And passing by early in the morning they saw the fig-tree dried up from the roots.
The next morning the disciples take the same road to Jerusalem. They see what the Lord's word of the day before had done: a tree not just wilting, but dead to its roots. Two questions follow. Why did the One who healed and fed people curse a tree? And what were the disciples meant to learn?
The tree was not judged for failing out of season. Its own growth pattern explains why.
A fig tree grows its fruit before its leaves. So where there were leaves, there should have been fruit on the fig tree the Lord cursed, even though the usual fig season had not come. This pictured Israel. Scripture had compared Israel to a fig tree bearing its first-ripe figs, Hosea 9:10. But in the days of the Lord, Israel had plenty of leaves. The nation claimed to be God's favoured people, yet it produced no real fruit for Him. Luke 13:6-7. As a nation in the flesh, no fruit will ever be found on it.
The detail Mark records is the direction the death travelled.
Coming into the city the next morning, they saw the fig tree the Lord had spoken to, dried up from the roots. The blight that had fallen on it worked against nature, which would have withered the tree from the top downwards. This showed it to be an act of God. Peter was struck by it and pointed it out, and so invited the Lord to comment on what had happened.
Every other work of Jesus gave something away. This one took something away, and commentators treat that oddity as the key to its meaning.
It is important to notice that here the Lord's miracles are not only a sign and proof of power. They also show the goodness that was acting in divine power. This is what gives the true divine character to the miracles of Jesus. All His works are the fruit of love, and they bear witness to the God of love on the earth. There is only one apparent exception, and even that proves the point. The exception is the cursing of the fig tree. But this was a picture of the people Israel, and you may say of human nature too, under God's cultivation, which produced no fruit — only leaves, that is, hypocrisy.
If the sentence was "never again," does Israel have any future?
Does this mean that Israel can never be restored? No, it does not. A tree may die, and in that first state it never bears fruit again. Yet "there is hope for a tree, if it is cut down, that it will sprout again, and that its shoots will not cease; though its root grows old in the earth, and its stump dies in the ground" (Job 14:7-8). Israel will rise again, in a different state from the one that brought her to ruin. This will truly be "life from the dead" (Romans 11:15).
Peter's remark draws out the Lord's lesson. The mountain thrown into the sea points to the nation the fig tree pictured.
The fig tree stood for the people in their religious show, now plainly empty, and judged by Him whose right it was and still is. So "this mountain" seems to mean their "place and nation," which in their unbelief they fought hard to keep under Roman protection. ("We have no king but Caesar.") It looked strong in Jewish eyes. But before the faith of the disciples it was doomed.
The lesson was practical. A few fishermen faced the whole religious establishment.
On the surface, those who opposed the Lord and His teaching held all the power and authority of the established order. How then were a few poor fishermen to stand against the wisdom and power of men in high places? The Lord's answer is, "Have faith in God." All the power of the people pictured by the barren fig tree would vanish before the power of God used by faith… though the mountain would be removed, God would remain, the unfailing resource for faith.
The Lord ties this confidence to one thing in the one who prays.
Believing prayer! What results may come from it! What mighty deeds may be accomplished! A mountain removed, and the heart realises the power of faith. But such prayer can only come from someone at peace with those who have offended him. There must be a forgiving spirit before the prayer of faith can be presented to God.
- Root cause. Leaves without figs made a false promise. The tree, and the nation it pictured, offered fruit it did not have.
- Root judgment. The death spread up from the roots, against nature. That marked the withering as God's own act, not decay.
- Root exception. Every other miracle of Jesus did good. This one act of judgment fell on a religion of leaves without fruit.
- Root revived. The tree in its old state bears nothing again, yet writers point to a future for Israel that is "life from the dead."
- Root of power. Faith in God topples what looks immovable. But the heart that prays must first forgive.
And Peter, remembering [what Jesus had said], says to him, Rabbi, see, the fig-tree which thou cursedst is dried up.
A day later Peter walks the same road and sees the tree the Lord had spoken to, dead from the roots up. Why did a withered plant shock him, and why did the Lord answer his remark with a lesson about faith?
The tree withered overnight because Jesus had spoken. One writer asks whether that should have surprised Peter at all:
Next morning, as the Lord and His disciples passed the spot again, they saw the fig tree dried up from the roots. But should this have surprised the apostle? Was there not power in the words of Jesus for even greater wonders still? For the voice that cursed the fruitless fig tree was the same voice that ages before said, "Let there be light," and there was light (Gen. 1:3).
Mark notes which way the withering ran. That detail shows whose hand was in it:
The blight that fell on the tree worked in a way that was contrary to nature. Nature would have withered it from the top downwards. This fact showed it to be an act of God. Peter was struck by it and pointed it out, and so he invited the Lord to comment on what had happened.
The judgment looks harsh until you know how a fig grows. Fruit comes first, leaves afterward:
The fruit comes before the leaves. So where there were leaves, there should have been fruit on the fig tree the Lord cursed, even though the usual fig season had not arrived. This was a picture of Israel... but in the days of the Lord, Israel had plenty of leaves. The people claimed to be the nation God favoured, yet they produced no real fruit for Him.
Every other work of Jesus was a work of love. This one looks like the exception, and one writer explains why it is not:
All His works are the fruit of love, and bear witness to the God of love upon the earth. There is only one apparent exception... the cursing of the fig tree. But the tree stood for the people of Israel, and you could say for human nature too. God cultivated it, and it bore no fruit. There were only leaves, that is, hypocrisy. So He judged and condemned it, and it will never bear fruit again... Man must be born again — must be created again in Christ Jesus.
Peter addresses Him as "Rabbi." Here is what that word meant to the people who used it:
A title of respect among the Jews, signifying "master, teacher"... People applied it to the Lord too, though the King James Version often translates it as "master."
