Making a straight path for Christmas --Some thoughts on Matthew 3:1-9

“Make straight his paths…” Matthew 3:3

 

One of my Advent dreams this year was to be more reflective, spend some time each day in prayer: read the Advent readings from the missal and maybe write a few reflections about them.  But here it is the third Sunday and I have yet to begin.  Instead, I feel like an arctic explorer, forging my way through—just hoping to reach Christmas in one piece.  Along with that, there’ve been leaky pipes, torn out walls, and a couple of big plastic tarps in the kitchen as part of our holiday decoration theme this year.

 

But, it is never too late to make like Fred and Ginger, to pick myself up, dust myself off, and start all over again.  So, this morning, with a little time on my hand, waiting for the sheet-rock guy to come, I am going to reflect on last Sunday’s Gospel reading: Matthew 3:1-9.

It begins:

 

“John the Baptist appeared, preaching in the desert of Judea
and saying, "Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand!"
It was of him that the prophet Isaiah had spoken when he said:
A voice of one crying out in the desert,
Prepare the way of the Lord,
make straight his paths.
John wore clothing made of camel's hair
and had a leather belt around his waist.
His food was locusts and wild honey.”

 

And like always, my first thought is of those locusts.  How did he eat them?  Did he cook them? Raw? Live…?  And what about all that honey? Didn’t it get in his beard, his hair? Think about it… Sticky fingers, camel hair, and all that desert sand?  Just the hygiene issues overwhelm me. 

 

But then I looked back at the reading and found myself caught by those simple directions. “Make straight his paths…” And immediately I thought, Yes!  That’s what I need to do. I need to make a straight path.  That could be my Advent practice.  I need to put God first, focus my attention and start… Wait, a minute.

Suddenly I noticed how quiet the house was and looked at the clock.  It was barely 5am... You know what? Now would be a great time to throw together a batch of molasses spice walnut muffins. In fact, I could contemplate the Gospel while mixing them up and once they’re in the oven, I’ll be ready to start writing.  Perfect. I have a plan!  But plane are not my strong suit.

 

As soon as the muffins were in the oven (and that is not a euphemism), I realized: if I don’t clean up my dishes, the cats will get into them, maybe break something. So, instead of writing, I picked up my bowl and measuring cups, and figured I could contemplate a little longer while washing dishes. No problem. I’m still on track. But, wait. The sink already has dishes in it.  No problem, I can wash those too. More time to contemplate and then --writing!  But before I can run a sink full of water, I’m going to need to clear out these dishes and scrub the sink! And so, I get out the Barkeeper’s Friend and a sponge and start scrubbing the sink—which could be a euphemism—but isn’t this time.  Anyway, there I was scrubbing the sink, trying to ponder what Isaiah and John meant when they said: Make a straight path.  Was it just to make travel easier? Whose travel. The Lord’s… But the Lord doesn’t need a straight path. Right? He’s God… So, who are we straightening the path for? And again I thought: I could write about that! But just then, a cat started crying in the hallway.  He’s going to wake everyone and then my quiet time will be gone! I hurry down the hallway and find a cat standing in the bathtub. Waiting for me to turn on the water, so he can lap the drips falling from the spout. I do it, and make a straight path right back to my pen and notebook, but by now my coffee is cold. And the oven timer is going off. I get the muffins out and set them on a rack to cool, but then another cat starts fussing. She wants food.  I reach for a can, and another cat wanders up.  If I don’t feed them, they will jump up on the counter and start messing with my muffins (again, not a euphemism).  And suddenly I realized: I am living a kind of parable. And this straight path advice suddenly feels very personal.  And I know—I am terrible at this kind of thing. But I am going to try. I am going to recommit myself (again—not a euphemism) and make the time, make the effort, straighten out the pathway—clear away the obstacles and the distractions—so I can be more fully present to the Love that is always there waiting for me in God’s word.The straight path isn't for God, it is to God.  I need to get my priorities set straight. That is what I need this Advent... I need to make straight the path of my priorities, so I can know what I truly value.  Clearly, when I want some muffins, I make a straight path to the kitchen, and when I want the cats to settle down, I make a straight path to the cat-food bowls... Let me at least treat my relationship with God with the same commitment, the same intentionality, the same desire and desperation as I do a yowling cat!  And maybe that is a euphemism, of  sort. 

