It all kicked off when Jesus made his triumphal entry into the city of Jerusalem in the manner of a royal coronation. The scene resembled the story of young Solomon, King David’s son, who was nearly outsmarted by one of his stepbrothers and who would have succeeded the old and ailing king. The disaster was narrowly avoided thanks to King David’s politically skilful advisor, the prophet Nathan, who intervened with the king. In response, David instructed Nathan and the High Priest Zadok to sit Solomon on the king’s mule, ride him to a designated place (there was no temple in Jerusalem yet), anoint him as king, and then enthrone him as the rightful king. His reign was considered the golden age in the ancient history of Israel, the era of prosperity, peace and powerful regional influence. The centuries that followed saw a downward spiral that culminated in the eventual loss of their independence, dispersion, and exile. Fuelled by a plethora of hopeful prophecies, Jesus’ contemporaries expected the arrival of the Messiah, the Anointed One, a powerful leader who would make Israel great again. In such a febrile political and social atmosphere, Jesus deliberately stirred the pot by arranging his “royal-like” procession. As a result, “when he entered Jerusalem, the whole city was filled with excitement. “Who is this?” the people asked, and the crowds replied, “This is the prophet Jesus from Nazareth in Galilee.” He didn’t stop there. He “entered the temple and drove out all those whom he found buying and selling there. He overturned the tables of the money changers and the seats of those who were selling doves.” When the reps of the Jewish elites arrived and heard the crowds chanting, “Hosanna to the Son of David, […] they became infuriated” and insisted that Jesus should stop them. Instead, he added fuel to the fire by recalling a prophecy that effectively confirmed the crowd’s assumptions.
When Jesus returned to the temple the next morning, they were waiting for him, now – they thought – better prepared to question him: “By what authority are you doing these things? And who gave you this authority?” Jesus promised to answer them in return for their response to his question: “The baptism of John [the Baptist], from where did it come? From heaven or from man?” That put them in a bind: “If we say, ‘From heaven’, he will say to us, ‘Why then did you not believe him?’ But if we say, ‘From man’, we are afraid of the crowd, for they all hold that John was a prophet.” So they decided to claim a lack of discernment; in response, Jesus declined to reveal the source of his authority and instead told them the parable about two sons and their father’s request that we heard in today’s gospel. It concluded with a rather rhetorical question: “Which of the two did the will of his father?” Their obvious answer triggered Jesus’ rebuttal of their rejection of John the Baptist. From Jesus’ opponents’ and audience’s point of view, it was brutal: “Truly, I say to you, the tax collectors and the prostitutes go into the kingdom of God before you.” They were two professions that proverbially represented the ultimate moral decadence and were widely despised. And here, Jesus elevated such people above those who – in their mind – represented the best of society.
Obviously, Jesus’ praise of “the tax collectors and the prostitutes” wasn’t earned by their commitment to their respective professions but by their active, life-changing response to John’s calls for repentance. In a similar vein, Jesus’ rebuttal of the Jewish elites concerned their failure to respond to either John’s message or the testimony of those who had done so. At the heart of their stubbornness was a sense of superiority that always breeds arrogance. It stemmed from their commendable desire to share and lead others towards a greater knowledge and understanding of God, which they believed they had gained through their education and overall societal position. One of the main challenges of such a privileged position is an almost imperceptible, gradual shift from sympathetic companion to arrogant, aloof, self-centred person, looking down on others to ever-strengthen their own sense of superiority. As practising Christians, we can unwittingly develop such an attitude simply by almost subconscious, instinctive comparison with others who might seem to us to be spiritually or morally inferior. That might be objectively true. The question is what we do with such a conclusion. Does it make us feel better about ourselves or spur us to have compassion for others and think about what can be done to help them? Of course, often we can’t do much directly. But even saying a wee prayer in your mind or under your breath can be a good start. Jesus defined his mission in very simple terms: “God did not send his Son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved through him.” (John 3:17) After his resurrection, he delegated this mission to his disciples. We must carry it out in the manner presented by St Paul in today’s second reading: “Do nothing from selfish ambition or conceit, but in humility count others more significant than yourselves. Let each of you look not only to his own interests, but also to the interests of others.”