Peter asked no question. But the Lord's answer to Simon (Peter's other name) shows how He heard him:
Peter's remark was not put in the form of a question, but it seems to have had much of a question about it. We gather this from the Lord's reply. Simon only said, "The fig tree that You cursed has withered!" Yet the Lord took His servant's remark to mean, "Lord, what is the lesson we are to learn from this remarkable act of judgment?"
The answer aims at what the disciples had been leaning on:
They tended to put their faith in things they could see: in the system of law given through Moses, in the temple, in themselves as a people, or in their priests and leaders. We have exactly the same tendency... all such things fail, but God remains. He is faithful, and He remains as the Object of faith when a curse falls upon our cherished little fig tree. The word is literally, "Have the faith of God." It is as though the Lord says to us, "Hold on to the faithfulness of God, no matter what may wither up and disappear."
The Lord goes on to speak of moving "this mountain." One writer asks what that mountain stood for, and what must go with faith:
The fig tree stood for the people and their religious show, now clearly empty... so "this mountain" seems to mean instead their "place and nation"... It looked strong in Jewish eyes, but before the faith of the disciples it was doomed... This is the declared power of faith. But there is another requirement: the spirit of gracious forgiveness toward anyone who has wronged or otherwise offended us.
- Word. The tree withered because Jesus spoke; the same voice once said, "Let there be light."
- Root. It died from the roots up, against nature — the mark of God's own hand.
- Leaves. Figs come before leaves, so a leafy tree owed fruit. God judged a show of leaves with nothing behind it.
- Question. Peter only exclaimed, but the Lord answered him as though he had asked what it all meant.
- Faith. Stop trusting what looks solid; trust God, who never fails. And forgive, because faith and forgiveness go together.
And Jesus answering says to them, Have faith in God.
Peter points to the fig tree the Lord had cursed, now dead from the roots. The reply is not an explanation of the miracle but a command about God. What kind of faith is meant, what is the "mountain" that faith moves, and how far do the promises attached to it reach?
The men who opposed the Lord held all the power. The disciples held none. One writer sets the scene:
The Lord teaches His disciples the great principle. It enables the weakest believer to overcome the greatest difficulty and the most cunning opponent. Outwardly all the power and authority of the established order was in the hands of those who were opposing the Lord and His teaching. How then were a few poor fishermen to stand against the wisdom and power of men in high places? The Lord's answer is, "Have faith in God."
The phrase is unusual in Greek, and the wording matters. It is not confidence in general, warmed up by religion; it is faith defined by the One it looks at:
"Have faith in God" in Mark 11:22 is in Greek "the faith of God"; that is, it has God for its object.
William Kelly compares Mark's wording with Matthew's, and points to who needs it most:
The Master's answer was, "Have faith in God" — a more pointed form of speech than the one in the Gospel of Matthew, and of the gravest importance for the servants of God when they face the guilt and ruin of what seems finest, or at least is most valued among men.
Commentators read "this mountain" as something specific, not as any hardship at random:
The fig tree stood for the people and their religious show, now clearly empty, and judged by Him whose right it was and is. So "this mountain" seems to mean rather their "place and nation." In their unbelief they worked hard to keep that nation under Roman protection. ("We have no king but Caesar.") It stood strong in Jewish eyes. But before the faith of the disciples it was doomed, soon to be violently torn up and lost in the sea of the Gentiles.
Hamilton Smith adds that the mountain would go, but the resource would not: "though the mountain would be removed, God would remain, the unfailing resource for faith" (Hamilton Smith).
If faith has God as its object, then it moves with God. It does not give orders of its own:
It is certainly not that faith decides what it wants to do. Faith rather depends on the will of God. God had decided that the fig tree (Israel) would wither: faith therefore could act on God's will in the matter... For faith makes no independent decisions: it simply trusts the word and will of God.
Yet the promise itself stays wide. Commentators warn against cutting it down:
The promise here, of course, applies in many different ways. It would be entirely wrong to limit it in any way, except as the Lord Himself does. He clearly makes His last assurance as full as possible. To faith nothing shall be denied. But it is no limitation to insist that faith must be faith.
The passage does not end with mountains. It ends with grudges, and commentators treat that as part of the same instruction:
He assures His disciples that whatever they asked in faith would be done. But to secure this they must walk and act in grace, if they want to enjoy this privilege... I have no doubt why we so often get no answers to our prayers. Our hearts are not right before God in this respect. Someone keeps an old grudge alive instead of dropping it for good.
Another writer pictures the failure: "Two brothers kneel in the same prayer meeting... but they have hard and unforgiving thoughts towards each other; their prayers are vain and empty words" (J T Mawson).
- Object — The Greek says "the faith of God." It is faith with God Himself as its object, not confidence in yourself.
- Occasion — A dead fig tree prompted the words. The lesson was for men with no power, facing rulers who held it all.
- Mountain — Commentators read "this mountain" as Israel's place and nation. It would soon be torn up and lost in the sea of the Gentiles.
- Limits — Faith makes no decisions of its own. It trusts the word and will of God. And no one may narrow the promise the Lord gave.
- Condition — Faith towards God comes with forgiveness towards others. An old grudge explains many unanswered prayers.
Verily I say to you, that whosoever shall say to this mountain, Be thou taken away and cast into the sea, and shall not doubt in his heart, but believe that what he says takes place, whatever he shall say shall come to pass for him.
Peter points out the fig tree Jesus had cursed, now dead from the roots up. The Lord's reply turns it into a lesson about what faith can move, and it raises two questions: what is "this mountain," and how far does the promise reach?
The Lord gives this promise to men with no power of their own.
The Lord teaches His disciples the great principle that enables the weakest believer to overcome the greatest difficulty and the cleverest opponent. On the surface, those who opposed the Lord and His teaching held all the power and authority of the established order. How then were a few poor fishermen to stand against the wisdom and power of men in high places? The Lord's answer is, "Have faith in God."
