The Book of Mark

Word Study

"Hosanna," Greek hosanna (ὡσαννά), from the Hebrew hoshiah-na. The cry comes from Psalm 118:25-26 and means "Save now!" or "Save, we pray." It was both a plea for salvation and a shout of praise to the coming Deliverer. The crowds join it to "Blessed is he that cometh in the name of the Lord" and "the kingdom of our father David," welcoming Jesus as the promised Messianic King who comes to save. The word that begins as a prayer for rescue is fittingly addressed to the very One who came "to give his life a ransom for many."

Explanation

Jesus stages His entry into Jerusalem with deliberate care, sending for a colt "whereon never man sat" and riding in as Zechariah's promised King, meek and lowly. The crowds spread garments and branches, shouting "Hosanna... Blessed is he that cometh in the name of the Lord." It is a royal welcome, yet Mark ends the scene quietly: Jesus enters the temple, "looked round about upon all things," and, the hour being late, withdraws to Bethany. The King has come to His city and His house, surveying it with the eye of a judge -- and tomorrow He will act.

Gospel Focus

This is the King's deliberate, public presentation of Himself to Jerusalem. For most of His ministry Jesus had quieted talk of His Messiahship; now, days before the cross, He openly comes as her King, and does it exactly as the prophets foretold, riding not a war-horse but a lowly "colt... whereon never man sat," a fitting mount for the Prince of Peace. Notice His quiet, sovereign authority even here: "the Lord hath need of him," and it is provided. The crowds sense the moment and pour out their welcome with garments and branches, crying "Hosanna; Blessed is he that cometh in the name of the Lord." Their words are truer than they know: this is indeed the Messiah, the Saviour come in the LORD's name. Yet how shallow much of the crowd's praise would prove, for within the week many of the same voices would cry "Crucify him." Here is the paradox of His kingship: true majesty in perfect meekness, a King who comes not to conquer with the sword but to save by the cross. And notice how the day ends: "Jesus entered into Jerusalem, and into the temple: and when he had looked round about upon all things," He quietly surveyed His Father's house, and withdrew. The King has come to His temple, and He sees everything, a hint of the cleansing to come the next day. The scene calls us to a Hosanna that lasts: to welcome Jesus not merely as a passing wonder or a moment's excitement, but as the meek and saving King, and to keep crying "Blessed is he that cometh in the name of the Lord" all the way to His cross and beyond.

Word Study

"the house of prayer," Greek oikos proseuches (οἶκος προσευχῆς). Jesus quotes Isaiah 56:7, and Mark alone preserves the full phrase, "the house of prayer" for "all nations." God's house was meant to be a place of prayer and communion where even the Gentiles might seek Him, but the temple traffic, set up in the court of the Gentiles, had crowded out that very purpose, turning a house of prayer into "a den of thieves," echoing Jeremiah's rebuke of the temple (Jeremiah 7:11). His zeal for His Father's house exposes how easily religion's machinery can smother its heart, and He claims the temple as "my house", the Son cleansing His own Father's dwelling.

Explanation

Mark wraps the temple cleansing inside the story of the fig tree, and the sandwich is the interpretation. Jesus curses a leafy but fruitless fig tree, then enters the temple -- all impressive foliage, no fruit -- and drives out the merchants who have made "the house of prayer for all nations" a "den of thieves." The barren tree is the barren temple; both bear the sign of coming judgment. Israel's religion had leaves in abundance and no fruit for God, and the Lord of the temple pronounces its doom by a withered tree and an overturned table.

But what of the puzzling line, "for the time of figs was not yet"? Far from making the cursing seem arbitrary, it is the very point. On a fig tree the early fruit swells with, and even before, the leaves; a tree in full leaf is advertising that fruit is already there to be found. The main harvest was indeed still off, but this tree, uniquely in leaf ahead of its fellows, made a promise its empty branches could not keep. Jesus did not curse it for lacking a crop out of season; He judged it for its leaves -- for making a show of fruit it did not have. That is exactly Israel's sin, and ours whenever profession outruns life: all the foliage of religion, and nothing underneath for a hungry God to eat.

