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.

Are you saved? Dwelling with God on the 4th Sunday of Lent

“For we are His handiwork, created in

Christ Jesus for the good works that

God has prepared in advance, that we

should live in them.” –Ephesians 4:10

Recently I have been doing a bit of driving –trips to the grocery store, the therapist, the pharmacy, down to Montrose to hear a lecture about Flannery O’Connor, even a drive to and from Dallas for a college visit.  And during these drives –especially if I am alone at night—I tend to turn on one of the Christian radio stations to hear someone preach about God. I started this habit back in my twenties. It just seemed more interesting than most pop music.  Regardless, the habit has stuck.  And I can be inspired by and learn something new from even the simplest sermon (or lesson). I’m not too picky. I like R.C. Sproul (Reformed), Chuck Swindall (Evangelical), Ed Young (Baptist), Charles Stanley (Southern Baptist), and a couple weeks ago I heard a woman from Africa teaching lessons from Genesis 12 and the call of “Papa Abraham.” I had never considered thinking of Abraham as “Papa Abraham,” but I liked it.  What first appealed to me was simply the “exotic” sound of her voice. It was something different from the usually Southern twang of many of these ministers.  But, I also liked the simple lessons about faith and following God that she was deriving from just a very few verses about “Papa Abraham.” So, I kept listening.

But, as I listen to these shows more than occasionally I will hear someone bring up the arguments of the Reformation as if they were still a sore subject. The other night, driving home from Sugarland I heard a preacher (not sure of the name) preaching on Revelations. As I listened he quickly came to the question of the whore of Babylon and how it was –what he called—the church of Rome.  On one level he was making a pretty good case starting with Constantine and the conversion of Rome; dwelling with particular emphasis on the mass baptism of Constantine’s army as a sign of the early Church getting way off on an extremely wrong foot.  

            I’m not certain if it was the same guy, but on another evening I heard the Church of Rome condemned for keeping the Bible out of the hands of the common people for so many centuries: 1. keeping it in Latin, and 2. keeping the right (or authority) to interpret scripture unto itself. Whether it was the same guy, it was definitely the same channel. I’ve head other ministers on that station (ministers I respect –like Sproul) deride the Roman Catholic church for its corruption and especially for still teaching that works are required for salvation.  And as I listen, I am often struck by the thought: you’re over-simplifying! It seems to me that these ministers were probably taught something during seminary and are simply repeating it without checking to see if its true (or ever was), and what the other side has to say for itself.  Heck, they don’t even acknowledge that the Lutherans and the Roman Catholics signed a Joint Declaration on the Doctrine of Justification back in 1999 (when John Paull II was still Pope).

            To be fair, I’ve also heard Catholic radio personalities (on EWTN) do the same thing from the other side.  They ridicule or deride their Protestant brethren for the teaching of justification by faith, and speak disdainfully of the very idea of sola scriptura –oversimplifying everything Luther or Calvin or even Barth might have taught. 

It feels like (on both sides) there is a refusal to listen, to engage the actual ideas of the other side, and a dangerous tendency to oversimplify. Who needs to actually read and contemplate the ideas of Luther or Calvin or a papal encyclical, when all you’re looking for is a straw man to knock over with a blast of your own hot air?    

            For instance, the other night on EWTN a Catholic apologist was citing several scripture passages as proof that Luther was all wrong about faith alone, and that clearly Jesus, Himself, was going to be looking at our works when it came time for the last judgment.

            For a Roman Catholic to think that Luther (or Lutherans) have failed to notice (or consider) Matthew 25: 31-46 is just absurd. A quick Google search will bring up articles and sermons by contemporary Protestant ministers preaching and teaching on the importance of works of mercy and love.  But look a little further and we find that Luther addressed this also; as did Calvin; with grace and inspiring insight. Whether we agree with an interpretation or not, what you will find in these writings is a brother or sister sincerely seeking God’s will and not just a cartoon enemy to be taped to a theological dart board.

The same could be said of those who have never read an encyclical or Papal letter, or the Catechism of the Catholic Church, yet wants to criticize her teachings. But who has time to consider what the other side of an issue when we are all in such a rush to jump to conclusions?

Which –by way of a lengthy introduction—brings me back to Paul’s letter to the Ephesians and the very question of “good works.”

Paul states here that we are “saved through faith” (points for Luther & JPII) and adds that our faith comes not through any effort on our part, but as a “gift of God.”  How much clearer does the teacher have to be here? Suddenly I am wondering why the whole Reformation couldn’t have been handled over in an afternoon at the pub; a couple of pitchers of ale, a block of Limburger and a loaf of pumpernickel and it’s done! Thomas Moore still has his head and Servetus still… well, never mind. As we know, the pub was probably closed for a religious holiday.

(As a side-note, it is interesting what the church has paired this reading with, a passage from Second Chronicles (cf.36:14-16; 19-23) about the “works” of God’s people when they are left to their own devices: abominations and the polluting of the temple. Even when God sends prophets with warnings the people react only with mockery and scoffing. Sound familiar? So, God sends them the Babylonians and a little bit of captivity, as a gift –one might say; a very hard kind of grace.)

But then, what does all this say to us about our works? Aren’t they worth something? Or why bother?

Well, what does Paul say?  Paul says this: our works were prepared for us by God, “that we should live in them.” Our works are where we are to dwell –prepared for us before we were born.  What does that mean: “…Prepared in advance that we should live in them?”

