When Anger Is A Good Thing

Mark 11:12-33

We have tamed Jesus. In the small group teaching video for his book The Jesus I Never Knew, author Phillip Yancey says this: “As I studied the life of Christ, one impression about Jesus struck me more forcefully than any other. We have tamed him. The Jesus I learned about as a child was sweet and inoffensive, the kind of person whose lap you’d want to climb on. Mister Rogers with a beard. Indeed, Jesus did have qualities of gentleness and compassion that attracted little children. Mister Rogers, however, he assuredly was not. Not even the Romans would have crucified Mister Rogers.”[i]

As we continue our journey through Mark’s gospel, we find Jesus, over the course of two days, doing things that cause our collective jaws to drop. As we’ve walked through the first ten chapters of Mark, we’ve grown accustomed to the compassion and gentleness of Jesus. We’ve seen him heal the blind and deaf and mute and lame. We’ve seen him touch and heal lepers. We’ve seen him deliver people who were possessed by demons.

We’ve watched as he talked with and even ate with poor prostitutes and wealthy tax collectors, neither of whom was welcome at the table of a good Jewish family. We’ve seen him comfort those who were afraid, and have compassion on those who were hungry. Yes, his teaching has at times caused problems, and even caused people to get angry with him or reject him. But it has all been done in the context of a ministry of compassion and healing.

Until today. Today, Jesus picks a fight. Today, Jesus does something – actually two somethings – that cause us to wonder if he got up on the wrong side of the bed or had the mother of all headaches that day. Today, Jesus does something that has stumped and offended scholars for almost the entirety of the time between his crucifixion and today. Today, we find Jesus seemingly in a really bad mood. In fact, the actions of Jesus that we’re looking at today are the reason he was crucified. Yes, ultimately Jesus was crucified in our place so that our sin could be forgiven, and it was God’s plan from the moment sin entered the world to reveal his love and forgiveness in that way. But the religious leaders needed a reason to ask Rome to crucify him, and the Romans needed a legitimate reason to crucify him. Today Jesus gives them that reason.

The day after he entered Jerusalem riding on a donkey, Jesus goes to the temple and makes a scene. But that temple scene is bracketed in the text by a weird miracle involving a fig tree. What we have to understand is that the two are inextricably linked. Turn with me to Mark 11:12-33. We’ll start by looking at Vv. 12-14.

This little episode, by itself, makes absolutely no sense. Jesus and his disciples are staying in Bethany, about two miles outside Jerusalem. They’re probably staying in the home of his very close friends – sisters Mary and Martha and their brother Lazarus. And Jesus seems to have gotten them up and on the road early, because on the roughly 40 minute walk to Jerusalem Jesus gets hungry. They seem to have left before breakfast. But as he’s walking, feeling hungry, he spots a fig tree off in the distance. It’s fully leaved out, but this isn’t the season for figs. It’s too early in the year for the tree to have produced its fruit yet. Jesus goes to look anyway. And no surprise, he doesn’t find any figs on the tree. Why would he? It isn’t the time of year when he could expect to find any.

And that’s when things take a weird turn. People in that day lived pretty close to the land, even those who lived in the city. They might not all have been farmers, but they knew the basics of fruit production. In a way that’s similar to life around here. Even those of us who don’t grow cherries know very well that cherries are usually ready for harvest in mid to late July. That apples are ready for harvest mostly in September. We just kind of know that, right? And most of us are far more removed from the land, so to speak, that even the citiest of city people was back then.

So no surprise, Jesus doesn’t find figs on a fig tree because its too early in the year. And that begs the question – why in the world did Jesus get mad at the tree and curse it? I mean, how hungry was he, anyway? Was he hangry? Before his ministry started he did a 40 day fast in the wilderness. Sure, that was a one time deal, but he often fasted and prayed for briefer periods of time. Missing breakfast wasn’t that big a deal to him. Did he have a headache? Had he forgotten who he was?

I mean, the tree wasn’t doing anything wrong. It hadn’t dropped a branch on him. And it wasn’t supposed to have any fruit on it now anyway. Not by a long shot. And Jesus knew that. The tree was behaving exactly as God had created it to behave. So why curse it? Mark himself forces us to ask that question, because the best way to read the phrase “it was not the season for figs,” is something along the lines of “And the significant thing about Jesus cursing the tree is that is wasn’t even the season for figs!”

