The Third Sunday in Lent

The readings for this Sunday can be found here.

The gospel reading for this coming Sunday—the account of Jesus cleansing the Temple—is told in all four gospels. On the essentials of the story, all four storytellers are agreed. 

But as with any story that gets told from four different angles, there are going to be some differences as well. Most significant is the question about when this actually happened? In the synoptic memory it happens in Holy Week: in Matthew and Luke it’s on the same day that Jesus enters the city, on the afternoon of what we would call Palm Sunday. In Mark’s Gospel it’s on the following day—the Monday of Holy Week. In all three cases, in other words, this happens at the end of Jesus earthly life. You could even make the case that it is a precipitating factor in the conflict between Jesus and the temple authorities that leads to his crucifixion. 

Yet as we hear the story from John, notice that we are only at the second chapter of his Gospel, very much at the beginning of Jesus’ public ministry and on the heels of Jesus first miracle at Cana, in Galilee. In John’s Gospel, Jesus makes several annual pilgrimages to Jerusalem over the course of his unfolding three-year ministry, and this conflict comes right at the very beginning of that first pilgrimage.  

Now you can resolve this by saying that Jesus cleansed the temple twice. But that seems pretty unlikely. Most likely, from an historical perspective, it is probably John who has the timing wrong. But as is John's style, he's far more interested in theology than history. What John is doing with this story is putting Jesus in complete control of the narrative, and suggesting that Jesus is picking a fight very early in his ministry; that he’s drawing a line in the sand from day one. Like the miracle in Cana, it sets the tone for all that is to come.

It’s not a big deal to decide what "really" happened. What is a much bigger deal from our distance in time is that John unfortunately and consistently uses this phrase “the Jews” in his narrative. In Matthew, Mark, and Luke, Jesus is taking on the chief priests, the scribes, and the elders. In other words, Jesus is challenging the religious establishment in Jerusalem—the powers-that-be. In context it’s pretty clear that John means exactly what Matthew and Mark and Luke do: after all Jesus is a Jew and so are his followers and many others. John doesn’t mean all first-century Jews (and he certainly doesn’t mean all twenty-first century Jews.) That should go without saying, but Christian anti-Semitism is alive and well so it must be said; it's not being politically correct, it's being accurate. This is not about why Jews are bad and Christians are good; it’s about a danger that is inherent in all human worship. And yet because of the history that followed, the words are jarring and it raises the very same issues raised by certain images in certain books by Dr. Seuss. 

Model of the Second Temple (Israel Museum)

Most of us probably don’t carry around in our heads a picture of what the Temple in Jerusalem was like. But if you ever get the chance, go to the Israel Museum where I snapped the picture shown on the right and that will change! We need to remember that it’s not the same as a synagogue or a church in terms of its reason for being. It’s a whole complex with courtyards and lots of activity going on. The animals are supposed to be there, and not for a Feast of St. Francis blessing! They are there for the purpose of being purchased and sacrificed. Remember what it says in the first chapters of the Book of Leviticus? That part of the Torah is about making burnt offerings to the Lord. When Jesus was born, at the time of his mother’s purification, Mary and Joseph and Jesus travel to Jerusalem to offer the sacrifice according to the Law. (That’s Leviticus again!) They needed to sacrifice “a pair of turtledoves or two young pigeons” and they go and do just that. (Luke 2:24b; Leviticus 12:2-8)

The money-changers are also there for a reason. The commandments make it clear that there can be no god but God alone. Yet the Roman coins—the imperial denarii—had the head of Caesar on them. And they didn’t say “in God we trust.” In fact they said that Caesar was Lord. So imagine traveling from a place like Galilee and you come to Jerusalem purchase an ox or a sheep or a pigeon or a turtle-dove. You aren’t supposed to pay with a Roman coin in the Temple, so you need to make an exchange—just like changing into a foreign currency. You trade in your denarii for shekels which don’t violate the commandment. Then you can buy your animal and make your sacrifice according to the Law of Moses. And then you go home and life goes on.

In 70 AD the Romans destroyed this Temple and all that is left of it is the supporting structure for the Western Wall, the Wailing Wall. Judaism changed radically after the destruction of the Temple. The point is that we need to have some sense of this historical background if we are to make sense of what is unfolding. I’ve heard people say that this text shows Jesus was human because he is angry. And yes, Jesus is fully human, and yes, Jesus gets angry. But it’s not the main point of this text.

I’ve heard people say that the moneychangers were charging a high premium for the service they provided or that Jesus is attacking Jewish legalism. But Jesus doesn’t seem to be attacking abuses in the system only, but the whole system and the whole underlying premise of the system. In a very real sense he’s taking on the whole system of sacrificial theology, not its abuses. It’s no wonder those who are invested in the System as it is get mad.  I think that the reason we don’t fully appreciate this text is that we have neglected the Old Testament, and especially the prophets. If we knew Amos or Jeremiah better, we’d have a clearer sense of what is happening here. Consider the word that came to Jeremiah from the Lord:

Stand in the gate of the Lord’s house (i.e. the Temple) and proclaim there this word and say, “hear the word of the Lord all you who enter these gates to worship the Lord. Thus says the Lord God of Israel: Amend your ways and your doings and I will let you dwell in this place. Do not trust in these deceptive words, ‘This is the temple of the Lord, the temple of the Lord, the temple of the Lord.’ For if you truly amend your ways and your doings, if you truly execute justice with one another, if you do not oppress the alien, the fatherless, or the widow, or shed innocent blood in this place and if you do not go after other gods to your own hurt, then I will let you dwell in this place… (Jeremiah 7:1-7)

Or consider Amos, the shepherd from the small Judean village of Tekoa, standing up to the temple authorities in his own day (some 750 years before the birth of Jesus.)

I hate, I despise your feasts and I take no delight in your solemn assemblies. Even though you offer me your burnt offerings and cereal offerings I will not accept them and the peace offerings of your fatted beasts I will not look at them. Take away the noise of your songs; to the melody of your harps I will not listen. But let justice roll down like waters, and righteousness like an ever-flowing stream.  (Amos 5:21-24)

To the people of Jesus’ day, these actions in the Temple (regardless of whether they happened early or late in his ministry) would have rung bells among his fellow Jews. Jesus’ actions would have reminded them of the prophets of old, of Jeremiah and Amos and others. The issue is not merely a critique of liturgical practices. It’s to say that even very good liturgy is no substitute for doing justice and loving mercy. Full stop. 

Worship is meant to point us toward God, and God consistently and relentlessly points us toward our neighbor. That is the whole of the law and the prophets: love God and love neighbor. Whether we gather in our buildings or virtually, we seek to encounter the living God, who then sends us out to participate in the mending of a broken world. We gather and then we are sent. Worship is about equipping the saints for ministry. If what we do in worship helps us to be better followers of Jesus on Monday and Tuesday then it is a good thing. If not, God takes no delight in our solemn assemblies.  

Worship is always in danger of stopping short of God and becoming a form of narcissism, a kind of self worship. But that is idolatry. And when that happens, the Church is always in danger of becoming a “marketplace.” Our vocation as God’s people is “to let justice roll down like waters and righteousness like an ever-flowing stream.” It is to care for the alien and the fatherless and the widows in our own time. Worship is meant to bring us closer to the God whose heart is breaking for the needs of the world around us, especially the needs of the most vulnerable.