March 19, 2006
John 2.13-22
“Take these
things out here! Stop making my Father’s house
a marketplace!”
This cry is
part of the very vivid picture we have of Jesus in this morning’s Gospel.
This is not
the meek and humble Jesus some of us have come to know—this is not the gentle
and compassionate Lord who called the little children to himself.
It is,
rather, the Jesus who stands up to injustice.
It is the
Jesus who, when provoked, comes forward and cleanses the
“Take these
things out here!”
This image of
the chaotic market place, with all of its sounds and smells, is one we can
easily imagine, even today.
In this
place, the people who came to the
Foreign coins
(with their images of pagan gods and rulers) were not allowed in the
These were
then used to buy animals—usually lambs—that could be sacrificed by the
If people
brought their own animals, they were often inspected and told they were not
worthy to be sacrificed because of blemishes or defects and were often refused.
Yet, despite
the unfairness of all of this, Jews were expected to come to the
So, what we
find here is a people being abused by the religious leaders they trust.
You can see
why Jesus gets so mad over the situation.
“Take these
things out here! Stop making my Father’s house
a marketplace!”
These are
pretty strong words from Jesus.
And his
action of driving out not only the guilty money-changers, but the innocent
animals as well says a lot to us.
We no longer
have to make these sacrifices.
Jesus becomes
the ultimate Lamb—the one who was sacrificed once and for all on the altar of
the Cross.
“Take these
things out here! Stop making my Father’s house
a marketplace!”
This
Begun in
about the year 20 B.C.. (or B.C.E.), it would be destroyed by the Romans about
forty years after Jesus’ prediction.
More
immediately, when Jesus talks about rebuilding the destroyed temple in three
days, he is not talking about the building in which he stands at the moment.
Rather, he is
referring to his own resurrection.
His body—a
new and glorious
Still, we
can’t quite ignore that resounding cry:
“Take these
things out here! Stop making my Father’s house
a marketplace!”
To some
extent, this is the rallying cry for all of us during these days of Lent.
The message
for us—here and now—is not just about a building—or even this building in
particular.
It is a
message about the very
Now I’m going
to mention something we Episcopalians shy away from in the pulpit—sin.
The fact is,
we DO sin.
We are most
profoundly aware of our own sins during this season of Lent, hopefully.
Sin is, to
put it bluntly, a choice we make.
We choose to
sin—we choose to turn away from what we know is right. That is, quite simply,
what sin is.
We sin—we
chose to do wrong—in many ways.
We sin
against others, we sin against ourselves and we sin against God.
We sin
against our bodies—that
We don’t
exercise enough. We don’t eat right. We overindulge or we punish our bodies
unnecessarily. We might drink a bit too much. We might eat too much. Or we
might not eat enough.
We might have
unhealthy and unrealistic self-images.
More than
that, we are, at times, arrogant and conceited. We put ourselves first and
foremost. In a sense, we make idols of our selves.
And we sin
against each other.
We don’t
respect those people who share our lives with us.
We backbite.
We gossip. We turn away from others with a coldness and an indifference that
distances us from those around us.
We don’t
respect the worth and dignity of others.
The Quakers
teach that doing wrong to others “wounds your own soul.”
And it does.
How can we love ourselves with a holy and real love, if we don’t love others
with that same love?
And, in turn,
how can we love God with that same love if we don’t love others, or ourselves?
In a sense,
we pollute our own temples with these thoughts and actions.
We commit sacrilege
to our own temple—that very dwelling place of God—when we do these things.
This Lenten
season is a time for us to recognize that it does not have to be this way.
It is a time
for us to say to ourselves—see, I have fallen short in what I can do.
“Take these
things out here! Stop making my Father’s house
a marketplace!”
We
occasionally have to take a good, long look at ourselves and do some major
housecleaning.
Like Jesus,
we need to take up the rope and to start casting out from ourselves those
things that make dirty our own sacredness.
But the
message we can take away from this morning’s Gospel is that, sin as we may,
turn away as we might, there is always a chance for cleansing and, in doing so,
we can make right, in some way, the wrongs we have done.
The season of
Lent isn’t a time for us to beat ourselves up over what we have done wrong.
It is a time for
us to recognize our failures and to make an attempt to do better.
It is a time
to take joy and delight in the fact that God dwells within each and every one of
us.
This divine
Presence within us is what ultimately renews us and makes us whole and holy.
It is what makes
us tabernacles of the Most High.
It what makes
each of us, like the Virgin Mary, a Theotokos,
a God-bearer.
Like Mary, we
too carry God within us.
And in doing
so, God makes us holy.
So, be aware
of uncleanliness of your actions and deeds.
Cast away
your arrogance and your cold-heartedness.
Get angry,
like Jesus, at the profanity that is being done within you.
And, like
Jesus, cleanse the
Let God dwell
within you and shine through you with a brilliance that, no matter how hard you
might try, you will not be able to hide.
No comments:
Post a Comment