 

Cleansing the temple: The third Sunday of Lent

“Take all of this out of here and stop

making my Father’s house a market…”

–John 2:16

“Jews demand signs and Greeks look for

wisdom, but we proclaim Christ crucified…”
--I Corinthians 1:22-25

Lent has been a hard season for me for a few years now.  I often have the sense that there is enough sacrifice and suffering around me these days (year-round) that I find it hard to imagine giving up anything or taking on any new hardships.  Because of that, often the season is over before I realize it is here. Health of children, anxieties about work, struggles with family, with budgets, with plumbing and roof-leaks, my aging joints, all the day-to-day worries keep me so distracted and busy that I feel overwhelmed and incapable of anything more.  But what if that’s exactly when we need Lent? When we are overwhelmed by life and troubles, that’s precisely when we need to walk into that temple and make a cord of rope and drive out all those distractions –because what we need isn’t more money, or more time in the day, or more options, more exercise (or more vegetables even), not even more distractions;  what we need is less.

Growing up at the end of the ‘60s and into the ‘70s I always heard the story of Jesus cleansing the temple as a condemnation of greed and corrupt business practices; a metaphorical and metaphysical condemnation of profit and the marketplace.  And yes, there may be some elements of that here. Certainly there is a sense in the synoptic gospels of the merchants misbehaving. In all three, Jesus speaks of them turning His father’s house into a “den of thieves.” But, here in John he says only: “a marketplace.”

For context, I was reading Ben Witherington’s The Gospel of Mark: A Socio-Rhetorical Commentary.  In it, he says these sellers had only recently moved their work into the temple (around 30CE), possibly during the time of Caiaphas. He notes that the sellers were allowed into the temple either to allow temple authorities control over the activities, or to allow them to claim a cut of the profit (Worthington 315).

 Whatever the reason, the money changers and animal sellers were providing an actual and (for some) a very important service.  They provided Jews with the ability to change Roman (or foreign) coins in order to pay their temple tax. Coins with pagan mottos or an image of Caesar being unacceptable as an offering. They also provided animals (for a price) for those who couldn’t bring their own. They were providing a valuable service; and doing it in an approved way and in an approved place.  So, what was the objection?

            And on this particular Sunday in Lent, I find a possible clue in Paul’s letter to the Corinthians.  He tells us that some people will look for signs and others will seek wisdom, but all he has to offer them is this: Christ crucified. It will be a stumbling block to some, and foolishness to others, but that’s it.  The one essential thing; and everything else --the power and wisdom of God-- are found in it!  And as I contemplate Paul’s words, the story of the temple and the money changers seems to open up a little and reveal something more. Yes, there is a lesson here about corruption and church raffles, but there is something else. Something even more central, I think. A lesson about focus. Keep your eye on the ball.  Don’t de distracted by the non-essential.  There is one necessary thing. Stay focused. 

            Whether the sellers in the temple were corrupt or not, they were extraneous; they were not essential to the purpose of the temple. And I would imagine that they and their doves and sheep and even cows, were becoming a distraction. A distraction from the real sacrifice God seeks: our hearts. For me, these readings speak about many things, but the one thing, the essential thing I hear this third Sunday of Lent is this: Get rid of your distractions, drive them out of your heart, out of your mind, out of your temple. Make a place in your life for God. Even if it is just for an hour, just for ten minutes before work or 5 minutes before sleep. Make a place in your room, in your day, in your heart where you can go and be with God.  Let go of your worries about family and work and life and health and money and leaky roofs and broken plumbing and just be with God. Pray a rosary, meditate, read the gospels. But whatever you do, really do it. Don’t let the distractions of the day or the week or the year get in the way. Leave them behind –all of them—and give yourself to the Lord completely –even if it’s only for ten minutes. Who needs a pigeon? Give yourself to God.

            It’s not that the roof doesn’t matter. It’s not that your family doesn’t matter.  But we have to realize there is only one essential thing. And we better not let the marketplace (or the weight of the world) distract us from it.