The phrase that opens the Lord's answer carries another possible rendering.
"Have faith in God" can also read "faith of God" — that is, Divine faith. Compare Paul's phrase "righteousness of God."
The mountain image was not new. God had used it before, when His people faced a ruler who stopped their building work.
The king of Persia had commanded the work to stop. He might look like a great mountain, an obstacle God's people could never move. But God says to them for their encouragement, "Who are you, O great mountain? Before Zerubbabel you shall become a plain." Later, when on earth, the Lord Jesus said to His disciples, "Have faith in God; for truly, I say to you, whoever says to this mountain, 'Be taken up and thrown into the sea' … it will be done for him" (Mark 11:22-23). When faith rests its eye on God, the great mountain becomes a plain.
One reading takes the mountain as a specific obstacle in front of the disciples that day. History then shows what happened to it.
Of course the Lord is not speaking of a literal mountain. "This mountain" is the obstacle of Israel's condition at the time, just as the fig tree pictured her condition. The obstacle was Israel's opposition to the Lord Jesus. Its removal into the sea took place not long after the death of Christ. The nation was driven from her land and swallowed up in the sea of the Gentile nations.
Others read the mountain more broadly, as a picture of any obstacle.
The mountain is the type of an obstacle. Every obstacle can be and will be removed out of the way in answer to prayer. That there is a reference to Israel in these words is no doubt true. The nation was a mountain. By its disobedience and rejection of the Lord, it was an obstacle in the path of the Gospel.
Some would cut this promise down to size. One writer refuses, while keeping the one condition the Lord Himself attaches.
But the promise here has many applications. It would be quite wrong to limit it in any way, except as the Lord Himself does. He makes His last assurance as full as possible. To faith nothing shall be denied; but it is not limitation to insist that faith must be faith.
The promise is not an invitation to test whether it works.
Genuine, God-given faith, not mystical or imagined faith, is what is meant here. Many have probably tried this promise out as an experiment, only to be disappointed. Muhammad, it is said, had the nerve to order a mountain to come to him. When everyone could see his folly, he tried to escape the shame by saying, "If the mountain will not come to Muhammad, Muhammad will go to the mountain." But God does not give His promises, or the power of His Spirit, for curious experiments or for serving private ends.
So faith and God's will belong together.
Faith does not decide what it wants to do. Instead, faith depends on the will of God… Faith that leans on God in dependence could discern what God had decided, and so speak of it beforehand. For faith makes no decisions of its own: it trusts the word and will of God.
- Source — the Lord's answer opens with "have faith in God." The phrase can also read as divine faith: faith that comes from God and rests on Him.
- Sight — the nation and its religious order looked immovable. Faith saw it already on its way into the sea of the nations. A mountain becomes a plain when faith rests its eye on God.
- Scope — commentators differ on whether "this mountain" means Israel or any obstacle. They agree it is wrong to shrink the promise. To faith nothing shall be denied.
- Standard — the one limit is the Lord's own: faith must be faith. It is genuine and God-given, never mystical, imagined, or an experiment.
- Submission — faith makes no decisions of its own. It does not choose the mountain. It discerns God's will from His word and then speaks with no doubt in the heart.
For this reason I say to you, All things whatsoever ye pray for and ask, believe that ye receive it, and it shall come to pass for you.
The Lord speaks these words the morning after He cursed the barren fig tree. Peter had just pointed out that it withered from the roots. The promise that follows is very wide. It makes us ask what believing really means here.
The disciples were a small group. They faced the whole religious establishment. The promise answers that helplessness.
The Lord teaches His disciples the great principle. It lets the weakest believer overcome the hardest difficulty and the cleverest opponent. On the surface, the men who opposed the Lord and His teaching held all the power. How then were a few poor fishermen to stand against the wisdom and power of men in high places? The Lord's answer is, "Have faith in God."
One writer looks past the promise itself to what would happen to Israel as a nation.
We may well see here a hidden promise about Israel. Israel was now only an obstacle in the path of faith, and as a nation it would disappear among the nations. But this promise applies in many ways. It would be quite wrong to limit it, except as the Lord Himself does. He makes His closing promise as full as He can. Nothing will be denied to faith. Yet it is no limit to insist that faith must be real faith.
One writer weighs the two words that make the promise so broad.
"Whoever says … and does not doubt in his heart, but believes … it will be done for him." The whoever and the whatever make this a very sweeping statement. It almost takes our breath away. But it is connected with the prayer described in the next verse. In both these verses everything clearly hinges on the believing.
One writer refuses to set a limit where Scripture sets none. He applies the promise to everyday needs as well as spiritual ones.
I believe this is true of every spiritual blessing we need. And it is not limited to the spiritual. "Whatever you ask" sets no limit, and I refuse to add one where Scripture does not… The Lord often uses our daily needs to teach us. When faith prays to Him about them, we learn to pray and trust Him about the deeper spiritual needs.
Everything turns on the word "believe." So we need to know what belief is.
Belief is faith. Faith is not something we produce ourselves. It is not make-believe or imagination. Verse 24 does not mean that if I can work myself up to imagine I receive what I ask for, then I do receive it… Faith is the God-given power in me that receives God's Word. Faith is the eye of the soul, which receives and appreciates divine light.
One writer points to a confidence God Himself gives about one particular thing. He also warns against testing the promise.
Scripture recognises specific faith about a specific thing… This may be the special kind of faith the Lord means when He says, "whatever you ask in prayer, believe that you have received it, and it will be yours" (Mark 11:24). Genuine, divinely given faith, not mystical or imagined faith, is what is meant here. Many have tried this promise as an experiment, only to be disappointed… But God does not give His promises and the power of His Spirit for us to experiment with, or to use for our own private ends.
One writer takes the verse as a rule for all prayer, not a blank cheque for our own wishes.
