David's Son, David's Lord
Jesus on Psalm 110
When Jesus enters Jerusalem, the crowds hail Him as the Son of David. “Hosanna to the Son of David! Hosanna in the highest! Blessed is He who comes in the name of the Lord.”
The Jewish leaders are offended. “Do you hear what the children are saying about you?” they demand of Jesus. “You should silence them.”
Through the following week, they gather – they synagogue – around Jesus, twice (Matt 22:34, 41), like the nations that clamor against the Lord and His anointed (Psa 2:2; LXX, synago). The Jewish leaders have become rebel goyim opposed to the King whom Yahweh sets on Zion.
That cry of praise and the Jews’ indignation hovers in the background all the way to the final dispute (Matt 22:41-46). It’s explicitly about the Son of David, explicitly about a Psalm, though Psalm 110 rather than Psalm 2.
The Jews have set multiiple traps for Jesus. Now Jesus sets a counter trap. “Whose son is the Christ?” He asks. “David’s,” they rightly answer.
But Psalm 110 complicates things. David writes the Psalm, but the Psalm says, Yahweh said to my Lord. Yahweh is the name of the God of Israel. But to whom He is speaking? He’s speaking to someone David calls “my Lord.” Who is this Lord beside the Lord, the Lord to whom the Lord speaks and swears, the Lord who is David’s Lord and yet different from Lord Yahweh?
The riddle is more puzzling in Greek, where both Yahweh and “lord” are rendered by kurios: The kurios said to my kurios. Lord speaks to Lord, Yahweh to Yahweh, as if there were two Yahwehs. But every Jew confesses, “Yahweh our God, Yahweh is one!”
If kurios Yahweh seats this other kurios at His right hand, that other lords must be King. He’s the same King installed in Zion in Psalm 2, the King on Zion. He’s the Messianic King, which means He must be David’s son.
But how can David’s son also be David’s lord? Fathers are heads of their sons, not sons of their fathers. Somehow the son becomes Lord.
Jesus’ question stymies the Jews. They can’t answer Him, and they break off asking questions. They don’t have the categories to grapple with a double kurios, even though it’s right there in one of their own Psalms. The battle in the temple ends. Instead of besting Jesus, they decide to get rid of Him. If you can’t answer someone, kill Him.
It’s not just that they don’t have the categories. This isn’t a dispute about the interpretation of an ancient Psalm. It’s not just a piece of theology. It’s a dispute about the identity of Jesus, who has been acclaimed as David’s son.
Jesus accepts the title “David’s son,” and now He points out that David himself acknowledges his son as his Lord, master, and king. Jesus identifies Himself as the Lord to whom the Lord speaks. Which means if the Jewish leaders don’t bow, they rebel against David himself.
Psalm 110 casts light on the entire series of battles in the temple, the palace of Israel’s High King. If Psalm 110 speaks about Jesus, it also speaks about the Pharisees, Sadducees, Herodians. Jesus casts His Jewish enemies as enemies of David’s Lord.
The same thing will happen at the cross. The Jews who mock Jesus are acting out the script of Psalm 22. In spite of themselves, their mockery confirms that Jesus is who the children say He is: David’s son, David’s Lord.
Jesus also declares victory. Even while His enemies synagogue around Him, He reigns. Even when they attack Him, He’s making them a footstool beneath His feet. His victory doesn’t wait until His enemies disappear. He’s victorious in the midst of His enemies.
Psalm 110 comes to fulfillment before the Jews’ eyes, and to their dismay they’re sucked into the drama. Jesus tramples them underfoot, just as David predicted. Turns out, the kids were right all along. “Hosanna to the Son of David. Hosanna to David’s conquering Lord.”