection.

Christ shows a new way, not at all the one people expect, even His disciples. He will fulfill the prophecies in a new way, in a way that even the wisest of the wise will not think to read them. He does not do what we expect of Him; He calls us to follow Him into His new life, into a new Heaven and a new Earth.

Then as now, passionate message of prophets pulls those who’re able to receive it out of the swamp of common religious convictions and practice. Indeed we tend to make a god for ourselves after our image and likeness. We always know what he should think on this or that subject (and though the Scriptures give a solid base for such assumptions, we somehow never get to notice it being paradoxical and at times allowing more than one interpretation). We're always there to help God judging the living and the dead, and to remind Him of something that He has forgotten to do for us etc. But God is a different person from what we think of Him. While accepting his incarnation we mustn’t deceive ourselves and make him as small-minded, wicked and stupid as we are. He is faithful to himself. He is not there to fulfill our dreams and wishes (which, by the way, are a little too primitive). He is inconceivable. His thoughts are not our thoughts. The only will he fulfills is his own. He always remains the same – no matter whether he is dwelling in the unapproachable light, permeating the creation, or going down the road to Jerusalem.