Overturning Templeware

Don Friesen
March 15, 2009
Ottawa Mennonite Church

www.ottawamennonite.ca

We're only half-way through the season of Lent, but already Lenten lunacy is driving me nuts! If I hear just one more Lenten carol or Passion hymn in the shopping malls, I'm going to scream! I realize the economy is at its lowest ebb in a long time, and that retail sales are down, but I've got more than enough Ash Wednesday decorations already!

Merchants have no shame! The hype began well before Shrove Tuesday, and to tantalize our kids by inviting them to the malls to see Santa Cross is too much! The commercialization of Lent has to stop! It was a great relief to see that the Ten Thousand Villages shops have come out with an alternative: "Living Lenten Gifts".

I just wish the music industry would stop turning those wonderful Passion hymns into nonsensical little ditties. O Sacred Head was not intended to be sung to a rock and roll beat! Jesus, Keep me near the Cross loses its point when turned into shopping mall muzak. Go to Dark Gethsemane may have a dark theme, but it was not intended to be sung to a driving blues bass line.

And the other day – I couldn't believe my eyes – I saw a bumper sticker with the words, "Eli, Eli, lema sabachthani?" meaning "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?" (Matthew 27:46) Exactly right!

This time of year is also so busy. There are all those concerts to go to – the St Matthew Passion, the St Mark Passion, the St Luke Passion, the St John Passion – thank goodness there are only four Gospels – and then there are all those fasts to go to – which reminds me, I have to get going on baking a batch of Tenebrae cookies for the Janzen partial-fast this Saturday. I'm also expecting company on Good Friday; thank goodness I still have Lentil soup left over from last year. I also need to hang up sprigs of hyssop around the house before they come.

Lent was supposed to be a sacred time of preparation, confession, and disengagement, but the focus is shifting, and the language is changing. The public schools no longer talk of the traditional Lent Break, preferring the more generic Spring Break. And at the big box stores no one ever uses the traditional greeting anymore. Instead of "Have a lamentable Lent!" they just say "Have a nice day!" (inspired by and adapted from Andy Bryan, "Lent - Stop the Madness!!!")

I'm having a little fun, of course, and thank the good Lord that Lent has proven fairly impervious to commercialization, with the possible exception of the Cross, which comes in an assortment of jewellery choices; and a restaurant in San Antonio, which offers a "Lent Promo". One of the dishes in this promotion, however, is Chicken Cordon Bleu, which strikes me as a bit rich for Lent! (Mark D. Roberts, "The Commercialization of Lent?")

Let's face it, Lent is a tough sell. While I have immense faith in the ingenuity of marketing people to embarrass themselves in an endless quest for the Almighty Dollar, how do you commercialize a season that emphasizes renunciation, and repentance?

The Toppling of the Templeware

If you are aghast at the thought of crass marketing applied to things we hold sacred, consider how Jesus felt when he entered the Temple, as recounted in our Gospel reading. It was the Passover, the festival commemorating the exodus from Egypt. Holy days don't get much holier than this! That pivotal event, when God rescued them from four centuries of slavery and exploitation, drew thousands of the devout to the Temple in Jerusalem, there to offer their generous gifts of thanksgiving and praise. One might expect at this gathering a solemnity unmatched on any other holy day – but – what did Jesus find? "In the temple he found people selling cattle, sheep, and doves, and ...money changers...." (John 2:14) This is the way we now celebrate Passover?!? Jesus was furious! "Making 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. He told those who were selling the doves, ‘Take these things out of here! Stop making my Father's house a marketplace!'" (2:15-16) Or as another translation phrases it, "Stop turning (God's) house into a shopping mall!" (The Message)

A lot of Christians don't like this passage of Scripture. The prospect of Jesus showing anger makes us uncomfortable, a public display of anger even more so; it seems unbecoming of Jesus. This is not Gentle Jesus, meek-and-mild, this is Grumpy Jesus, frenzied and wild! Some refer to this incident as Jesus' temple tantrum! Mennonites wish this public display of violence had been left out of the Scriptures, although John's Gospel is the only account that mentions a whip, and it's used to drive out the animals. I remember as a nine-year-old boy herding our homely bunch of cows, and believe me, a skinny little boy herding cattle, each of which weigh five, six, seven times his weight, needs a few tools of persuasion.