Or was Jesus really not mad at the tree? Was he helping his disciples to understand what he was about to do when they got to the temple in Jerusalem? You see, the fig tree was, in the Old Testament and especially for the prophets, a symbol for the people of God. God, through the prophet Hosea, said, “Like grapes in the wilderness, I found Israel. Like the first fruit on the fig tree in its first season, I saw your fathers (Hos. 9:10). And in Joel 1:7 we read, “It has laid waste my vine and splintered my fig tree; it has stripped off their bark and thrown it down; their branches are made white.” God often referred to Israel as his fig tree. And the condition of the tree was symbolic of the state of Israel’s relationship with God.

So Jesus speaks a curse over this particular, fruitless fig tree – “May no one ever eat fruit from you again.” And then they head on into Jerusalem. What happened next, at the temple, explains what was going on with the fig tree. And what happened with the fig tree explains what was happening in the temple. Look at the next paragraph in Mark 11 (Vv. 15-19).

This all happened in the court of the Gentiles. It was the outermost court of the temple, and was separated from the next court by a massive wall. It was where Gentiles who wanted to pray to God but who had not yet converted fully to Judaism were supposed to come and pray. In time, a market was set up there where people could purchase the items they needed for whatever sacrifices they were going to offer. And at this time of year, they also set up a few stations where people could exchange money.

You see, Jews were required by Old Testament law to pay the temple tax – a tax on each male in each family that went to support the activities of the temple – using what was known as the sanctuary shekel. In the Old Testament, the sanctuary shekel was the base for Israel’s entire system of currency. The problem was that in Jesus’ day it no longer existed. People used primarily Roman currency to conduct their business. But Herod did have a new shekel minted that they were to use to pay the temple tax. And because the value of coins in that day was actually in the metal that the coins were made out of, Jews could exchange Roman currency for this new version of the sanctuary shekel to pay their temple tax.

And even though the stalls for buying items for sacrifice – wine, oil, salt, doves, right up to cattle, were in the court of the Gentiles, they didn’t take up that much space. And the moneychanger tables were temporary, only set up at this time of the year so people could pay their tax. Both were necessary. Archeologists say that the court of the Gentiles could hold as many as 75,000 people, so unless the Jews built the largest mall humanity has ever built in there, they weren’t taking up all that much space. And Jesus didn’t just throw out the sellers. He threw out buyers and sellers.

Was he really that upset about some tables in the court of the Gentiles that would be set up again the next day, or was something else happening here? Look at what Jesus is actually recorded as saying. He quotes two Old Testament prophets, first Isaiah and then Jeremiah. You see, the temple was never intended to be a national shrine for Israel. It was intended to be a house of prayer for all people. But over time, the temple had become a nationalistic symbol that separated Israel from everyone else and kept everyone else away. Throughout his ministry, Jesus had been gathering the throwaways to himself – the sick, the impure, the unsavory, the dropouts. The kingdom of God has always been about getting people TO God, not keeping them away FROM God. Yes, there were restrictions designed to remind the people of the holiness and righteousness of God, but that was supposed to emphasize God’s holiness and humanity’s sinfulness and need for forgiveness. Instead, it had become a highly defined and controlled system designed to let only those deemed worthy in, while keeping everyone else out.

Yes, the people were being robbed. The temple had become a den of thieves. But the thievery wasn’t happening IN the temple. It was happening everywhere. It was happening as religious leaders measured people’s steps to make sure no one worked on the sabbath; as they avoided Samaritan territory at all costs, refusing even to associate with them; as they offered all the right sacrifices but didn’t show mercy to people in need.

Jesus wasn’t mad about a few tables in the court of the Gentiles. He was mad at barriers and the ever increasing moral burdens being placed on people to be perfect or stay away. He was mad at what the temple itself had come to represent. A far cry from a house of prayer for all peoples, it had become a den for thieves and bandits who preyed on the people and then retreated to the safety of the temple walls. It was the temple itself and everything it had come to represent that Jesus was pronouncing judgment over. His actions were symbolic of the coming destruction of the temple.

Look at Vv. 20-21. The next day, as they head back into Jerusalem from Bethany, they pass the same tree. And Peter notices that the tree Jesus had cursed the day before was now fully dead. Dead at the roots. Now, in the natural course of things, no tree dies overnight. But this one did. So what’s going on here, and what does this have to do with the temple?