Mark 11:24 gives the principle on which we are to pray in every case… all prayer should be with faith. Praying in the Holy Spirit is now tied to Christ's words staying in us… As a rule, the Holy Spirit will keep those words in our mind, if our hearts are right.
The same writer allows both realities: that God may give a specific assurance, and that our own will can distort a request.
It is always right to bring what we ask to Him, subject to His will… And the answer will be more glorious and blessed than what we asked, even when it is not the answer we wanted. Let us trust His love, and it will not fall short. If He has given us faith to expect a specific answer, let us bless God for it. Only our own will must not come in… But where there is earnest faith, God will hear, though He may guard us against our own will in it.
One writer ties believing prayer to how we hold our feelings towards other people.
If I hold a grudge against anyone, I do not have a good conscience towards God… I must be "without anger" as much as "without doubting" if I want to receive good things from God's hand.
- Faith in God — what counts is who you trust, not how hard you try. "Have faith in God" is the Lord's answer to a handful of fishermen facing an immovable system.
- Faith receives — believing is not working yourself up to imagine an answer. It is the soul taking in what God has said.
- Faith is given — God grants a specific faith about a specific thing. The promise is not there for us to experiment with.
- Faith submits — "whatever" has no limit, but our own will must not come in. Where He assures us of a specific answer, bless Him for it.
- Faith forgives — believing prayer goes with a heart that holds no grudge: without anger, as much as without doubting.
And when ye stand praying, forgive if ye have anything against any one, that your Father also who is in the heavens may forgive you your offences.
Jesus had cursed a fruitless fig tree the day before. The next morning Peter pointed out that it had withered, and the Lord turned the moment into a lesson on faith and prayer. Before He tells the disciples what prayer can move, He names what must move in them first: anything they hold against someone else.
The withered tree pictured a religious system that had failed, and the "mountain" the disciples were told they could move stood for the nation that looked immovable to them. One writer traces how the Lord's promise about faith runs straight into a second requirement:
The fig tree symbolized the people in their religious pretensions, now clearly empty, and so judged by Him whose right it was and is. So "this mountain" seems to mean rather their "place and nation," which in their unbelief they worked hard to keep under Roman protection... Strong as it stood in Jewish eyes, before the faith of the disciples it was doomed, and soon to be violently uprooted and lost in the sea of Gentiles. Such is the declared power of faith. But one more thing is needed, and faith itself would produce it: the spirit of gracious forgiveness toward anyone who might have wronged or otherwise offended us.
The Lord ties two things together in one sentence, and one writer takes the pair into the prayer meeting:
Two things are necessary if our prayers are to be heard and answered: faith towards God and forgiveness towards all others. The Lord Himself has joined them together in these memorable words, and we must not separate what He has joined together... Two brothers kneel in the same prayer meeting. Their being there shows that they have some faith in God. But they have hard and unforgiving thoughts towards each other, and their prayers are empty words.
The promise about faith comes with a moral condition, and one writer names what it costs to ignore it:
He assures His disciples that whatever they asked in faith would be done. But to make sure of this they must walk and act in grace, if they would enjoy this privilege. If you pray for something to be done, there must be forgiveness "if you have anything against anyone." I have no doubt why we so often get no answers to our prayers. Our hearts are not right before God in this respect. We keep up some old grudge instead of dismissing it for ever.
The verse says "your Father who is in heaven." The Lord is speaking to people already in that relationship. So the forgiveness here is a father's dealing with his children, not the settling of eternal guilt:
In the heavenly Father's holy government of His children, the unforgiving spirit comes under His discipline. If someone commits an offence against us and we refuse to forgive, we will miss God's governmental forgiveness. This is not a question of forgiveness for eternity. Those He was speaking to were disciples, and for them that great matter was already settled.
So what is lost is nearness to God, and a second writer shows how deep that loss goes:
If we do not forgive, we are not forgiven as children. Communion with God our Father is put on hold. His Spirit within us is grieved. To go on as though all were right is presumption; it is insincerity and displeasing to God. True prayer is communion with God. It is speaking to Him with the confidence of a heart that does not condemn us.
"Anyone" leaves no one out, and a forgiving heart is not the same as pretending wrong never happened:
Whoever it may be that we have anything against, we must have a thoroughly forgiving spirit toward them. This does not mean that God's assembly should restore them to fellowship while they continue in sinful disobedience. But our personal attitude must be one of willingness to forgive. If it is not so, how can we expect God to forgive our own trespasses and answer our prayers favourably?
The posture in the verse is simply the ordinary one of the people the Lord was speaking to:
Standing was, and remains, the usual posture of Jews in prayer... The scriptural postures are either standing (Abraham, in Gen. 18:22; compare Jer. 15:1, of Moses and Samuel), or kneeling (Solomon, Daniel, our Lord in Luke 22:41, Stephen, Peter, Paul).
- Faith first. Mountain-moving prayer rests on faith in God, and that same faith produces a spirit that forgives.
- Forgiveness with it. The Lord joined believing prayer and a forgiving heart; we are not free to separate them.
- Father, not Judge. The forgiveness at stake is a father's dealing with his children. The eternal question is already settled for those who believe.
- Communion is the cost. An unforgiving heart puts fellowship with the Father on hold. Praying on as if all were well is insincerity.
- No exceptions. "Anyone" means anyone. The willingness to forgive must be personal, whoever the offender is.
But if *ye* do not forgive, neither will your Father who is in the heavens forgive your offences.
Commentary for this verse has not been generated yet.
And they come again to Jerusalem. And as he walked about in the temple, the chief priests and the scribes and the elders come to him,
Jesus comes back to Jerusalem and walks in the temple He had cleared the day before. The chief priests, scribes and elders come to Him with a challenge to His right to act — and they are the ones who end up examined.
He would not spend the night inside the city. What starts now is an inspection of the men who ran it.
