I'm not saying that our imagery is necessarily off track. Maybe Jesus was also a well-known horse-whisperer. But what I am saying is that we are frequently inclined to make nice of our holy readings. We want to get the best possible camera shot for our marketing video. We don't want Jesus to be humiliated, or discounted, or worse yet, to be thought of as some kind of a zealot. We know that some cult groups have made Jesus to sound like a raving lunatic, and we can't have a lunatic as head of the decent, orderly Presbyterian tribe. We want the Jesus who spoke of love and kindness, fished for people off a scenic lakeshore, and offered the healing touch of soft words to hardened hearts.

Although we want this kind of Jesus, sometimes we don't get this kind of Jesus. I suspect that the palm-waving, coat-throwing parade was more of a spectacle than a somber religious pilgrimage. Could Jesus have been bucked off his young colt? With that much going on, and crowds pressing in on either side -- I don't doubt it. An animal that's never been ridden might have refused the bit, fallen over from the weight, kicked, bucked, refused to be pulled forward -- any number of things the rodeo-goer pays good money to see. And the crowds, were they sympathetic to Jesus' message or taunting him with words of scripture? Either maybe, both perhaps. Did the disciples help Jesus through this event or stay pretty far away? We don't know.

What we are told is that by the time this is all over, it is late in the day. Jesus entered Jerusalem, stopped for a very brief moment in the temple, and turned around to head back. Fatigued, all he wanted to do was go to Bethany where he knew some friends to stay with for the night. At his cue, the twelve go with him.

Generally speaking, our story would end here. We would celebrate that Jesus has come at last to the holy city. With his ministry in the country complete, he goes to Jerusalem to bring his good news of salvation to the temple, the seat of God's favor. But it's late. The day has grown long. Sore from the ride, exhausted by the crowds, the celebration seems less of a celebration at this hour. No one welcomes him at the temple door. No one offers he and his companions lodging for the night. No one, even after this parade has happened, invites them in for some wine. The revelry is over.

In Mark's gospel, Matthew's too, the next day doesn't start off so well, which makes me think that the comment made about riding a "never been ridden" colt might be right on target. Jesus' temper is such that the soreness in his backside seems quite apparent. He's walking back to Jerusalem with his friends and finds himself incredibly hungry. In the distance, he sees a fig tree in leaf (not in its fruitful time since it isn't that season) but he goes up to it hoping to God to find something to eat. He doesn't. The fig tree simply doesn't have any fruit -- so he curses it. This isn't your father's "the lawnmower isn't starting" kind of curse; it's not your mother's "get ready right this instant" kind of curse. This is all the most-awful words you can think of and then some kind of curse. Jesus lets this tree have it so that at its very root it's petrified from ever, ever producing any shred of life ever again. It is the big mama of all curses!

Jesus is not the type of guy where they said before they rolled the rock into place at his grave, "He never said an unkind word to anyone." These two days of Jesus' life have been recorded the same way twice and in conjunction with the ransacking of the temple three times, so that what we now know as the Palm Sunday story is tied to some rather unpleasant scriptural moments. The cursing of the fig tree seems to have no place in this story or in any story of the "Savior" of the human race. It seems rather petty, but then again, take it in context. Jesus is not oblivious to what's coming next. He has left the comfort of preaching the good news in the backwoods and the hollers where people's lives are being helped by his ideas. He's about to tear down the house in Jerusalem. What was good news in Galilee is now a threat in the city. He's had a taste for it already. There were spies from the temple sent to trip him up with their questions on more than one occasion. They thought he was speaking blasphemy, and there would be no way he could convince them otherwise. It was time to take on the powers.

His eyes must have been on fire when he entered the temple in Jerusalem. A fighting colt, a fruitless fig tree would now be just examples of the stubbornness to come. He used whips to drive out those who were selling their wares, and he called them a "den of robbers." The chief priests and scribes heard it all. They knew that their greed had been discovered. They knew that their secret accumulation of power and wealth would be secret no longer. Unchecked, this rebel could cause a true and brutal uprising that would destroy all of Jerusalem. There was no choice. They must find a way to kill him. Those who welcomed him with palm branches were fickle nobodies. A rumor here, a speculation there, and the crowd shouting "Hosanna" would quickly turn to shouting, "Crucify him."

Is this the Jesus we know and love? Probably not. We don't even want to admit that this Jesus is our Jesus. We split up the story in our lectionary. We find ways for justifying Jesus' anger as "that was then, this is now." We choose to honor the passages of scripture that lift us up, and vehemently deny those passages that might bring the needed whips and ransacking barreling through our own pews. We tell stories of meek donkeys and singing children, and ignore the words that would throw us off in another direction.

But Jesus' anger was real, and it meant business. It called into question the very nature of our relationship with God and our relationship with God's emissaries here on earth. We are, as members of Christian churches, the same faces that were the faces of the priests, the faces of the scribes, those who might be known as the keepers of tradition. Are we threatened by Jesus, the real Jesus, who might ask us to be accountable to God alone? Are we like those in the crowds who shift our positions quickly from celebrating Jesus' arrival in our lives to crucifying those parts of Jesus we can't quite claim as our own? Or can we go it along with the disciples, mired with doubt, girded by some sort of faith, ever seeking to understand the complexities of this man who was torn by his relationships and responsibilities both to God and to humanity?

In order for us to understand the events honored and celebrated over the coming week, we must be able to glimpse why people wanted to kill him and why we might want to kill him ourselves. If we see Jesus as a nice guy that everyone liked, we will surely miss the point. Jesus was consumed with a life that would not let him go. He had no choice but to make enemies as he followed out his life's mission. To bring people back to God, he had to shatter their idolatries that were the securities they had grown to love in place of God. We too have built temples to ourselves that must come down.

So pray. Pray this week for the love of Jesus that rides the stubborn mule in each of us. Pray for the love of Jesus that curses the parts of us that no longer bear fruit. Pray for the love of Jesus to ravage our church, ridding us of the ways we make the house of the holy a refuge for gossip, lies, and deceit. Pray that the love of Jesus is not just what makes us feel good, but is that which purifies us by fire. Amen.