John 2:13-22
What does Jesus look like in the image in your mind? In spite of the fact that Jesus was Jewish, and therefore of Semitic race, many of us have images of Jesus as fairly light-skinned, with blue eyes. In spite of the fact that Jesus lived during a time when bathing was not done frequently, still most of us view him with shoulder-length clean shiny hair and a well-trimmed beard. And in spite of the fact that Jesus traveled by foot through dry, dusty lands, in our mind’s eye, his robes are always Clorox-clean.
In my opinion, these images in our minds are partly the fault of a man named Warner Sallman. I’m guessing that most of you have seen copies of his painting called “Head of Christ.” Pocket card versions of it were given to U.S. soldiers during World War II, and I’m sure it was a comfort to true believers and fox-hole Christians alike. It also was brilliant marketing. Soon the image was in thousands of homes and Sunday school classrooms across America. I used to work for the company that owns the copyright, and they say the image has been reproduced well over 500 million times.
It’s a pretty image, a comforting image, a nice safe image of Jesus. This Jesus was meek and mild. This Jesus would never be rude. This Jesus would never smell. This Jesus would never … have been recognized by those who actually knew him.
In reality, Jesus called those who opposed him “white-washed tombs full of dead men’s bones.” In reality, Jesus called one of his closest friends “Satan.” In reality, Jesus refused to see his family members when they came to visit, claiming that all who followed him were his family.
I’m not saying that Jesus wasn’t kind and compassionate and welcoming to children—I believe he was all these things. But there is another side to Jesus—the side that turns over tables and drives animals from the temple courtyard.
Imagine if something like this happened today: if someone who claimed to speak for God walked into church at the start of worship, came up onto the chancel with a sledge hammer and started destroying things. What would be the hardest to see destroyed? the organ and the grand piano? the lectern and pulpit? What if he also tore down the cross, a primary symbol of our faith? What if he destroyed the baptismal font, where hundreds of our babies have been welcomed into the church?
Can we go back to the Warner Sallman image of Jesus, please? I’m suddenly liking him more.
This story is in all four gospels. I wish I were preaching from one of the other three today because they all quote Jesus as saying, “It is written, ‘My house shall be called a house of prayer,’ but you have made it a den of robbers.” In the other three Gospels it seems clear that Jesus was angry because the sacrificial system had become corrupt.
In Jesus’ time, all Jews in the region were required to go to Jerusalem for at least one of the three high holy days, and usually that visit required a sacrifice. When you add up the cost of the temple tax (which was 2 days wages), the money changer’s fee for converting your currency into temple shekels (1 days wage) and the cost of the sacrifice (ranging from 2 days wage to 40 days wage) the cost for the high holy day could be exorbitant. One scholar says in today’s economy, a day at the temple could cost $3000-$4000.[1] How would you feel if attending church this morning cost you $4000? (At least you’d only have to come once a year!)
According to Matthew, Mark, and Luke, this is what Jesus was angry about. Jesus went to the temple to celebrate a holy day, and instead of encountering the sacred, he encountered corruption and greed. Those with authority abused their power, shady deals ruled the day, and the average citizen paid the price.
Sound familiar? That’s why I wish I were preaching on one of these other Gospels today. For a justice-seeking, peace-loving UCC congregation like ours, that sermon practically writes itself! Unfortunately, the Gospel According to John leaves out that detail. John’s Jesus just says “Stop making my Father’s house a marketplace!”
The problem is, with the system of the day, it had to be. The temple had to contain a marketplace. People needed a place to purchase animals for sacrifice; they needed a place to exchange their currency. So if John’s Jesus isn’t condemning the corruption, is he condemning the entire system?
Well, I think the answer is “yes” and “no.” We find a hint to this earlier in the same chapter. Right before this story we have the story of the wedding at Cana. When the hosts ran out of wine, Jesus told the servants to take some water jars and fill them with water, and then he turned the water into wine. But these weren’t just random jars sitting around. These jars were set aside for purification rituals, for a holy purpose. It doesn’t appear that Jesus was making a statement against purification rituals. But he was demonstrating that some things are more important than ritual. “Turning the water into wine was not a rejection of Jewish purification rituals, but instead showed how God was bringing something new, deeper, and richer out of Judaism and God’s covenant with the people of Israel. By cleansing the temple (getting rid of the moneychangers and the animal sellers), Jesus is, again, not ridding the temple of Judaism. He is, instead, ridding the temple of the practices that are separating people from the heart of Judaism.”[2]
I don’t know about you, but that makes me just a tad nervous. Oh, I’m ready for Jesus to turn over the tables of the televangelists who talk poor senior citizens into sending in their retirement savings in exchange for prayers. I’m ready for Jesus to send the coins flying from the tables of the predatory lenders. I’m ready for Jesus to turn over the desks of those who deny assistance to hungry people. I’m ready for Jesus …
As I wrote this sermon, I paused there, searching for the next line. And suddenly it hit me. I’m ready for Jesus. Whew. Am I really? Am I ready for the Jesus who is not the blond-hair, blue-eyed, well-groomed image of my childhood? Am I ready for the Jesus who turns peoples’ worlds upside down? Because Jesus is not predictable. God is not predictable. I don’t get to say, “Turn the tables on that person who did me wrong.” I don’t get to determine what tables are turned over, including the table I have my elbows on.
This table of the status quo upon which I so comfortably lean … This table of chosen ignorance where I so easily hide … This table of complacency from which I claim, “That’s the way it’s always been; I can’t do anything to change it.” … This table of arrogance that supports me in my belief that I am always right. All of these tables could be turned upside down with one swipe. The things I claim to sacrifice to God but which really cost me nothing? My self-centered, self-sufficient, self-indulgent tendencies? If that’s what keeps me from being close to God, it’s all fair game.
One of the reasons we like pictures like Sallman’s portrait of Jesus is because that Jesus looks safe and predictable and unthreatening. One of the reasons stained glass windows in churches rarely show Jesus cleansing the temple is because we don’t want our own temples cleansed.
But here’s the thing: If we don’t submit to the cleansing, we will never know what “deeper, richer” thing God might want to bring about. If we don’t allow the cleansing of what shouldn’t be at the center, we might never learn what should be.
Although John’s telling of this story doesn’t include the “den of robbers” part, it does include something else. Jesus says to the religious leaders: “Destroy this temple, and in three days I will raise it up.” The Jews then said, “This temple has been under construction for forty-six years, and will you raise it up in three days?” But he was speaking of the temple of his body. The temple was understood as God’s dwelling place … not that God isn’t everywhere, but this is where the people had specifically and repeatedly encountered God. In essence, Jesus was saying: “The temple was God’s dwelling place, but now I am God’s dwelling place.” And once Jesus left, we became the body of Christ which means we became God’s dwelling place.
And that’s not all. In the phrase “Destroy this temple and in three days I will raise it up” the word translated as “destroy” actually means “to loose” – to loosen, to set free, to liberate. And if we, as the church, are God’s dwelling place, God’s temple, then that means we are the ones to be set free—not as individuals, but as the church. What if Jesus was saying “Liberate this sanctuary, and I’ll elevate it in three days!”[3] Liberate this sanctuary from traditions that no longer serve us. Liberate this sanctuary from memories that do not strengthen us. Liberate this sanctuary from budget woes. Liberate this sanctuary from worries about numbers and demographics.
We just need to be willing to turn over a few tables.
[1] “Consuming Zeal: The Character of God and His People.” www.onefamilyoutreach.com.
[2] http://revgalblogpals.org/2014/01/13/narrative-lectionary-clean-up-your-act-edition/
[3] http://leftbehindandlovingit.blogspot.com