Now He enters Jerusalem again. He will not stay the night in the city that God has now given up. Here He begins to review and examine all the leaders of the people I have spoken about. First of all comes the examination of the authority that sets itself up against His own.
Chief priests, scribes and elders arrive together. What moved them was not concern for God's house but concern for their own standing in it.
As always, the most bitter opponents of Christ are the religious leaders of a corrupt system. The chief priests, the scribes and elders are the first to be shown up in the presence of the Lord... Sadly, these religious leaders thought only of themselves and their religious reputation. They cared just as little for the needs of people as for the holiness of God's house. They wanted to keep their own authority, so they were jealous of anything done in religious matters without their direction. They were indifferent to the corruption in the House of God, and unable to deal with it themselves. So they oppose the One who can deal with the evil, and does, by raising the question of authority.
Notice the delay. On the day itself they said nothing. Their question comes now, about what He had done then.
The Lord began again to teach the people in the temple. While He was doing this and walking about, as Mark in particular notes, the chief priests, the scribes and elders come to Him with a question about His startling actions the day before. At the time they were taken by surprise and said nothing. Now they have got over their shock, and they ask what authority He had for what He did. Who gave a man outside Aaron's priestly line the right to order people and things inside God's house?
Two claims to authority now stand face to face, and both are put on trial.
So we see the two set against each other, and the authority of each is called into question. The official, outward authority was in the hands of the priests. Truth and obedience to God were in Jesus.
He had already acted for the honour of God's house, and the authority He used there was His own.
The glory of the Lord, the glory of the house of Jehovah, is defended with authority — an authority He claims as His own, and which He exercises in His own Person.
Everything He had done was already evidence.
The question of authority is the first one raised, and on the face of it, it is unspeakable folly. His works bore witness to Him. No one could suppose that divine power like the power seen in His works had been obtained by unlawful means.
Jesus does not defend Himself. He sets them a smaller question first, about John the Baptist.
They had come challenging the authority by which He had acted in cleansing the temple the day before. The Lord answered by asking them to settle a first question: was John's baptism and ministry valid or not? They demanded the credentials of the great Master, but what about the credentials of the humble forerunner? There would be time enough to take up the greater problem once they had settled the smaller one. Let them decide about John.
Their refusal to answer exposed more than ignorance. It showed where the real problem lay.
It was an appeal to conscience. But they had no conscience, except a bad one. It drew back into silence at once, afraid to commit itself, yet not afraid to play games with God and man... Those who could not settle the question about the servant were certainly not fit to judge the Master. In truth, their inability was, if anything, the smaller fault beside their hypocritical wickedness: their will was more at fault than their understanding.
- Authority claimed. Jesus cleansed the temple on His own right. He claims that authority and exercises it in His own Person.
- Authority challenged. The leaders were indifferent to the corruption in God's house and unable to deal with it. So they opposed the One who did, by demanding His credentials.
- Authority contrasted. The outward, official authority sat with the priests; truth and obedience to God were in Jesus.
- Authority tested. He asks them about John first. Those who cannot settle the question of the servant are not fit to judge the Master.
- Authority exposed. Their refusal to answer revealed a bad conscience. Their will was more at fault than their understanding.
and they say to him, By what authority doest thou these things? and who gave thee this authority, that thou shouldest do these things?
Chief priests, scribes and elders corner Jesus in the temple, where He had driven out the traders and was now teaching. Their two questions sound fair, but commentators call the demand folly and hypocrisy.
The demand has two halves. One asks what kind of right He has. The other assumes someone must have given it to Him.
The house belonged to the Lord God. Jesus was not from Aaron's priestly family. So by what right did He take it on Himself to drive out the traders and turn over the money-changers' tables? What He had just done there, He had done in His own name. He called it "My house." Who had ever acted as the Lord Himself? Who had ever taken the prophet's words and used them of Himself?... Was He claiming power in that house as one who had the right in Himself? Or was He claiming an authority handed down to Him when He made all the traders run from Him?
These men had left the corruption in the temple untouched. They asked their question to protect their own position.
As always, the most bitter opponents of Christ are the religious leaders of a corrupt system... Sadly, these leaders thought only of themselves and their religious reputation. They cared nothing for the needs of people, and nothing for the holiness of God's house. They were indifferent to the corruption in the House of God, and unable to deal with it themselves. So they oppose the One who can deal with the evil, and does — by raising the question of authority.
His works had already answered the question. So He refused to answer it until they answered His.
The question of authority is raised first. On the face of it, it is complete folly. His works spoke for Him, and no one could suppose that divine power like the power seen in them had been obtained by wrong means. So He refuses to answer their question unless they answer His first.
They had turned the temple into a market, and its cleansing exposed them. He had miracles He could have pointed to.
God comes into the world to do good, and man asks by what authority God does good in the world! Jesus had been showing His power before this, but now He was quietly teaching in the temple. It upset them to see their hypocrisy uncovered, and to see God's own hand cleanse the temple of the trade by which they had turned it into a market. That is why they ask Him this question. The Lord points to no miracle — He has done many, but He does not appeal to them.
He does not defend Himself. He answers with a question of His own, and the examination turns around.
Jesus promises to tell them about His authority if they will answer His question about John the Baptist's baptism — was it from heaven or from men? It was an appeal to conscience. But they had no conscience, except a bad one. It drew back at once and kept quiet, afraid to commit itself, yet not afraid to treat God and man lightly... Who were they, then, to question the authority of Jesus? If all they could say was "We do not know," they had confessed they were not competent. Men who could not settle the question about the servant were certainly not fit to judge the Master. In truth, their inability was, if anything, less to blame than their hypocritical wickedness: the fault lay in the will even more than in the understanding.
The same demand still comes up. Whenever God works, someone asks who gave permission.