I propose that the answer is found not in theological debates or creeds or encyclicals and catechisms. It is found in Jesus. In the person of Christ.  In the time of fulfillment personified; in the Kingdom of God made flesh.

When the “sheep” in the parable of the last judgment ask the King: When did we see you hungry and feed you? Naked and give you clothes? A stranger and make you welcome? A prisoner and visit you? Basically, they are asking Jesus: When, Lord, were we in your presence? When were we dwelling in the Kingdom of God? Living in the time of fulfillment? And what does Jesus say? He responds:

“In truth I tell you, when you did this for the least

Of these my brothers, you did it for me…” (Mt. 25:40)

Basically, He is answering: when you did this and this and… 

True, those works may not earn the Kingdom of God, but that may not be the point. The point just might be that they are the Kingdom of God. (How very Dante-esque, I must say!)

So, if we’ve signed a declaration of agreement, why do Catholics and Protestants keep arguing about these things? And why do they always seem to be scoffing and deriding each other’s ideas?  Why won’t they just sit down with a pitcher of Shiner and a plate of nachos and listen to each other? That’s probably a discussion for another time, but it reminds me of something Jesus says in Sunday’s Gospel:

“…the people preferred darkness.” (Jn 3:19)

Assumptions and the aftermath: on Joshua 22:12

"At this news, the whole community of the Israelites

mustered at Shiloh, to march against them and

make war on them.” –Joshua 22: 12

Out of context, one might read this passage and assume that the Israelites are mustering to go to war against an enemy, perhaps some nation that has become an abomination before the Lord. But, in fact it seems to me, a perfect sign of what is to come for God’s chosen people: in-fighting, mistrust, suspicion and jealousy; the human condition (one might say).

Here, near the end of the book of Joshua, when the battles are finished, and all of the tribes have been allocated their land, one would imagine –expect, even—peace to reign, at least for a chapter or two.  However, almost immediately after the fighting stops as the tribes of Rueben, Gad and “the half-tribe of Manasseh” head home, they stop and build an altar (possibly in Gilgal). In reading the Torah (the first 5 books of the Bible) how many times have we seen the great figures from Israel’s history stop and build an altar of stones to honor God? To memorialize some victory? To remember some great, life-altering event? Abraham does it (cf. Gen 12:7 -8;13:18; 22:9) . Jacob does it (Gen 35:7). Moses builds one (Ex. 17:15). Heck, even Joshua does it (Joshua 8:30).  But now, when the rest of the tribes hear of this particular altar they muster at Shiloh and prepare to march against them because they find it suspicious and threatening. Here they are, finally settled after 40 years of wandering and fresh from the seemingly miraculous victories over their enemies, and what happens? They declare war not a pagan enemy, but on their own brothers (and sisters) who have just fought along side them to win them their homelands. Already in this nascent moment, the community of God’s people is crumbling.

As a prelude to war, the priest Phinehas is sent (with ten elders) to declare to these three (or 2 1/2) tribes their sin and to demand an answer:

“What do you mean by this infidelity, which you have

committed against the God of Israel…?” (cf. 22:16)

Phinehas asserts that this altar puts all of Israel in danger.  But the two and a half explain that Phinehas (and the others) have been rather rash in their judgment. This altar has been built not out of idolatry, nor infidelity, but out of fear that these others –the tribes that sent Phinehas, et al—might some day forget that the Reubenites and Gadites and half tribe of Manasseh too are children of Abraham, and say to them:

“What connection do you have with the Lord, God of Israel? Has not the Lord set the frontier of the Jordan between us and you, you Reubenites and Gadites. You have no share in the Lord.” (cf. 22:24-25)

They have built this altar as a witness for future generations, as a reminder that they too are a part of God’s people; they too have a stake in His blessing.  They have built it that they might point to it as an image of what they once stood near, as an assurance to future generations that they too “have a right to worship the Lord in His presence…” (22:27b)

            Oddly enough, nowhere in this story is there any mention of God’s approval or disapproval of the altar. The same God who was so precise and exacting in his directions to Moses for building a tent and an altar and special poles and bowls and tent cloths –even to the number of loops in the cloth—and who and when and where anyone could approach the altar-- doesn’t seem to have any opinion on this one.  So, I ask myself: what lesson are we to derive from this story? If it isn’t a lesson about altars and infidelity, then what is it? A lesson about trust? About faith? About rushing to judgment? About making assumptions? One side assumes the other is doing something sinful. The other side assumes that they will be forgotten. And neither side seems to remember God’s strangely reassuring words from Deuteronomy:

“It is not for your righteousness or for the uprightness of your heart that you are going to possess [this] land, but it is because of the wickedness of these nations that the LORD your God is driving them out before you.” (Deuteronomy 9:5)

But as we see again and again in scripture, that is the key mistake people make over and over. We assume it’s all about us. God is rewarding us because we deserve it, or God is punishing us because we deserve it. At least for me, it is always about me. My wife is mad because of something I did. My kids are sick because I’m a failure as a father. My poem got rejected because I’m no good as a writer. But as we see in the book of Judges, every time things seem to start going right, every time the Lord blesses His people with victory and protection and peace, they begin doing what is evil in the sight of the Lord. It happens so often that it becomes a kind of refrain. The main lesson I am hearing from this passage is: Don’t assume this all about you. And don’t assume you know all the facts. And don’t assume you know God’s will…  And don’t assume that just because God loves you, He approves of everything you do.  In fact, just don’t assume.