NOTES for Mat 21:23-27

We are used to thinking that the more power a person has, the more significant his role in society, the more he must be concerned about what others will think of him. In the modern world this is called by the fine word "image," that is, translated from English, "appearance" or "representation." The word may be new, but the problem of choosing the right strategy for building an image was clearly relevant two thousand years ago as well. The chief priests are in a difficult position: either recognize John as a prophet and thereby, as people now say, disavow all their previous statements, or once again say aloud something that would most likely lower their standing sharply.

And that is precisely why Jesus refuses to continue the conversation with the Pharisees. It is pointless. They cannot even honestly say what they really think. A terrible paradox: the creature is speaking with the Creator, but is concerned only with its own image, not with remaining the image of God.

The forefather Jacob was not afraid to wrestle with God and received a blessing, but fear and self-absorption block us from God. What path do we choose?

The Lord permits no evasions by which we might avoid openly and directly professing our faith and our position in life concerning one question or another. Yet we are more inclined to wait for signs from Him, trying to escape responsibility, for if we act or speak in whatever way suits us, all our falsehood will become evident. The elders likewise try to force Jesus Himself to answer His own question about John, secretly hoping to catch Him in something. “We do not know” is a very convenient position; in saying this, the elders continue to wait for some sign from Christ. Perhaps He will say that John's baptism was from God, and then they can accuse Him of being a self-appointed impostor. Perhaps He will condemn John, and then they can find common ground with Him. Christ is speaking with the elders and scribes, but they are not speaking with Him: they are neither communicating nor conversing with Him, but trying to “resolve the problem.” The Lord, however, does not allow this. With Him, only direct and open dialogue is possible.

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 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.

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.