What is of God recognises God's work: God's work proves itself. If God's work is done, God has done it. Those who are of God, and know His work, do not question God's right to act... But it is worth remembering that God's work needs no permission. Who is there to give it? God certainly needs no one's leave to work, or to set others working. Anyone who claims church authority as his licence to work proves that it is not God who is working — for who can give God permission?
- Authority questioned. Jesus was not from Aaron's priestly family. So the leaders assume someone must have given Him the right to cleanse the temple and teach in it.
- Authority defended. They cared about their own standing. They left the temple corrupt, then resented the One who cleaned it.
- Authority self-evident. The demand was folly. Divine power was at work in His hands, and no one obtains that by wrong means.
- Authority tested. He replies with a question about John's baptism. It reached their conscience and showed that the fault lay in the will, not the understanding.
- Authority unauthorised. God's work proves itself. Anyone who claims church permission as his licence to work shows that God is not the one working.
And Jesus answering said to them, *I* also will ask you one thing, and answer me, and I will tell you by what authority I do these things
The chief priests, scribes and elders have challenged Jesus in the temple. They demand to know who gave Him the right to act. He does not answer them. He puts one question of His own to them instead. Why does He answer a question with a question — and why is that not evasion but the fairest thing He could have done?
The challenge did not come from puzzled onlookers. It came from men who were guarding their own place at the top of the religious system.
They wanted to keep their own authority. So they were jealous of any religious action that they did not direct. They did not care about the corruption in the House of God, and they were not able to deal with it themselves. So they raise the question of authority to oppose the One who can, and does, deal with the evil.
The question also showed the size of their world. They asked who had licensed Him, and only one sort of licence had crossed their minds.
Of course, being blind as they were, they were thinking only of man's authority. So the Lord, with admirable wisdom, asks them a question in return. He promises that if they will answer, He will answer their question.
His offer has one condition. He asks first, then He answers. It also puts the judges themselves on trial.
The question of authority is the one they raise first. On the face of it, it is folly beyond words. His works bore witness to Him, and no one could suppose that He had gained such divine power by unlawful means. So He refuses to answer their question unless they answer His own first. If they were able to judge about Him, they should know about the baptism of John, whether it was from heaven or of men. And if they were not able to judge, there was no use in answering them.
The easier question comes first. Their answer to it would show what they were made of.
It was an appeal to conscience. But they had no conscience, except a bad one. It pulled back at once. It was afraid to commit itself, but not afraid to trifle with God and man... Who were they, then, to question the authority of Jesus? If they could only say "We do not know," they confessed their own incompetence. Those who could not settle the question about the servant were certainly not fit to judge the Master.
His one question was not a trap for its own sake. Had they answered it, they would have answered their own.
He put it to them to decide about the authority of John's baptism, whether it was "from heaven or of men." His aim was not so much to put their safety with the crowd at risk, as their evil hearts suggested. His aim was to lead them, in God's own appointed way, to the answer of their own question. They ought to have felt no hesitation in deciding that John's baptism was "from heaven." That answer would have shown at once by what authority He was acting, for John's ministry was God's testimony to Him, the Christ.
This is a pattern in how Jesus deals with people. The words He gives are shaped by the state of the person speaking.
Someone has rightly said that the Lord never answered a curious question curiously. He answered their heart and conscience. So here He answers their question by asking another.
They weighed both answers for safety, not for truth. Then they chose the reply that admitted nothing, and the exchange ended there.
Before they answered the Lord, they reasoned among themselves. That reasoning proves they had no principle at all. Whatever they believed, they were ready to answer either way, as a matter of policy. But they judge that either answer might expose them to condemnation from the Lord or from men. Therefore they fall back on silence.
- Authority challenged. The leaders raised the question of authority to guard their own place. They cared nothing for the corruption in God's house.
- Authority tested. His one question was a fair trade and a test. Settle the smaller question about John, and you show you can judge the greater question about Jesus.
- Authority revealed. The answer they refused to give was the answer they had asked for. John's whole ministry was God's testimony to Christ.
- Authority put to conscience. Jesus does not satisfy curiosity. He speaks to the heart behind the question. Here that heart chose policy over truth.
- Authority withheld. Men who will not say what they know keep only what they claimed — ignorance. So He declines to tell them.
The baptism of John, was it of heaven, or of men? answer me.
Jesus has cleansed the temple. The chief priests, scribes and elders now demand to know who gave Him the right to do it. He does not produce credentials. He asks them one question about John the Baptist, and that question settles everything — about Him and about them.
The men who confront Jesus are the official guardians of Israel's religion. Their challenge says more about them than about Him.
As always, the most bitter opponents of Christ are the religious leaders of a corrupted system... These religious leaders thought only of themselves and their religious reputation. They cared nothing for the needs of people, and nothing for the holiness of God's house. They wanted to keep their own authority, so they were jealous of anything done in religion that they had not directed. They were indifferent to the corruption in God's house, and unable to deal with it themselves. So they oppose the One who can, and does, deal with the evil — by raising the question of authority.
The Lord's question allows only two answers about John's mission. Either answer costs them something.
So the Lord, with admirable wisdom, asks them a question in return. He promises that if they answer Him, He will answer them. "Was the baptism of John from heaven or from man?" Where did John get his authority? Heaven's authority had never entered their earth-bound minds. So they are now in serious difficulty. If they admitted the truth, that John's authority came from heaven, they would condemn their own unbelief. On the other hand, if they lied, saying that it was from men, the common people, who knew better, would oppose them.
Jesus could have pointed to His miracles or to the prophecies. He did not.
He appeals neither to miracles nor prophecy, but to conscience. How clearly God had fulfilled the ancient prophecies in Him — in His person, His life and His ministry! How full was the testimony of the signs and wonders He did! Yet their question proved how useless all of it had been. His question proved either their dishonesty or their blindness. In either case, who were they to judge? They never realised what they were doing. As they tried to examine the Lord of glory, they were only showing their own distance and alienation from God. So it always is. How we judge what concerns Christ — or refuse to judge it — is an unfailing measure of our own condition.
