Introduction
If you have ever visited the Sydney Opera House, or the Louvre in Paris, or the Empire State Building in New York, or the Taj Mahal in Agra, or the Sagrada Familia in Barcelona, or the Burj Khalifa in Dubai, I have no doubt that you will have been impressed by what you witnessed. These are foremost among the world’s most majestic buildings, and they leave their mark on you for their scale, for their grandeur and their beauty.
The temple in Jerusalem, at the time of Christ, was a similarly imposing, impressive, iconic structure. It was in that league. It had a huge wow factor. Built around 530 BC, it was one of the grandest buildings in the world of that day, if not the grandest. It was breathtaking to behold. And it was the historic, beating heart of Israel's life and religious identity.
When Herod the Great redeveloped and expanded it starting in about 20 BC, it became the largest building complex in the ancient world, bar none. People marvelled at it. Its total surface area was about 37 acres, into which you can fit 21 football pitches. The perimeter of the temple contained a covered portico, supported by huge columns 10.5 metres high, and so thick that it took three men joining hands to encircle one of them. And its beauty, oh my! The finest marble, polished ivory, sections overlaid with gold, sumptuous fixtures and fittings, no expense was spared.
The temple consisted of five separate zones; the first and easily the largest was called the Court of the Gentiles; then beyond that, the Court of the Women or Outer Court; then beyond that the Inner Court; then finally, accessible to only a few, a magnificent roofed structure called the Holy Place, separated from the mysterious Holy of Holies behind it by a curtain 18 metres high, 9 metres wide and 10 centimetres thick.
But that first space, the Court of the Gentiles, was set aside for anyone, anyone, to pray and to seek God, and to approach him for the forgiveness of sins. That huge space symbolised the reality that the God of Israel was the God who so loves the whole world.
It was a place where the excluded were included; Jerusalem’s sick and poor and needy and forgotten would hang out there, hundreds of them every day, hoping for a some pity and maybe a bit of spare change from passing pilgrims.
And it is right here, in this sprawling Court of the Gentiles, that the events of Matthew 21.12-17 take place.
Let’s read what it says:
Jesus entered the Temple and began to drive out all the people buying and selling animals for sacrifice. He knocked over the tables of the money changers and the chairs of those selling doves. He said to them, “The Scriptures declare, ‘My Temple will be called a house of prayer,’ but you have turned it into a den of thieves!”
The blind and the lame came to him in the Temple, and he healed them. The leading priests and the teachers of religious law saw these wonderful miracles and heard even the children in the Temple shouting, “Praise God for the Son of David.”
But the leaders were indignant. They asked Jesus, “Do you hear what these children are saying?”
“Yes,” Jesus replied. “Haven’t you ever read the Scriptures? For they say, ‘You have taught children and infants to give you praise.’” Then he returned to Bethany, where he stayed overnight.
Prayer…
Cleansing the temple
So Jesus enters this vast holy site, built for the glory of God, looks around and what does he see? Is it pilgrims coming before the Lord in reverence and prayer? Is it fear and trembling at the beauty of God’s majesty? Is it kneeling and bowing down and raised hands bringing a holy offering of praise? Is it worshippers being still before the Lord as they take in the public reading of scripture? Or incense rising with prayers of intercession?
None of that. Instead, his senses are assaulted by the sights, sounds and smells of a noisy and vulgar marketplace, hundreds of animals and caged birds, their excrement making the place smell like a farmyard. Bleating. Haggling. Chit chat. Flapping wings. Clinking coins. How is anyone supposed to pray in this irreverent environment? Everything you see and hear is wholly inappropriate and out of place.
Worse still, Jesus sees money changers charging excessive exchange rates for the special temple currency required to purchase these sacrificial animals and birds. It cost half a day’s wage just to switch to the authorised currency.
Jesus sees well-heeled livestock merchants profiteering from exorbitant prices. You can, in theory, bring your own lamb or bird, but some corrupt bureaucrat will fail its inspection at the gate, so you have to buy an officially approved one from a certified vendor. It is organised commercial exploitation. It’s an unholy racket on an industrial scale. And this in 30AD is what Israel’s religion has descended to.
So Jesus, grieved in his soul, starts to drive out those who are buying and selling. He overturns the tables of the money changers; coins and keys and account books are flying everywhere.
And he is not finished yet. He pulls over the benches of those selling caged birds. He stops people carrying their merchandise around like it was some sort of religious megastore.
You couldn’t call it a disturbance of the peace, because there’s no peace to disturb. But there is uproar. Jesus’ actions are incendiary and they are intended to be so.
John’s Gospel tells us that Jesus did something strikingly similar to this towards the beginning of his ministry as well. When it comes to riotous disruption and vandalism in this iconic religious setting, Jesus has previous.
But there’s a notable difference between what John and Matthew describe. In John chapter 2, Jesus says, “Stop turning my Father’s house into a market!” But here, it’s worse. In three years, Jesus has downgraded the temple personnel from mere market traders to operators of an organised scam.
