Mark 11:12
Verse 12 of 33. The 11th of 16 chapters in Mark, in The Gospels.
8And many spread their garments in the way: and others cut down branches off the trees, and strawed them in the way.
9And they that went before, and they that followed, cried, saying, Hosanna; Blessed is he that cometh in the name of the Lord:
10Blessed be the kingdom of our father David, that cometh in the name of the Lord: Hosanna in the highest.
11And Jesus entered into Jerusalem, and into the temple: and when he had looked round about upon all things, and now the eventide was come, he went out unto Bethany with the twelve.
12And on the morrow, when they were come from Bethany, he was hungry:
13And seeing a fig tree afar off having leaves, he came, if haply he might find any thing thereon: and when he came to it, he found nothing but leaves; for the time of figs was not yet.
14And Jesus answered and said unto it, No man eat fruit of thee hereafter for ever. And his disciples heard it.
15And they come to Jerusalem: and Jesus went into the temple, and began to cast out them that sold and bought in the temple, and overthrew the tables of the moneychangers, and the seats of them that sold doves;
16And would not suffer that any man should carry any vessel through the temple.
Mark 11:12 in the World English Bible
The next day, when they had come out from Bethany, he was hungry.Read Mark 11:12 in the WEB
Matthew Henry on Mark 11:12
He had a convenient resting-place at Bethany, and therefore thither he went at resting-time; but his work lay at Jerusalem, and thither therefore he returned in the morning, at working-time; and so intent was he upon his work, that he went out from Bethany without breakfast, which, before he was gone far, he found the want of, and was hungry (v. 12), for he was subject to all the sinless infirmities of our nature.
Read Matthew Henry on Mark 11:12–26: The Barren Fig-Tree Cursed.
Pray Mark 11:12 with someone reading it aloud.
Start praying with Pray.comKing James Version. Public domain. Set as prose throughout, including the poetry, because the text is published to us without its lines.