Dear friends,
I pray, in the midst of the struggle, there are countless joys lifting your spirits. I give thanks to God for you and for the abundant grace God showers upon us as we walk this Lenten road together.
Today’s worship service in its entirety may be viewed here:
If you’d prefer to listen to only the gospel reading and sermon, you may do so here:
Today’s sermon is based on John 2:13-22.
13The Passover of the Jews was near, and Jesus went up to Jerusalem. 14In the temple he found people selling cattle, sheep, and doves, and the money changers seated at their tables. 15Making a whip of cords, he drove all of them out of the temple, both the sheep and the cattle. He also poured out the coins of the money changers and overturned their tables. 16He told those who were selling the doves, “Take these things out of here! Stop making my Father’s house a marketplace!” 17His disciples remembered that it was written, “Zeal for your house will consume me.”
18The Jews then said to him, “What sign can you show us for doing this?” 19Jesus answered them, “Destroy this temple, and in three days I will raise it up.” 20The Jews then said, “This temple has been under construction for forty-six years, and will you raise it up in three days?” 21But he was speaking of the temple of his body. 22After he was raised from the dead, his disciples remembered that he had said this; and they believed the scripture and the word that Jesus had spoken.
Beloved of God, grace and peace to you in the name of Jesus. Amen.
There was a time when Facebook would seem to regularly remind me how many posts I had loved throughout the year. Then, I think, they must have caught on to the fact that I respond to most everything with the heart reaction button. Occasionally, there’s reason for the sadness button. And with the advent of the care button, I’ve been using that one more and more. I seldom just like something, as that doesn’t seem sufficient.
And there’s one button that I have probably only used a handful of times in the years I’ve been on Facebook. Yes, you guessed it: the anger button, that red face with the downcast, narrowed eyes and the grimacing frown.
If anything, there have been more times where I’ve accidentally hit that angry face and had to quickly correct my error. Heaven forbid anyone should think I was angry at what they had shared. Heaven forbid anyone should think I was ever angry, period.
But over the course of this week I’ve been sitting with our gospel reading for today. I’ve been paying attention to the anger Jesus displayed in the temple that day. I’ve been wondering how I would have reacted if I had been there to witness the scene. And if I’m honest with myself, I know exactly how I would have reacted: my heart would have been racing, I would have been afraid, I probably would have started crying…because anger, even justified anger, righteous anger, causes that fight or flight or freeze reaction to well up in me and I am always, always going to want to flee.
And when the dust has settled and my breathing has slowed, I might be able to appreciate the courage that it took for that person in question (Jesus, in this case) to do what needed to be done, to say what needed to be said. I might even be able to see the uprising as an invitation for me to consider my own complicity in systems that cause harm, a call to lend my own voice to the cause.
Or, again, being honest here, I might look, even at Jesus, and wonder if he couldn’t have chosen a nicer way to proceed. Couldn’t he have rallied more people if he had used a soft voice and a gentle touch? What good did it do for him to get so angry?
I don’t know. What good did it do? In Matthew, Mark, and Luke, this incident in the temple happens closer to the time of Jesus’ death; it becomes one of the primary reasons Jesus is seen as a threat to the powers that be and therefore needing to be silenced, needing to be crucified.
But in the gospel of John, this scene in the temple happens so early on in Jesus’ ministry. He has just performed his first sign, turning water into wine at the wedding in Cana. And I can’t imagine that anyone responded to that with the anger reaction button. I bet there were hearts and thumbs up all over the place that day, because here was one who showed the abundance of life in God, who kept the party going, who saved the hosts of the wedding celebration from shame and disgrace, who, with this sign, lifted up joy as resistance, joy as a sign of the presence of God. Who doesn’t love that?
Jesus could have kept on performing signs like this. He could have led his disciples to believe that following him would be easy, that there would always be a welcome reception for what they had to bring, what they had to offer. Instead, Jesus goes to the temple where his disciples watch as his zeal for God’s house—his zeal for God’s people—leads him to demonstrate, to protest, to overturn tables and shout, Stop! Stop making my Father’s house a marketplace. Stop investing in this system that puts profit before people, keeping the poor outside the gates of the temple (Debie Thomas, Journey with Jesus). Stop separating your worship from the rest of your life; stop thinking you’ve done enough by simply showing up; stop elevating this place above all the other places where God is alive and at work and present in the world. In fact, destroy this temple, and in three days I will raise it up.
The true temple is Jesus himself. The dwelling place of God is the body of Christ.
What good does it do for Jesus to get angry? To speak the hard truth? To upset the way things had always been done? It paves the way. Jesus paves the way for a church—the body of Christ risen and at work in the world today—to have the courage and the conviction to overturn every last table where all are not welcome, every last table that puts profit over people, every last table that refuses to see God’s presence in all of creation.
It’s not the Jesus with whom I’m the most comfortable. But it’s the Jesus we need.
And so, this week, I responded to a Facebook post with anger. I read an article, posted by a friend, about Ithaca College, where a Climate Action Group has been working passionately, and across disciplines, to launch a Center for Climate Justice where students seeking engagement with the climate crisis could be equipped with tools to envision a renewable future and make it so. But now, both faculty co-chairs of the Climate Action Group are now among those losing their jobs as a consequence of Academic Program Prioritization—at least nine professors who teach some aspect of the climate crisis are on the chopping block.
And I can just hear Jesus. Stop putting profit over investment in God’s good creation, so in need of a renewable future.
It requires so very little of me—nothing, really—to click on that angry reaction button. But it will cost me—it will cost us—to follow Jesus in expressing anger at injustices. It will cost us to wrestle with our own reactions to an angry Jesus.
Debi Thomas writes, Jesus interrupts ‘business as usual’ for the sake of justice and holiness. He interrupts worship as usual for the sake of justice and holiness. His love for God, the temple, and its people compels him to righteous anger. If we ourselves are temples—holy places where heaven and earth meet—then what would it be like to work, as Jesus does, to preserve and protect all bodies, all holy places, all temples, from every form of irreverence and desecration? What would it be like to decide that our highest calling as Christians is not to niceness?
After the water is turned to wine, John tells us that the disciples of Jesus believed in him.
After Jesus erupts with righteous anger in the temple, John tells us that it wasn’t until after Jesus was raised from the dead, that his disciples remembered what he had said about destroying the temple and raising it up in three days. It wasn’t until after Jesus was raised from the dead, that the disciples believed the scripture and the word that Jesus had spoken.
We are on the other side of the resurrection. Even in this season of Lent, as we journey toward the cross, we know how the story ends. We know the life Jesus lived, the anger he expressed for the sake of justice, the hard truths he demonstrated in word and in deed, have been lifted up by the God of heaven and earth.
We know that the way of Jesus is the way of the body of Christ today, in this time and in this place, where there are still tables to be overturned and wrongs to be made right, where the church is not a building, but the gathered people of God with a collective voice for welcome, and freedom, and a future with hope for all God’s beloved creation.
God, give us courage.
Amen.
*It is well worth your time to read Debie Thomas’ entire reflection here.
**You may read the article about Ithaca College here.