“It is written,” he says in v13, with the eyes of everyone fixed on him, “my house shall be called a house of prayer, but you are making it a den of robbers.”
Let me help you understand that phrase in its context. On the winding road from Jericho up to Jerusalem, a road that many of the pilgrims would have trod, including Jesus and his travelling party, there are hidden caves by the roadside. You might remember the parable of the Good Samaritan which is set on that same road. Bandits would hide there in gangs waiting to spring out and mug you. This is what Jesus means by “den of robbers.” He means organised crime.
Jesus is saying that these money changers and temple salesmen are actually in cahoots with each other plotting to spring nasty surprises on unsuspecting pilgrims by ripping them off with inflated prices and hidden fees.
So Jesus is upset not just because this sacred space has been trivialized and repurposed as a cacophonous livestock market. But also because it is now riddled with crooks fleecing worshippers with extortionate hidden costs. It is nowhere near fulfilling its original purpose as a place of prayer. It has not only lost its way, it has lost its soul.
And there is no greater proof of that being the case than what we read in v14-15. In a moment of grace and faith, Jesus brings light into the darkened world of blind beggars, and he lifts the crippled to their feet, and children begin to spontaneously and joyfully shout and sing praise to God. The power of the Holy Spirit is present…
…And the chief priests and teachers of the law see these beautiful, life changing signs and wonders and they hate it. It should solicit awe and admiration from them but because of their hard, religious hearts, v15 says the opposite; they are indignant, it says.
These are the men who should have put a stop to this temple abomination years ago, but they just encourage it. These are the men who should be leading the people in praise and worship when God’s healing power is released, not complaining about it and shutting it down. This scene perfectly demonstrates their catastrophic failure of leadership.
Stephen, the first Christian martyr, in Acts 7, sums it up perfectly by telling these same men, “You always resist the Holy Spirit!” Sadly, there are plenty of clergy in our day who are just as useless as these chief priests. The healing power of God, uninhibited and joyful children, new songs, spontaneous worship in God’s house… they can’t stand it.
And listen, all of us who are involved in whatever sphere of Christian leadership; life group leaders, children’s and youth leaders, worship leaders, pastoral ministers, elders, trustees, Alpha team, ministry leaders of all sorts… if we’re going to resist anything, let it be stagnant, religious, dead works and not the living water of the Holy Spirit. It’s the prayer of my heart; “Lord, don’t let my heart grow cold, set my soul on fire with love for you and for what you want to do.”
And not just leaders, all of us. Do you need to reset this morning? Has your heart begun to grow just a little bit uncomfortable and resistant to any new thing that God wants to do, especially if it ruffles feathers and takes you out of your comfortable routine?
In v17, Matthew just says, “and [Jesus] left them and went out of the city.” Jesus has had quite enough dead religion for one day.
But the next day, Jesus heads back into Jerusalem again and he works a miracle that is totally unlike every other we have so far seen in Matthew's Gospel.
Let’s read on, starting at v18:
In the morning, as Jesus was returning to Jerusalem, he was hungry, and he noticed a fig tree beside the road. He went over to see if there were any figs, but there were only leaves. Then he said to it, “May you never bear fruit again!”
And immediately the fig tree withered up. The disciples were amazed when they saw this and asked, “How did the fig tree wither so quickly?”
Then Jesus told them, “I tell you the truth, if you have faith and don’t doubt, you can do things like this and much more. You can even say to this mountain, ‘May you be lifted up and thrown into the sea,’ and it will happen. You can pray for anything, and if you have faith, you will receive it.”
Cursing the fig tree
Every miracle we have encountered so far in Matthew’s Gospel brings healing from sickness, or relief from oppression, or protection from harm (like the calming of the storm), or abundance of provision (like the miraculous catch and the feeding of the 5,000).
But this one, in stark contrast, appears to bring gratuitous environmental damage and death. It’s the strangest story. This one has gardeners and ecologists and conservationists united in their disapproval.
Jesus is hungry, and seeing by the road a fig tree in leaf, he approaches it, hoping to find figs. But though it is leafy in appearance, giving the impression of fruitfulness, Matthew tells us in v19 that when Jesus inspects it, he finds nothing except leaves. So he then speaks to the tree, saying, “May you never bear fruit again!”
You may well wonder, why are the conduct and attitude of Jesus in these two passages so unlike every previous description of him thus far in our long series in the Gospel of Matthew? First, the angry temple outburst, and now this. It’s bordering on antisocial behaviour.
Jesus curses a fig tree because it is unable in this moment to supply him with a mid-morning snack. This appears sullen, even petulant behaviour. Isn’t it a bit off, we may ask, to make a tree wither to its roots and die simply because it cannot at this time satisfy your hunger?