Speaking of boys, consider that Jesus last visited the Temple when he was twelve! He had fond memories of the place and of the holy people who taught there. They had taken his questions seriously. He had taken their wisdom seriously. I imagine that over the years he treasured those memories, and while that visit had ended with some frantic searching on the part of his parents, that part of the memory had faded, and I imagine even his parents mostly remembered their son's conversation and rapport with men much older than him. These learned men had been amazed "at his understanding and his answers" (Luke 2:47) to the questions they posed. And when his parents upbraided him for not letting them know where he was, he replied, "Did you not know that I must be in my Father's house?" (2:49) Even then he felt at home in this holy place.

And now – now it had become a shelter for cattle! And cattle-vendors! This was not what he remembered from when he was twelve! A place of intellectual stimulation and theological discourse – a place of wisdom and reverence – had become a noisy shopping mall! And it made him angry.

Several Observations

Allow me to make a few observations about this temple-toppling incident. Firstly, it's helpful to examine its literary context. The three Synoptic Gospels place the cleansing of the temple, as it's often called, in Holy Week, at the beginning of Christ's Passion. The Gospel of John places it at the beginning of his Gospel. The synoptic authors follow a narrative line, while John is more theological, setting up stories – when he uses them – to weave a larger literary fabric, and so John sets up his best showpieces right at the beginning. Preceding the cleansing of the temple is the wedding at Cana (John 2:1-12), where the jars that held water used for the rites of purification are used to hold wine! Already there's not just tippling but some toppling going on. Following the cleansing of the temple is Jesus' encounter with Nicodemus (3:1-21), who's a bit thick when it comes to understanding the necessity for a new birth – but then he also has trouble tracking the capricious movements of the wind. (3:8) And then in the next chapter John brings out the Samaritan woman (John 4), a woman, a foreigner, and a divorcee – three things that normally would have disqualified her in the eyes of the righteous – but whom Jesus deemed worthy of the only admission of his messiahship given in all of Scripture.

John's crafted discourse, unlike synoptic narrative, is designed to show that Jesus overturned some conventional ways of being the people of God. Overturning unnecessary templeware is a vivid symbol of his intent. Later in the Gospel Jesus gets down on his knees and washes his disciples' feet (John 13:4-5), and once again the tables are turned. Who is the master? Who is the servant? Then he gives them a new commandment, the commandment of love (13:34-35), making clear that they will be known, not by demarcations of status but by the love they have for each other.

Secondly, it's helpful to examine the historical context of this passage. During Passover the capital city's population, of forty thousand or so, swelled with an influx of up to an additional two hundred thousand pilgrims. (Marcus Borg and John Dominic Crossan, The Last Week: A Day-by-Day Account of Jesus's Final Week in Jerusalem, cited by David D. Colby) Add some imperial troops and the numerous animals required for the sacrifices, and it starts to resemble the opening night of the SuperEx at Lansdowne Park! It was a circus! Noise and smells filled the air, and from this Mardi Gras-like mob a cacophony of languages erupted as pilgrims from Persia, Syria, Egypt, Greece, and many other places streamed into the city.

There was a lot of scurrying to and fro as families arranged for shelter, and food, and other such things. There was a temple tax to pay, an unblemished animal to obtain, and money to exchange, for the temple did not accept foreign currency. In this chaos some merchants inevitably pushed to get the biggest table and the most advantageous location, and if there was an opportunity to overcharge some of the less suspecting pilgrims, well, so be it. Some of the other Gospels hint as much when this unseemly marketplace is referred to as a "den of robbers". (Matthew 21:13; Mark 11:17; Luke 19:46)

Some of the commerce taking place near the temple was necessary because pilgrims needed to change currency, and they needed an animal for the Passover. Over time, however, the commercial activity began to overshadow the Passover itself, and booths and tables began to encroach upon the temple precincts. Good grief! Some of these rascals would have set up shop in the holy of holies itself if given half a chance!