Gospel Focus

Mark wraps the cleansing of the temple inside the story of the fig tree, so that each interprets the other. On the way into the city Jesus, hungry, comes to a fig tree "having leaves" but finds "nothing but leaves." In leaf, the tree advertised fruit it did not have; so Israel, and every religion of outward show, made a great display of piety while bearing no fruit for God. Jesus curses its fruitlessness, "No man eat fruit of thee hereafter for ever", a solemn acted parable. Then He enters the temple and finds the same disease: a great show of religion with no true fruit, turned into a marketplace. He drives out the merchants and moneychangers and declares from the prophets, "My house shall be called of all nations the house of prayer; but ye have made it a den of thieves." His anger is holy: it burns not against sinners seeking mercy but against those who exploited the worship of God for gain and, by cluttering the court of the Gentiles with their trade, blocked the nations from prayer. Note the phrase Mark preserves, "of all nations", God's house was always meant to be a place where the whole world could come to Him, a purpose the merchants had trampled. The fig tree and the temple together deliver one message: God looks past the leaves of profession for the fruit of a changed life, and He will not accept a religion of empty show. It is a searching word to every church and every heart. Are we all leaves and no fruit, all religious machinery and no real prayer? Let the Lord cleanse the temple of your heart, and bear fruit, not leaves only; and let His house be, in you, a house of prayer.

Word Study

"Have faith in God," Greek echete pistin theou (ἔχετε πίστιν θεοῦ). The phrase is literally "have the faith of God," that is, faith that rests on God, that takes hold of His power and promise. When the disciples marvel at the withered tree, Jesus points them not to their own words but to the object of true faith: God Himself. The mountain-moving power is not in the strength of our believing as a force in itself, but in the God in whom we believe. Prayer that "shall not doubt" and forgives freely is prayer that truly rests on the character and promise of God.

Explanation

The next morning the fig tree is "dried up from the roots," and Jesus turns the withering into a lesson on believing prayer -- faith that does not doubt can move mountains -- joined to a warning that unforgiveness blocks our own forgiveness. When the chief priests demand to know by what authority He acts, He answers with a question about John's baptism that traps them: unwilling to say "from heaven" or "of men," they plead ignorance, and He refuses to tell them. Those who will not deal honestly with the light they have are given no more. The authority they cannot name is the authority of God Himself.

Gospel Focus

The next morning the fig tree is "dried up from the roots," and Peter marvels. Jesus turns the sign into a lesson about prayer: "Have faith in God." The same power that withered the tree is available to believing prayer, so that even "this mountain," some great, immovable obstacle, may be removed if one "shall not doubt in his heart, but shall believe." "What things soever ye desire, when ye pray, believe that ye receive them, and ye shall have them." This is a stirring promise, and it must be held as Scripture holds it: such faith is faith in God, praying according to His will and character, not a magic formula to bend God to our wishes. The point is confident trust in the God who hears and answers. And Jesus attaches to it a searching condition: "when ye stand praying, forgive, if ye have ought against any: that your Father also which is in heaven may forgive you." Believing prayer and a forgiving heart go together. An unforgiving spirit chokes prayer at its root; we cannot ask the Father for mercy while withholding mercy from our brother. Then the rulers confront Him about His authority to cleanse the temple: "By what authority doest thou these things?" Rather than answer directly, Jesus exposes their bad faith with a counter-question about John the Baptist: "was it from heaven, or of men?" They are trapped. If "from heaven," they condemn their own unbelief; if "of men," they fear the people. So they lie: "We cannot tell." Their problem was never lack of evidence but an unwilling heart, and men who will not act on the truth they already know forfeit the right to more. The chapter thus binds together believing, forgiving prayer and the honest heart that submits to the truth. Have faith in God, forgive freely, and do not, like the rulers, refuse the truth you already know.