And it seems to fly in the face of everything we know about Jesus' character from elsewhere in the Gospels. It even appears to bring into question his description of himself in chapter 11 as “humble and gentle at heart.” What are we to make of it?
It will be no surprise to most of you that I am no expert in horticulture. If you are looking for assistance to correctly identify any species of plant; moss, shrub, flower, bush or tree, I am absolutely not your go-to guy. Accordingly, my knowledge of fig trees is about as extensive as my acquaintance with hair products. But I do know this; trees can be emblematic of nations or cultures. We talk for example of English oak, Scots pine, Californian redwood and cedars of Lebanon.
And in just the same way, the fig tree was a symbol of Israel in the Old Testament. Several prophets at different times spoke of the barren fig tree as a picture of God withholding his blessing from the nation.
Jeremiah, for example, prophesied God’s imminent judgement upon Jerusalem around 600 BC saying, “There will be no figs on the tree, and their leaves will wither.” He was saying in effect that God will one day come looking for fruit from you and if he finds nothing but leaves you will wilt and shrivel and die.
With the withering of this tree, Jesus is giving us an unforgettable visual aid for what just happened the previous day in the temple.
This fig tree, you see, just like the temple, looks promising from a distance. But a closer examination of both leads only to frustration and disappointment. The fig tree is unfruitful and barren; it’s all leaves and no fruit. Just as the temple is ungodly and hollow; it’s all show and no substance. The one is a visual commentary on the other.
This is, you may be interested to know, the last miracle Jesus ever does in Matthew’s Gospel. That is significant. No one will eat from that tree ever again. It’s over. And Jesus is saying here, just days before the cross, that God is done with the temple. His verdict on useless religion is final.
40 years later, in 70 AD, this magnificent temple will be razed to the ground, never to be rebuilt, and all that remains of it today is a small section we call the Wailing Wall.
Are you troubled about the death of this tree? Does it disturb you a bit that Jesus isn't appropriately concerned about the environment? Is this miracle offensive to you in any way? Then I invite you to consider the alternative view that Jesus actually honoured this fig tree, making it spiritually one of the most fruitful trees that ever grew.
This a tree from which many, over centuries, have learned something about themselves, about their hard heart, about their lives being all show and no fruit, about God’s displeasure with useless religion. This tree has led thousands of sinners to repent and turn back to the living God.
In Revelation 2 and 3, Jesus walks among churches, looking for fruit. He might well find busyness and activity and projects and meetings and a nice building, but that is not at the heart of what he is looking for.
He is looking for faith. He is looking for prayer. He is looking for worship and true worshippers. He is looking for love.
Michael Green, in his commentary, says this; “God is no more bound to Christian churches with a long pedigree than he was to Israel with an even longer one. If there is no fruit (in prayerfulness, in evangelism, in love and ministry to the community), God will judge such churches and they will die.”
Phil Moore says the same thing another way; “Looking back on history,” he says, “it is easy to see that those congregations that have remained obedient to God’s word have tended to grow and expand while those that show… selective commitment to scripture… have tended to be cursed with a famine of converts, dwindling congregations and eventually closure.”
I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again; there is no example anywhere in the Bible of Satan closing churches. He has no authority to do so. Jesus is building his church, and the gates of hell shall not prevail, shall not stand, against her advance. Only Jesus closes churches, and if a church rebels against his word it is only a matter of time before he will.
God deliver us from exchanging the eternal truth of his word for a lie. The day we do is the day we set King’s Church Darlington on a path of relentless decline into irrelevance.
Ending
As I end, I want to just underline again that this withered tree, drooping and limp - just picture it - is a vivid image of God’s settled decision to bring the temple to an end. God’s intention was that this magnificent structure should be a bridge between heaven and earth. A place where sinners find forgiveness. Now, there is only one bridge between heaven and earth, and it’s his incomparably more magnificent Son, Jesus. He is the new temple.
But this passage also supplies us with an undeniable proof of the power and authority of Jesus' words.
He speaks and it comes to pass. He says, “let there be light” and stars and galaxies burst into life for all things, the Bible says, were created by him and for him. He gives the word and a centurion’s servant is instantly healed. He calls out, “Lazarus, come forth” and a man, four days dead, emerges from his tomb breathing and walking. He says, “may no one ever eat your fruit again” and a fruitless fig tree, nothing but leaves, withers to its roots.
We sometimes sing, “These are the days of Elijah, declaring the word of the Lord.”
So I say, in the name of Jesus, you despairing ones, lift your heads for the Lord, the mighty one, is with you.
You who are plagued by doubts, open your heart and receive a gift of faith, the assurance of things hoped for.
You sick, be healed today; Jesus Christ is the same yesterday, today and forever and he has authority over every disease and sickness.
You broken-hearted, listen; there is a new day; the old has gone, the new has come, today is a day of hope and renewal for you.
Let’s stand to pray...
Sermon preached at King's Church Darlington, 3 November 2024.
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