Read: Matthew 21:12-17
On Holy Monday, we see two sides of Jesus that are perhaps just two sides of the same coin. In a moment of righteous anger, he flips the tables at the temple, where people were desecrating God’s holy space by selling goods. Then, in a moment of great compassion, he heals the blind and lame and stands up for the children in the temple.
Jesus was a defender. Sometimes it was more outright, like overturning tables in the temple, arguing with the religious elite, or boldly casting out demons. Sometimes it was more discreet, shown through his decisions and actions—drawing near to the outcasts of society, making friends with lowlifes like fishermen and tax collectors, and welcoming the children to come to him.
Jesus’s life and his ministry demonstrate that he cared deeply for the overlooked. He fiercely protected God’s house and God’s people. He loved without condition—no matter someone’s age, rank, job, or gender.
However, there was one thing during Holy Week that he didn’t defend: Himself.
As we’ll go on to see, Jesus was taunted by the crowds. He was mocked with a sign above his head on the cross that belittled his authority. He was questioned as the Son of God, and though he could have proven it in a million ways, he instead chose to stay silent, like a lamb being led to the slaughter. He was stripped, beaten, laughed at, betrayed, and murdered. On the cross, Jesus suffered the ultimate injustice, yet he said nothing.
He was quick to defend others.
He was equally quick to surrender himself.
The humility this required is staggering. For how quick are we to defend ourselves when we feel like we’re misunderstood, misjudged, or misrepresented? How quick are we to worry about what others think or to step in to correct an assumption, protect our image, or set the record straight?
But Jesus knew that being misunderstood isn’t the worst thing that could happen to us—being separated from God is. Thus, he went to the cross, acting as our advocate, our mediator, our defense, and our deliverer so that we would never have to know a life apart from God.
Perhaps his final acts of defending others on Holy Monday were a holy foreshadowing of the greatest thing he was defending—us. For on the cross, he was once more Jesus our Defender, this time saving the people from the death and wrath they deserve.
So, just as we have sung many times before, may the lines from this song hum in our hearts on this Holy Monday: “My one defense, my righteousness, oh God, how I need you.”