Showing posts with label Jesus and the moneychangers. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Jesus and the moneychangers. Show all posts

Tuesday, April 15, 2014

What Do Money Changers Have to Do With Me?

When it comes to Jesus' encounter with the money changers, the fact is, I have no clear idea what on earth was happening.

I don’t feel too bad about that, and neither should you: we’re in pretty good company.  The disciples took it as a sign of Jesus’ own crucifixion and resurrection.  Or he was engaging in an act of religious purification, cleansing the temple (a view favored by my home church, which will not allow anything to be sold in the sanctuary of the church).  Or he was showing the importance of keeping the church ‘pure’ (free from sin), the view of early Protestants.  Or he was reacting against injustices like lending money at high rates of interest (the view of many modern Christians).  Or he represented the sadness and anger of the early believers who had themselves been thrown out of the Temple by the mainstream (a common scholarly view).

There is truth in all of these views: Jesus did hate injustice.  We are challenged to separate ourselves from sin.  Jesus is the temple at which we worship.  And keeping others away from the worship of God because they don’t fit our model of what a ‘good Christian’ should look like or be like is a recurring problem in the church.

There are many ways to understand Jesus’ radical actions in the temple.  And they all carry truth.  But the one for our time is perhaps the understanding that our God is freeing, not enslaving . . . that our God is a rescuing, not a condemning God . . . and that having ourselves been freed, having ourselves been rescued, to do any less to others makes God furious!

As Daniel B. Clendenin says, “The "cleansing" of the temple, a delicate euphemism to describe the only violent act of Jesus, occurs in all four Gospels. It's an unnerving story that reminds us that there's no such thing as "business as usual" with Jesus, and that all who come to him must come on his terms, not ours.”

His terms, not ours.  It’s a tall order.

***

Give us a sign, they asked.  Who are you to do this?  they asked.  Give us a sign.

Understand this about signs . . .

They do not exist for their own sake . . .

Signs point to something else . . .

They stand for something . . .

Jesus stood for something . . .

And he demands that we stand for something too . . .

So if we are signs . . .

What do we stand for?

To what/whom do we point?

. . . in what direction are we pointing?

Are we pointing to the world and all its pleasures and concerns?

Or are we pointing to God? . . . and which God?

Are we pointing to a God who hates and destroys?

Or are we pointing to the God who loves and rebuilds?

The moneychangers, the temple guards . . . gatekeeping signs . . .

Deciding who could come in and who could not . . .

Don’t have a sacrifice?  You can’t enter . . .

Not the right kind of person . . . you’re definitely ‘out’ . . .

. . . who do we keep out . . .

Who can’t get past our gates?

Who doesn’t have the right kind of sacrifice?

Whose spots do we see more clearly than our own?

What tables would God overturn here?

What signs do we put up that keep others out?

What gates do we guard . . .

What tests do people have to pass to ‘get in’ here?

What price do we make people ‘pay’?

What tables would God overturn here?

Monday, March 25, 2013

MoneyChanger Mondays


Monday of what we Christians call Holy Week was a bad day for the moneychangers of Jesus’ time.  Turns out it’s the same for Wall Street.

In their book The Last Week, Marcus Borg and John Crossan make a compelling case that Jesus’ action at the temple on that fateful Monday was not so much a cleansing (making ritually pure) as it was a symbolic prediction of the destruction of the temple as fruitless (fruitless is worse than being useless, as the thing – fig tree or temple or society – projects itself as useful but isn’t – and the lie has dire and bitter consequences for those deceived, those who believed the lie that fruit could be found where, in fact, there was none).

Borg and Crossan quote from Jeremiah 7 for the phrase ‘den of robbers’, arguing from the linkage between Jeremiah and Mark 11.12-19 (the moneychanger temple incident), that God insists not merely on justice and worship, but that God prefers justice over worship.  I would disagree (it may be hairsplitting, but I don’t think so) and say that in fact, God would have us understand that acting justly is itself an act of worship, of lifting our voices in praise to God and all that God has created.  Borg and Crossan distinguish (rightly) between justice and the forms of worship in quoting from Hosea 6.6, I desire steadfast love and not sacrifice, the knowledge of God rather than burnt offerings.  