This was not a debating trick to escape a hard spot. An honest answer would have handed them the very thing they were asking for.
He did this, not mainly to put them in danger with the crowd, as their evil hearts suspected. He did it to lead them, in God's own appointed way, to the answer of their own question. They should have had no hesitation in deciding that John's baptism was "from heaven." That answer would have shown at once by what authority He was acting. For John's ministry was God's testimony to Him, the Christ.
They could not plead ignorance. They had already investigated John themselves.
They had sent a special delegation to the Baptist to look into his claim, and everyone knew how the Baptist had recognised the Lord... In any case they had the means of answering their own question.
Their retreat into "we do not know" was not caution. It was a verdict on themselves.
So they chose to hide behind an ignorance that looked careful. Who were they, then, to question the authority of Jesus? If all they could say was "We do not know," they confessed their own incompetence. Those who could not settle the question about the servant were surely not fit to judge the Master. And their inability was the smaller fault. Their hypocritical wickedness was the greater: the fault lay in their will even more than in their understanding.
The same question still stands today, in a different form.
A similar question is before people's minds today. It is not now about John, but about the Bible. A book is in our hands, with the highest claim to a divine mission. The challenge therefore comes to us: is it from heaven, or from man? If it is from heaven, the next question follows: "Why then did you not believe it?" But if the Bible is from man, let us put it in a museum. It is only a curious relic of an ignorant past.
- Authority questioned — Leaders who could not clean God's house challenged the One who did.
- Authority located — Only two sources exist for any mission: heaven or man. There is no neutral third answer.
- Authority tested — Jesus appealed to conscience, not to miracles. What we decide about Christ measures us.
- Authority already witnessed — John's ministry was God's own testimony to Jesus. Answer honestly about the servant, and the Master's authority is settled.
- Authority still asked — The same challenge now meets us in the Bible: if it is from heaven, why then do we not believe it?
And they reasoned with themselves, saying, If we should say, Of heaven, he will say, Why [then] have ye not believed him?
The chief priests, scribes and elders had just demanded to know by whose authority Jesus cleansed the temple. He answered with a question about John the Baptist, and here we overhear them working out which reply would cost them least.
The Lord's reply named two possible sources of authority.
Of course, being blind as they were, they were thinking only of man's authority. The Lord therefore asks them a question in return, with admirable wisdom. He promises that if they will answer, He will answer their question. "The baptism of John, was it from heaven or from men?" Where did John get his authority? Heaven's authority had never entered their earth-bound minds. So they find themselves in a serious dilemma.
Jesus had no shortage of evidence to point to.
He appeals neither to miracles nor prophecy, but to conscience. How clearly the ancient prophecies had been fulfilled in His person, in His life and in His ministry! How full the testimony of signs and wonders He worked! Yet their question proved how useless it all had been. His question proved either their dishonesty or their blindness. In either case, who were they to judge? They thought they were examining the Lord of glory. In truth they were only showing their own distance from God, their own estrangement from Him. So it always is. How we judge what concerns Christ is a sure gauge of our own condition. So is our refusal to judge it.
They could see where the honest answer led, and they had no will to go there.
They had no conscience, except a bad one. It shrank back into silence at once, afraid to commit itself, but not afraid to trifle with God and man. For this was their reasoning: if they allowed John's baptism to be from heaven, they must receive his testimony to Jesus.
Of all the things Jesus could have asked about, this one struck at everything these men stood on.
The baptism of John was something new. It had no air of sacred tradition, no claim to age, no link with the priesthood or the temple. To admit that it came from heaven was a most serious matter for these men. They drew all their importance from the regular course of the law and its rituals. Besides, it settled at once the question of the Messiah, for John had declared in the strongest and most solemn way that Jesus was the Christ.
They were weighing risk, not truth.
If they endorsed John's baptism as coming from heaven, they condemned themselves, for they had not believed him. If they rejected it as coming only from men, they would lose popularity with the people who held him to be a prophet. That popularity was very dear to them, for "they loved the praise of men" (John 12:43).
By refusing to rule on John, they gave up any right to examine Jesus.
They cannot answer it. If they said John's mission was from men, they would be in direct opposition to the people. And theirs was no martyr-spirit, ready to suffer for their convictions. It was easier, for all the humiliation involved, to claim ignorance. But then they were no court to judge claims of this kind.
There is a harder verdict too. Their real problem was not that they could not tell.
If all they could say was "We do not know," they confessed their own incompetence. Those who could not settle the question about the servant were surely not fit to judge the Master. In truth, their inability was, if anything, smaller than their hypocritical wickedness. The will was more at fault than the understanding.
- Conscience. Jesus passed over miracles and prophecy. He aimed straight at conscience.
- Cost. To grant John heaven's authority was to accept his witness to Jesus. The honest answer cost the most.
- Calculation. So they weighed answers by what was safe, not by what was true. They loved the praise of men.
- Collapse. Pleading ignorance cost them their standing. Men who could not judge the servant were no court to judge the Master.
- Challenge. Their dodge exposed them, not Jesus. Judging Christ, or refusing to, reveals our own condition.
but should we say, Of men -- they feared the people; for all held of John that he was truly a prophet.
The religious leaders had demanded to know by what authority Jesus acted. He answered with a question about John's baptism, and this verse catches them mid-discussion. They drop the second answer — not because it was false, but because the crowd would not stand for it.
The word behind "held that John really was a prophet" is not about owning something but about how people rated him. One commentator explains why:
The Greek verb used here very often carries meanings far wider than "possession." The move from there to the sense of "regard," which is the sense needed in Mark 11:32, is completely natural. In fact we have the same thing with "hold" in our own language: in ordinary use it means to "count" someone as something, as well as its literal sense of "keep" or "have."
