You’d think, after what had happened there just the day before, the Temple officials would be on the lookout to bar Jesus from the Temple: strict orders to the gatekeepers.  They were probably still clearing and cleaning up the mess and debris, and here comes Jesus again.  But we’re told the officials were afraid of Jesus.  They didn’t like what was happening but, even more, they didn’t understand what was happening.  We’re not told so outright, but it seems they had hardened their hearts.  They liked the God they had made, and when Jesus came to show them God, they bristled.  But Jesus had power, they knew.  They were afraid of him because, as Mark tells us, the people were amazed by what Jesus was teaching (11:18).  In this case, amazement appears to be the good sort: the people were impressed, attentive, maybe also approving.  The people were accepting the authority of Jesus—that gave him power—and the officials couldn’t abide that.  If the people stopped respecting the position and authority of the officials, what would happen?  So, they knew they would have to proceed wisely, carefully, and decisively.

They begin with the direct approach, confrontation: “while Jesus was walking in the temple courts, the chief priests, the teachers of the law and the elders came to him.  ‘By what authority are you doing these things?’ they asked.  ‘And who gave you authority to do this?’” (11:27-28).  On whose orders?  At whose command or instruction?  Who is behind all this?  Just who do you think you are?  Authority—the right and power to command, to decide, to judge.  Authority is power within a previously agreed upon framework, as in our constitution, or a contract, or a covenant.  Authority is conferred, given, sometimes seized.  The duly-constituted authority of the Jewish people, the Sanhedrin, demands an explanation from Jesus, this upstart nobody from nowhere.  Jesus has no authoritative office: he’s no priest, having been ordained by no man and being no son of Aaron.  Jesus is no king, having been anointed by no priest—though Jesus was a descendant of David.  Was he claiming a prophet’s authority?  The people regarded him as a prophet, and that was no small honor—though it was always a dangerous distinction.  Of the three—king, priest, and prophet—the prophet always came with least power but greatest authority.  Jesus never claimed to be a prophet.  He never claimed the office of the priesthood.  He never claimed the crown or throne of David, though all these were his.  Jesus came as a servant who had emptied himself; that was his authority: he so genuinely lived the message he taught.

And we could leave it at that, but we dare not, for that would be to miss the meaning for the man.

The key question was this: “who gave you authority.”  The priests knew where theirs came from: the institution of the priesthood, the ceremony of ordination.  Jesus could tell them who had given him authority, but telling wouldn’t cause belief: it hadn’t, so far.  Jesus could show them, but showing hadn’t yet caused belief.  They would know who gave him authority when they knew the one who gives authority.  They did not know who gave Jesus authority.  The conclusion we’re to draw, then, is that they did not know the one who gives authority.  The chief priests, teachers of the law, and elders did not know God; over centuries of generations they had lost acquaintance with Him as, increment by increment and preference by preference, they had fashioned a substitute: not God but my god.  That wasn’t unique.  Scripture tends to show us that such loss of acquaintance, more often than not, is intentional, because people prefer their manufactured god to the genuine God.  Not much seems to have changed.  Given the human heart, why would it?

Even if that loss of acquaintance were unintentional, the result was the same: despite their knowledge of Scripture, they no longer knew God, so they did not, could not, would not recognize Jesus.  The cruel irony in it was that it was their very knowledge of Scripture that kept them from recognizing Jesus.  There are those who read for what they want to find, what they want to hear—affirmation of their deep biases or bent desires.  They read without heartbroken passion or humble listening, so they miss the message.  They read, rather, in the pride of their intelligence and the stubbornness of their heart; that always ends badly.

Recognizing God, listening to God, loving God—the leaders of the people all spoke of their deep devotion, affirmed it, staked their character upon it.  If anyone knew God—they argued—if anyone recognized Him, loved Him, it was the priests, the teachers of the law, and the elders.  And most of the people accepted that as probably true, or that it ought to be true.  But the people also saw what Jesus did, heard what he said, saw how he lived, and they were impressed, and listened: a compelling life, beloved—oh! the power of a faith-filled life.  Never underestimate the impact such living can have on people.  I believe that more people will begin turning to the Lord when they see faith-filled living in action around them, a little less self and a little more God: I know I’m not there yet, God help me!

Jesus has a question for those who question him: “I will ask you one question.  Answer me, and I will tell you by what authority I am doing these things.  John’s baptism—was it from heaven, or of human origin?  Tell me!” (11:29-30).  Their answer will be telling, indeed.  Their answer will tell Jesus what he already knows and will tell the authority of the Jewish people what some of them had long feared and what many would never concede: their devotion wasn’t to God but to themselves, their power, wealth, prestige, position . . . their authority, preserving their vested interest.  You see, they saw their prestige and position as naturally right, considering who they were, and also as signs of God’s favor.  Having that favor, they believed, also meant that they must be right: God would never show favor to someone who wasn’t right!

It never occurred to them that the signs of God’s favor on this earth might be hardship, rejection, and sharp, violent criticism.

They talked about love for God.  In their daily practice and thought, their highest interest was for themselves.  The benefits, blessings, of their position had all been so bound together for so long that, for them, love for God and love of prestige, honor, and deference were no longer distinguishable one from the other.  Perhaps the saddest part of it all was that, by their values and choices, not only did they no longer know God, but they were also rendering themselves incapable of knowing Him, incapable of recognizing Him, incapable of hearing Him.  That danger is ever present.  The prophets many a time had come to warn them.  The prophets to a man were all ignored, until it was too late.  Must it ever be so?

“They discussed it among themselves and said, ‘If we say, “From heaven,” he will ask, “Then why didn’t you believe him?”  But if we say, “Of human origin” . . . ’  (They feared the people, for everyone held that John really was a prophet.)  So they answered Jesus, ‘We don’t know.’  Jesus said, ‘Neither will I tell you by what authority I am doing these things’” (11:31-33).  Note that, in their deliberations, what they believed, if they believed anything, isn’t at all in view.  It may be that they genuinely don’t know—which would be terribly sad, indeed!—but the sense of what they are saying is, “we refuse to answer.”  They won’t be compelled to testify against themselves!  They’ll believe whatever they need to believe in order to win, in order to preserve their position, their almost priceless self-conception.

So, what they discuss, then, is how to win the argument, or at least come to a draw.  Even a draw, from their perspective, would be like winning.  What they want more than anything is to best Jesus, find some way to show him up, expose him, stop him.

As they try to figure out how to do that, there’s no argument about whether they believed John the Baptist; that is, whether or not they recognized and accepted the authority in which John had come.  The people did.  But the authorities couldn’t say so and continue to do things the way they always had, the way they liked, that suited and served them.  Like Jesus, John also spoke with an authority the religious officials neither accepted nor understood: he was just competition, a nuisance.

Oh, it may be that some of the religious authorities deep down did believe that God had sent John, but nothing in their subsequent behavior gave any indication that what John had proclaimed had any effect upon them, any more than God’s Word had an effect upon them.  They heard but they did not permit the hearing to change them.  They heard but did not submit.  Beloved, people can read this book, if they ever read this book, and still be unaffected by it, or read in order to have their prejudices and biases affirmed in what they read while rejecting or passing by whatever does not seem to affirm or celebrate those prejudices and biases.  We all know some Scripture.  Not many make it a goal to know a lot of Scripture, to get it in them, vital, laboring.  God gives us a lifetime.  Might we all make a little more time for what God is saying?