No wonder Jesus was upset. The bedlam of buying and selling had intruded upon the sacred space for worship. The hockers were hocking their wares with no consideration for the very reason pilgrims came to Jerusalem. The commotion did not make for a very worshipful atmosphere; it would be like placing a few ATM machines in our sanctuary so that some of you could do your banking during the sermon. Seeking the presence of God moves to the margins, and before long all we do is chat with other people seated around us, when we should be preparing our hearts for worship.

Thirdly, it may be helpful to recognize that Jesus' spirited temple activity was an isolated incident. That is not to diminish its importance, but it saves us from making more of it than it is. The temple measured about a square kilometre. If Jesus started a fracas in our sanctuary, we would all take note, but the temple was more like Scotiabank Place. Picture the long concourse around the perimeter of Scotiabank Place, with its large concession stands and food courts, and you begin to get a sense of what transpired that day in the temple. How much of an impact did Jesus' table-turning escapade on one end of the concourse have? Herod the Great had put a great deal of work into the Temple during his reign, adding plazas, porticoes, and monuments. It was a huge place, and a little tussle in one of the temple corners was a symbolic action, to be sure, but it was hardly an uprising.

Fourthly, I want to underline that Jesus' action in the temple was a deliberate action. Some people like to dress it up a little. They say that Jesus completely lost it! His anger consumed him. Some then add a cloak of righteousness, describing his anger as a holy anger – a righteous indignation, as if that kind of anger is better than the anger that comes in a plain wrapper. I think Jesus was mad! I have no trouble imagining an angry Jesus. I'm glad that he was only angry on occasion, but I would expect a human Jesus to display some human emotions. I doubt, however, that this was fly-off-the-handle temple-rage. It as not as impulsive as it may seem. According to Mark's Gospel, Jesus went into the Temple late on Palm Sunday to look around. (Mark 11:11) Perhaps he went to bed that night with pictures of this crazy midway and its loud barkers in his mind. When he returned to the Temple the next day I think he had decided on a deliberate act intended to convey an intentional message.

Have we Lost our Way?

However we interpret the table-toppling in the temple, it is clear that it pained Jesus that his community of faith had lost its way. It's a question we ask ourselves on occasion. Has the Church lost its way? Have we lost our way? Contemplate that question as I tell you a story.

There was once a dangerous stretch of coast, and on this coast many ships ran aground. A small group of shipwreck survivors kept watch on this shoreline. They tried to alert ships to the dangers, but when ships floundered, the little group used an old rowboat to rescue as many as possible. CBC ran a national story about their good work, and donations came in to support their work. They used the money to purchase a proper lifeboat, and they a proper station, with a tower, so that they could better serve those in trouble. Their work attracted many visitors, some of whom stayed to help. A training course was developed for new recruits, more lifeboats were added, and the whole mission changed from an unskilled effort to quite a smooth operation!

Someone organized a raft of social activities for those who were off-duty, and those social activities attracted even more new members. Sometimes the rescue efforts interrupted their rich social life, so they hired professionals to take over the rescue work. The professionals were very effective, but the half-drowned survivors they brought in messed up the new social hall, and increasingly people at the hall felt they had little in common with the passengers rescued. The discomfort caused some to suggest that they stop the rescue work altogether. A few were unhappy about straying from their original purpose, so they left to start a new station further down the coast. Later another dispute resulted in another splinter group starting a new work.

History soon repeated itself, however, in both splinter groups, and eventually the people at all three lifeboat stations left their professional crews on the coast and moved inland. Eventually the membership of the inland stations could no longer sustain the financial burden of their coastal operations, and they cut back on the numbers of boats and crew members. Merger talks among the three groups never got anywhere, and eventually all three coastal stations closed. The social activities among members of the inland communities continued uninterrupted, however, and while shipwrecks still occur along that dangerous coast, most people now drown. (adapted from a story by Thomas Wedel, Ecumenical Review, October, 1953)