Evendays

Mark 11:11ff brings us the quick, action parable of Jesus cursing a fig tree that was naturally unable to give fruit. The riding-on-a-donkey King, the one who comes “in peace”, then goes to the temple and turns over tables and chairs, chases out sellers AND buyers, merchants and worshippers, and forbids city-dwellers to cross the sacred ground with their wares.

When the disciples come across the fig tree the following day, it’s ready to be cut down for the fire. Jesus then tells them to put their faith in God.

A couple of thoughts:

• Judean Kings would sometimes do what Jesus did. Good King Hezekiah cleaned out a temple full of idols. Jesus used his prerogative as blessed king to “whip” away, if but temporarily, the rottenness of first century Judaism.

• The judgment of the fig tree becomes a judgment of sterile religion, maybe even of sterile worship. There are echoes of O.T. prophets in the air:

When I saw your fathers,
       it was like seeing the early fruit on the fig tree.
       But when they came to Baal Peor,
       they consecrated themselves to that shameful idol
       and became as vile as the thing they loved (Hosea 9.10).

So how much of a “prophet” should the preacher be when he teaches from this text?

Just wondering…

Familiarity can kill faith. Hold it. Let’s try again. Expectations that have not been formed by God can kill faith.

Jesus goes to mom’s for the weekend and heads to the synagogue on Saturday. Mark tells us there’s a big crowd come to hear the Rabbi.

They are surprised. “Where did he get his wisdom? Where does his power come from?” Then, murmured truths smother their astonishment. Ungodly expectations undermine the plan of God.

“He’s the carpenter! He’s Mary’s son. We know his brothers. We’ve seen his sisters grow up…”

Behind the statements of truth is the prideful rejection of the humble servant and the heart-breaking fact that if they could not accept this elementary humbleness, they could never accept a bleeding, crushed, hanged-on-the-tree Messiah.

Mark is addressing a weary church, Christians familiar with the story they’d heard a 1000 times. He’s not fighting unbelief, but rather bland, sterile, already-been-there belief.

As teachers, Mark surprises us, for the evangelist does not meet our expectations. ("Tell us something new, Preacher! Put a new spin on it.") Rather, he recounts the “Beginning of the Gospel of… the Son of God.” He reforms expectations by retelling the story with conviction that expectant faith in the Servant will, once again, take hold of the children of God.