But sacrifice and burnt offerings are the external evidence, the forms, of worship and they may (or may not) evidence actual or genuine worship of God.  But we know this: in all facets of life, we often act contrary to our hearts.

Jesus’ emphasis throughout his ministry is to get our hearts and our hands acting in concert – with each other and most importantly, with the heart of the divine.

And that, I think, is the problem of Mondays for we Christians in our time: our Sunday hearts and our Monday hands so often find themselves at odds with each other.

Not always.

But often enough to make Mondays a real problem.

Borg and Crossan interpret the events at the Monday temple as underscoring that we human claimed believers and followers cannot run and hide in our Sunday temples from what we’ve done on Monday.

I’m with them on this: this is a social justice commentary by Jesus on what’s happening in his time and in ours.  It’s a matter of public morality, decency and politics.

But to turn it towards private piety for a moment, I am wondering who or what my Monday moneychangers are and where they’re hiding within the Sunday temple of my own heart.

What is it that I hope you don’t know about me, especially when it comes to how I treat others?

Is Jesus Christ really President* of all my Mondays?

I want to think so.  I want to believe that the Jesus moment I had in church yesterday is with me in all my todays.  I want to think to that I am not Wall Street and that I don’t succumb to the worries, fears and behaviors of the world whenever Monday comes around.

May the wish become prayer.
May the prayer become thought.
May the thought become reality.
May the reality become my wish.

Amen.




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*which is just another way of saying ‘Lord’.  Listen to Woody Guthrie’s Christ for President on the YouTube link below.


***



Christ for President – words by Woody Guthrie
& music by Jeff Tweedy & Jay Bennett
performed on YouTube by Billy Bragg and Wilco

Let's have Christ our President
Let us have him for our king
Cast your vote for the Carpenter
That you call the Nazarene

The only way we can ever beat
These crooked politician men
Is to run the money changers out of the temple
Put the Carpenter in

O It's Jesus Christ our President
God above our king
With a job and a pension for young and old
We will make hallelujah ring

Every year we waste enough
To feed the ones who starve
We build our civilization up
And we shoot it down with wars

But with the Carpenter on the seat
Way up in the Capital town
The USA would be on the way
Prosperity Bound!

Monday, March 12, 2012

Pandemonium* -- Sermon Cliff Note/ Jesus & the Moneychangers



What if it was all about Jesus?
What he was seeing and hearing
smelling and tasting
What if the Temple was the bad taste in Jesus’ own mouth?
The smell of disappointment . . . 
The sight of disgust . . . 
The sound of expectations, hopes and dreams unmet?

Here was Jesus shouting
there was Jesus whipping
Everywhere, it seemed, was Jesus chasing

It was Pan . . . demonium . . . 
Pan . . . all . . .
Daemonium . . .evil . . . 
Pandemonium . . . 
Uproar
and chaos
a place of wildness
and wild things

Pandemonium . . . 
The place where all evil resides . . . 
Satan’s temple right in the center of hell . . . 
Maybe that’s what Jesus was seeing that day . . . 
In the temple . . . 
The place of order
and calm . . .
peace and tranquility . . . 
safe haven and sanctuary 
The very place where God resides . . .

There was pandemonium . . . 
Wild things
trampling everything
in their wildness . . . 
Going back to the primordial . . .
the chaos of before God . . . 
the darkness and void
before the beginning . . . 

Jesus must have wondered
in that split-second moment
before the anger
why we would go back
to all that
why we would settle for so little
when God offers so much
why the cacophony of the market
would seduce us into thinking
that this was God?

How it must have torn his heart . . . 
Each cha-ching of the proverbial cash register
a gut punch
He told us so clearly
why could we not hear?
He showed us so plainly
How could we not see?

The Temple was him . . . 
and we were making him for sale . . . 
putting a price on what he gave so freely
Holding praise and worship hostage
to the currency of the realm
Brick by brick
we dismantled him
we annihilated God
invaded God’s own house
set up our own booths
made our own rules
and called them good

Who says God’s heart can’t be broken?

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*Pandemonium was coined by John Milton in Paradise Lost, as a word meaning the Temple of Satan in the center of Hell.