Some commentators interpret this story as Jesus poking back at the scribes for asking him that whole “Which one’s the best command?” question.
I don’t, for two reasons. One is Mark sets the story in a new location, “in temple,” implying the last couple stories weren’t in temple. Time had passed, and other things had been taught, between then and this.
The other is Jesus is kind. Yes, he pokes. But he doesn’t poke back. He tries to make us think, but not as punishment or revenge for anything we did. Yes, the scribes’ ideas of Messiah were wrong; too simplistic. But nobody at the time, not even Jesus’s students, understood Messiah correctly. Jesus wasn’t trying to “expose [the scribes] as false teachers,” as one commentator put it. Nor take them down a peg. He only meant to stretch his listeners.
Jesus
once said in reply, while he taught in temple,“Why do the scribes say Messiah is David’s son? By the Holy Spirit, David himself said,
‘The Lord said to my master,
“Sit at my right
till I put your enemies beneath your feet.”’
David himself called him ‘master.’ How is Messiah his son?”The large crowd enjoyed listening to
Jesus .—
“Christ means savior.”
Many Christians have been taught, wrongly, that Christ or Messiah mean “savior.” It’s a pretty simple mix-up, actually: The name Jesus means “savior,” and more than likely someone mixed up Jesus’s name with his title, and gave the wrong definition for the wrong word. Messiah and Christ mean “anointed,” and was a traditional title for the king of Israel. Son of David was likewise a traditional title for the king, since the kings of Jerusalem were mostly descendants of King David. So while we Christians recognize Jesus as the King of Kings and Lord of Lords, we don’t always make the connection that Christ Jesus means King Jesus.
Sometimes this disconnect is because most people nowadays live in democracies: We have no king, or our kings are ceremonial and don’t directly rule over us the way ancient kings did. We aren’t used to kings. Ultimately that’s a good thing, ’cause I guarantee you Jesus’s style of kingship is gonna look much different from that of earthly kings. His rule won’t be ceremonial. But neither will it be with no regard for his subjects’ well-being: It’ll only regard our well-being.
A king like David?
Now, the ancient Jews were used to earthly kings: To them, democracy was something the Greeks and Romans had tried years ago, and it didn’t work, which is why they now had kings and emperors. They were used to the Caesars holding the power of life and death over them, and the Herods doing likewise over the territories they ruled. They didn’t imagine any other type of ruler. They only imagined differences: The promised Messiah would be a benevolent ruler, whereas the current kings, whom Messiah would overthrow, were selfish and corrupt and inept and unrighteous and less powerful.
So this expectation of a king who was like existing kings, yet better, was what the Jews had in mind whenever they referred to Messiah or the Son of David: They were anticipating a political ruler. They were expecting a successor of King David, who’d be righteous like King David (preferably more righteous), who’d defeat their enemies like King David, who’d worship the LORD and be after God’s own heart like King David. Basically, they wanted King David. Only better.
But while this David-successor would be more righteous than David, he’d still only be a David-successor. To the Jews’ minds, he’d be less than David, simply because he was David’s descendant. The Jews had this deeply embedded mindset that older is better. It applied to wine; it applied to traditions, which is why the Pharisees were so intent on calling their 50-year-old teachings “the tradition of the elders,” and suggest the real truth was their traditions stretched back to Moses’s day. (They didn’t, but the idea of an oral Law which interprets the written Law, handed down from scribe to scribe to the present day, is a fiction Jews still teach.) The more ancient a family was, the greater it was; the longer a custom was practiced, the better it was; the older a story, the more revered it should be.
Our own culture goes to the other extreme, and insists newer is better. But both ideas are wrong. Goodness has nothing to do with age. It has to do with practicality: If the old does the job better than the new, use the old. And vice-versa.
King David wasn’t greater than the coming Messiah. And David himself knew this. David lived in a time before this older-is-better mindset had set in. It’s why he could suggest the rather new idea of building the LORD a temple, rather than stick with the then-400-year-old custom of worshiping the LORD in a tent. It’s why he could move his capital from Hebron to Jerusalem, or pick Solomon as his successor instead of his oldest son Adonijah. It’s why he could say, in Psalm 110, that the coming Messiah was his master: He could foresee his successor would be his better.
The people enjoyed Jesus.
Certain commentators love to read their own unhealthy attitudes into the bible. They like to think of this passage as Jesus mischievously throwing a theological grenade at the Pharisees. For that matter, they like to think of themselves as “sticking it to the Man” whenever they teach something which goes against the popular understanding of the bible. Even though the popular understanding is hardly the correct one.
And this is the reason they think Jesus was popular with the crowds at that time. They expect he was surrounded by admirers who were hoping they might be there, to see for themselves, whenever Jesus “stuck it to the Man.” You know, like the way Socrates’s followers were hoping they’d watch their favorite Athenian gadfly take apart anyone who assumed they knew something: One interview with Socrates would expose every flaw in their reasoning, and the kids just loved watching Socrates “stick it to the Man.” (Although most of the reason the Athenians banned Socrates was because he’d take a swipe at everyone, just for fun.)
So that’s their interpretation for why “the large crowd enjoyed listening to Jesus”: They wanted to watch Jesus demolish his rhetorical opponents. They wanted to watch the Pharisees and Sadducees and scribes get taken down a few pegs. They thought these folks were hypocrites too, and liked watching Jesus expose them as frauds and fools. “You think you’re better’n me? You ain’t better’n me. Show ’em, Jesus.”
Mark gives no motive for why the crowds enjoyed Jesus. More than likely it’s because Jesus was an excellent, patient teacher, who had many memorable things to say—not the least of which is how the Kingdom of God was for them, and not just for people who think we have our act together.
And more than likely, it’s because they knew Jesus to be the Son of David. If the guy who’s about to free your people shows up, and he turns out to be a decent public speaker, you’re gonna like him too. Even if he’s not the best orator you’ve ever heard. Look at the way people cheer like crazy for politicians who run for President: These same people hear much better public speaking every Sunday morning at church, but they’re thrilled to listen to their candidates, for these people are (they believe) gonna rescue the country! In the same way, the Judeans were glad to listen to Jesus, because they got to see and hear Messiah before (they expected) he took his throne. It’s a thrill.
But sticking it to the Man? Again, that’s the commentators’ motives. Not Jesus’s. He didn’t need to do that. He wasn’t trying to sabotage the leadership of Judea, like a revolutionary, hoping to knock it over, then stage a coup d’etat in the chaos. The Son of Man comes in the clouds of heaven, his invading army with him, and takes his rightful place as Lord of all. He doesn’t have to undermine a thing. His wrong-headed followers might think we do, but his right-headed followers seek harmony, not chaos; repentance, not overthrow. We don’t trash the planet which Jesus intends to rule, murder the people he intends to redeem, or break the hearts he comes to heal. We gently correct. Or we should, anyway, like Jesus does.