So the leaders run into a verdict the crowd had already formed about John.
Notice what is missing from their private talk: any interest in whether John's mission came from God. They weigh each answer only by what it would cost them.
Their reasoning among themselves, before answering the Lord, proves their complete lack of any principle. Whatever their convictions, they were ready as a matter of policy to answer either way. But they judge that either answer might expose them to condemnation from the Lord or from men. So they fall back on silence, saying, "We cannot tell." Their hypocritical wickedness now exposed, the Lord refuses to answer their question.
The verse names their motive: they were afraid. Men who should have feared God let the crowd control them instead. A comment on the same men a few verses later states the principle:
The chief priests and Pharisees knew that He was speaking about them; but His words held the people, and as yet they could do nothing. Those who have lost the fear of God are the very ones who fall most completely under the fear of man.
The same fear works twice over: it silences them here, and later it holds them back from acting against Him.
They were caught two ways at once. They would not admit their sins to John, yet they were glad of the honour of having a prophet in Israel:
He asks whether John the Baptist's mission was from God. If they said Yes, then John had witnessed to Jesus; if No, their authority was compromised before the people. Where was their right to ask, "What is the truth?" They knew it; yet they were glad enough to have the honour, long lost, of having a prophet in the middle of Israel. Admitting their sins did not suit them, and so the light was soon put out for their hearts; but the people always accounted John to be a prophet.
The ordinary people had done better with John than their teachers did. They took him for a prophet, while their leaders wanted the honour of a prophet without admitting the sins he exposed.
Their refusal to answer cost them more than they saw. Men who came to test the Master's credentials ended up admitting they could not judge John's:
They were betrayed by the way they handled this matter. They had no thought of deciding it on its merits. The only thing that mattered to them was what was convenient, and there they were trapped between two bad answers. A decision either way would land them in difficulty. They were sharp enough to see this, and so they decided to plead ignorance. But this plea was fatal to their demand that the Lord should submit His credentials to their scrutiny. They proclaimed their incompetence in the easier matter, and so could not press their demand in the harder one.
- Held — To "hold" John a prophet means to count him one. The crowd's verdict was fixed, and the leaders knew it.
- Policy — They weighed consequences, never truth. Whatever answer was safest, they were ready to give it.
- Fear — Having lost the fear of God, they fell under the fear of men. The same dread silences them here and holds them back later.
- Hypocrisy — They wanted the honour of a prophet in Israel without admitting their sins. So the light they refused was soon put out.
- Forfeit — By pleading ignorance about John, they gave up any right to judge the Master, and the Lord refused to answer them.
And they answering say to Jesus, We do not know. And Jesus [answering] says to them, Neither do *I* tell you by what authority I do these things.
The chief priests, scribes and elders stop Jesus in the temple and demand to know who gave Him the right to act as He has. He replies with a question about John's baptism — and when they dodge it, He refuses to tell them anything.
The challenge did not come from honest seekers. It came from men guarding their own authority in God's house.
They thought only of themselves and their religious reputation. They cared nothing for the needs of men, and nothing for the holiness of God's house. They wanted to keep their own authority, so they were jealous of anything done in religious matters that was not under their direction. They were indifferent to the corruption in the House of God, and unable to deal with it themselves. So they oppose the One who can deal with the evil, and does — by raising the question of authority.
Their question assumed that authority is something one man hands to another. So the Lord asks them where John's own authority came from.
They were blind, of course, so they were thinking only of man's authority. So the Lord, with admirable wisdom, asks them a question in return. He promises that if they will answer it, He will answer theirs. "Was the baptism of John from heaven or from man?" Where did John get his authority? Heaven's authority had never entered their earth-bound minds. So they find themselves in a serious dilemma.
The Lord's question was not a way of avoiding theirs. It tested whether these men were fit to judge anything at all.
It was an appeal to conscience. But they had no conscience, except a bad one. It shrank back into silence at once, afraid to commit itself, yet not afraid to treat God and man lightly… Who were they, then, to question the authority of Jesus? If all they could say was "We do not know," they confessed their own incompetence. Those who could not settle the question about the servant were surely not qualified to judge the Master. In truth their incapacity was even less than their hypocritical wickedness: the will was at fault more than the understanding.
Their reply sounds like honest uncertainty. It was the one answer that cost them nothing on either side.
They knew where it was from, but a true answer would have condemned themselves. To have denied its heavenly authority would have brought them into conflict with the crowd. So they answered, "We do not know." They showed what they were.
The Lord's closing words are not stubbornness. They answer men who have shut their own eyes to the light.
Our Lord refused to go on dealing with those who had closed their eyes to the light. So, when the Pharisees ask Him by what authority He does His miracles, He asks them a question that uncovers their attitude toward God… Our Lord therefore turns from them: "Neither will I tell you by what authority I do these things."
There was also nothing left to gain by naming the source of His authority to such men.
To tell them the ground of His authority was useless. It was too late now to tell them. They would have stoned Him if He had named its true source… So Jesus refuses to treat them as competent leaders and guardians of the people's faith. They had judged themselves.
Their answer was a confession — though not the one they meant to make.
It did not suit them to own their sins, and so the light was soon put out for their hearts… This was their confession: they could not judge the claims of a man who said he had a mission from God, because they could not say whether John was a prophet or not.
- Demand — The question came from leaders guarding their own position, not from men who cared about God's house.
- Test — Jesus answers with a question aimed at their conscience. Settle where John's authority came from, and you have settled His.
- Dodge — "We do not know" was not honest ignorance. They knew. Both true answers cost them something they refused to pay.
- Silence — They admitted they could not judge God's servant. So they were in no place to judge the Master, and He tells them nothing.
- Loss — Light refused does not wait. The men who would not own John's mission stayed in the darkness they chose.