Remember, fig trees were often symbolic of the people of God. Jesus was saying, I look at you, and I don’t see any fruit. You look good on the outside. You look like there is fruit on you, but beneath the green leaves there is nothing. And just as Jesus had pronounced judgment on the tree for not producing fruit, so God was pronouncing judgment on the entire religious system the temple represented because it had failed to produce fruit. Instead of drawing people to God, people were being pushed away from God. And God was done with that. Jesus WAS angry. He was angry at the barriers to God that had been systematically put in place, robbing people of a relationship with God and keeping Israel from her God-appointed role as a beacon, an invitation to worship God, to the nations.

But something else was coming. Look at Vv. 22-25. So Jesus has gone from two displays of anger to what appears to be a random and haphazard Clif’s Notes version of the sermon on the mount. Except that he’s very intentional in what he says here. What’s he doing? He’s describing the kingdom of God that would be established in his coming death and resurrection. He was painting a picture of a new order of things. A new way of being in relationship with God and of being the people of God.

It is a kingdom based on faith in God, that overcomes seemingly insurmountable obstacles, that is sustained not by perfection but by grace, and that is marked by forgiveness. Citizenship in God’s kingdom requires us to place our faith in him, to trust him, and not ourselves. We trust that God is who God has revealed himself to be. That Jesus IS God’s revelation of himself, of his character and purpose, to us. We trust that Jesus lived in this world to reveal what life in God’s kingdom is really supposed to be like, and that Jesus then died and rose again to make life in God’s kingdom possible for us.

And as that faith, that trust, takes root in our hearts and minds, we begin to see with God’s eyes rather than our own. Jesus’ statement that with faith, we can speak to a mountain and it will be thrown into a sea aren’t some kind of magical proverb we are supposed to quote or remember when life gets tough. Jesus wasn’t speaking in generalities here. He didn’t say “a mountain.” He said, “This mountain.” The temple mount. He was again speaking about the destruction of the temple, and more importantly, of everything it had come to represent – insurmountable barriers to God. We want to come, and then keep everyone else, those who aren’t like us, away.

I’m sure that Galilean fishermen like Peter, Andrew, James, and John didn’t appreciate having a tax collector like Matthew with them as one of Jesus’ disciples. I’m sure that a zealot like Simon didn’t like having a former prostitute who had been possessed by a demon like Mary Magdalene following Jesus. I’m sure that some of Jesus’ disciples didn’t like having a Pharisee like Nicodemus lurking around, asking honest questions, really trying to understand. I’m sure that none of them liked it when Jesus talked to a Samaritan woman or healed a Roman soldier’s servant.

We love to erect barriers. Barriers between men and women, rich and poor, young and old. Barriers between ethnicities and races. Why? Because empathy and seeking to understand the world through the eyes of someone so different from us is hard work. We want to create barriers. Jesus wants to utterly destroy them. But sometimes, that seems like an insurmountable task.

In Christ, God has built a kingdom based not on performance and perfection but on grace. We want to earn what we have. To deserve it. But God’s kingdom isn’t built that way. God’s kingdom is built on grace. Jesus said, “Therefore, I tell you, whatever you ask in prayer, believe that you have received it, and it will be yours.” Those aren’t magic words or a guarantee that everything we pray for will happen. Jesus isn’t saying that he is our “genie in a bottle,” ready to grant whatever we ask.

He’s saying that as citizens of God’s kingdom, the only limit to what we can accomplish through prayer is the sovereignty of God itself. We cannot, in prayer, dethrone God. When God says “No” or “Wait,” it is because God has another purpose that we do not in the moment understand. But God’s kingdom IS a kingdom built on the grace of God. Anyone can pray. Not just the worthy. Not just the deserving. Not just the good enough. Not just those who have earned good standing with God. Anyone.

And as citizens of God’s kingdom, we are marked by forgiveness. Love made visible in willing forgiveness is the mark of a follower of Christ. We are recipients of forgiveness. Therefore, we offer forgiveness to others. And unforgiving spirit is evidence that we are not fully living as citizens of God’s kingdom.

In Christ, God has torn down barriers. Barriers that rob people of him. Of his grace and mercy. And in place of the barriers he has established a kingdom born in faith that overcomes barriers, that is sustained by grace, and that is marked by forgiveness. Forgiveness received, and then forgiveness offered.

That is the fruit God is looking for. Will he find it in us? Let’s pray.

[i] Philip Yancey, from the video The Jesus I Never Knew