Politics. Hard to get away from it, isn’t it? Every week seems to be filled with even more disruption and chaos than the week before. And violence and injustice always seem to be right smack in the middle of it.

It’s a month away from the midterms, and boy howdy! People are anxious. War. Inflation. Gas prices. Problems with allies. Immigration overreach. It’s a tough time right now.

But Jesus knows the price you pay when you find yourself in this kind of politics.

You may remember that at the beginning of the twenty-first chapter of Matthew, the chapter in our Gospel for today, Jesus rides into Jerusalem to the cheers of the adoring crowds. “Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord.”

That’s pretty heady stuff for a small-town boy from the sticks. Jesus appears to be quite popular on the political scene. Matthew tells us that “when he entered Jerusalem, the whole city was in turmoil” (21:10).

So, you’d think Jesus would’ve been in a better mood. Because what does he do immediately after he autographs campaign posters and kisses the babies on Palm Sunday?

Matthew says, “Then Jesus entered the temple and drove out all who were selling and buying in the temple, and he overturned the tables of the money changers” (21:12).

Where does that come from? It looks like Jesus has revolution on his mind.

Why?

In large part because the Temple operated as a religious front for the Roman procurator, Pilate. So when Jesus turned over the money changers’ table, it was a symbolic slap in the face to the Temple elite and the political system that let them thrive.

Then, if raining on the Temple Bingo night wasn’t bad enough, the next morning, hungry, Jesus sees a fig tree. He’s going to get a little something to tide him over until breakfast. But alas, he’s found the Charlie Brown fig tree—all spindly and fruitless.

In what looks like a fit of pique, Jesus curses the tree, confounding the disciples. “What’s his problem? Why’s he so mad at that poor little fig tree? We thought things were going pretty well. If yesterday’s parade is any indication, we’re trending upward in the key battleground states. Jesus, you ought to be happy. Why so cranky?”

So, Jesus goes to the temple a second time. You can imagine the disciples shooting each other anxious looks. “We just did this. And if memory serves, we didn’t make any friends. Let’s don’t go back there right now. We should wait until the temple goon squad cools off.”

And they’re right. A bit annoyed by yesterday’s outburst at the temple, the religious leaders ask Jesus, “By what authority are you doing these things, and who gave you this authority?” (21:23). He refuses to tell them what they ask.

Still, he does agree to tell them some parables.

Our passage for this morning is the second of these parables—listed among the parables of judgment. And having witnessed Jesus’ mood, we’re not at all surprised they're classified that way.

But why the sudden mood change—from triumph on Sunday to judgment on Monday?

I suspect it has something to do with Jesus’ political instincts. While everybody in his entourage sees only palm branches and victory parades, Jesus knows by their reaction that they’ve misunderstood what his ministry is all about. They see inaugural galas, but he sees controversy and plummeting polling data.

Why?

Because Jesus seems to be the only one aware that he’s not running an election campaign, telling voters what they want to hear, so they’ll vote for him. He realizes his job is telling the truth—and we all know how hard it is to get anywhere in politics if you happen to be overly attached to the truth.