 |
“The web of God’s design”
Message preached on
March 4, 2018
Long Green Valley Church of the Brethren
Glen Arm, Maryland USA
based upon
John 2:13-22,
1 Corinthians 1:18-31,
Exodus 20:1-17, and
Psalm 19:7-14
It made perfect sense back then.
You travel a long distance to Jerusalem for Passover – a “pilgrimage,” we
call it. Would you really want to lug everything with you, especially
those blasted animals for your offering to God? Better to pay as you go,
right? Pick up what you need at the last minute. So what if the price of
convenience is rather steep. So what if it’s become a racket, with
everyone on the take. So what if those who have little are fleeced for
their last coin, the exchange rate adjusted to benefit the Temple. Just so
long as the pleasing odor of the burnt offerings rises heavenward. That’s
the whole purpose, isn’t it? Anything else would be … well, foolish. Am I
right?
And then this trouble-maker comes
along, sounding a bit like that other rabble-rouser, John – you know, “the
baptizer.” That fool wants to turn the world upside down, calling everyone
to the Jordan river, away from Jerusalem; shoving them under the water.
“Repent,” John says. “Turn in the right direction.” Frankly, John is like
a spider trying to catch flies in his web. But at least he has the sense
to stay away from the Temple. Not this Jesus fellow. He makes the
pilgrimage to Jerusalem to remember the exodus, and as soon as he steps
into this holy place, he desecrates it by scattering the animals and
tossing tables. What an idiot! Some of those birds or beasts could have
wandered where they shouldn’t. Then what sort of smell would’ve risen to
offend God’s nostrils?...
Here we are on the third Sunday
of Lent, sisters and brothers. Our remembrance of Jesus entering Jerusalem
on a donkey, acclaimed with “hosanna’s” and palm branches is still three
weeks away. Just so you know, that is when Matthew, Mark, and Luke fit
this story of Jesus cleansing the Temple in their gospel order, my friends
– in the last week Jesus spent on earth. On the other hand, John (not to
be confused with the baptizer) situates it early on, during a previous
Passover, toward the beginning of the ministry of Jesus. In the preceding
verses, our Lord has called disciples and changed water into wine at a
wedding celebration. From Cana of Galilee, the scene then shifts to
Jerusalem. It’s different, but there is a purpose to John’s organization
of the story.
Early on, you see, John reveals
Jesus as challenging the order of things. This Word become flesh dwelling
among us
(1:14)
does not start out as a baby in this gospel. He comes as a light that
throws the world into sharp contrast. That’s why John puts this story here
toward the beginning. From the start, he is defying the norms, confronting
the way things are, envisioning a new way – God’s design. In the very next
chapter, Jesus encounters a religious leader who may have witnessed what
happened in the temple. The Pharisee Nicodemus comes by night, full of
questions. Jesus responds to his questions like a midwife: “Your old way
of seeing God’s way isn’t working,” he says. “You’ve got to see through
fresh eyes, like a newborn in the Spirit.” We don’t witness Jesus being
born at the beginning of John’s gospel because we are the ones who need to
be born from above. Otherwise, how can we see even a little bit of God’s
design?
Many years ago, we were camping
on the coast of South Carolina. The sweaty task of setting up had been
completed, and it was time to explore the state park. I can still remember
leaving the beaten path and walking quickly, running even, through the
trees. Then, fortunately, something caught my eye and brought me to an
immediate stop. There, right in front of me, was a huge spider web, with
an enormous arachnid at its center at face level. Had I not seen it, I
would have been wearing this creature. Now, mind you, the web was a thing
of beauty, but in that moment, it made my skin crawl.
I find it interesting that the
bulletin cover for this week uses a spider web to visualize God’s design,
using the words of the Psalmist, “the
law of the Lord is perfect”
(19:7a).
I know we had you do this earlier in our worship, but take another moment
to look over that picture, which is also on the screen. Can you see the
beauty of it? Also, tell me, in the usual way we use the word, would you
say this web is “perfect?” If it were “perfect” (as we often define
perfection), wouldn’t the rings of sticky silk be more uniform – like the
grooves in a record? They aren’t, are they? There are numerous
imperfections, in fact. And yet, seen through different eyes, there is a
“perfect” beauty to it. Furthermore, it is perfect for doing what it needs
to do – catching bugs. Can you see the beauty of it, even with the fierce
insect in the center?
Comparing this image to the Torah
(the Law) is not to say that God’s design is a trap set to ensnare us like
fodder for a spider’s meal. Of course, that might be how some see it.
Maybe even how we, in are darker moments understand our Maker – always out
to get us. Is that truth, however? Now, the law, as the apostle Paul
noted, can operate in that way for us. The law of Moses, intended as it
was to give shape to a people, to set a protective boundary around them,
to help them to live, actually made very evident how broken they were, how
far from God they had wandered, how sin deeply wove its web around and
within them. According to Paul, the law apart from grace leads to death,
not life.
But that was not the original
intent, the design. At least, not according to John’s gospel, which opens
with, “In the beginning was the Word,”
echoing Genesis, chapter 1. We know from the start of the Bible that God
spoke the world into existence, saying - for instance - “let there be light” and it was so. And behold, it was good. A word
from God created… Let me remind you that in Jewish circles, what we read
earlier in worship are not called “commandments,” but rather the ten
“words” of God. Torah is Word. Don’t we often call the Bible: God’s Word?
According to John’s gospel, this creative, shaping, protecting, living
“Word” becomes flesh and blood in Jesus. He is God’s design in human form.
With that in mind, let’s revisit
the story of Jesus cleansing the temple, as told by John. What we see here
is not “Jesus meek and mild,” but rather the “strong, righteous man of
Galilee,” to borrow from that old hymn. He is intentional. His actions are
not reckless. In John’s gospel, Jesus “makes” a whip to clean out his
Father’s house. He’s not in a frenzy. Yes, his disciples recalled the
words of the Psalmist: “It is zeal
for your house that has consumed me”
(Psalm 69:9),
as they later tried to make sense of what happened. But there is a
purposefulness to his passion here. Jesus is not lost in an
uncontrollable, almost vicious, rage. He takes the time to make the tool
he uses. It’s almost like counting to ten.
Mind you, this “whip of chords”
is not something fancy, made out of leather causing a cracking sound and
leaving a welt on exposed skin. He would be on the receiving end of one of
those later on. But here, since “no sticks or weapons were allowed in the
temple precincts, Jesus may have fashioned his whip from the rushes used
as bedding for the animals”
(Brown, Anchor Bible - John, p.
115).
Imagine, if you will, a lash made of palm branches. Not exactly Indiana
Jones. It did, however, get the job done. Like a broom used to sweep the
place clean. “Take these things out
of here!” he said.
“Stop making my Father’s
house a marketplace!”
That is how John remembers it.
Matthew, Mark, and Luke, who place this episode toward the end of their
gospels, right after the events we recall on Palm Sunday, make no mention
of what Jesus used to drive out the animals. They also shift the wording
in a more criminal direction, with Jesus saying, “It
is written, ‘My house shall be
called a house of prayer’; but
you are making it a den of robbers”
(Matthew 21:13, Mark 11:17, Luke 19:46). Here, toward the beginning of the gospel
story as told by John, the concern of Jesus is over the Temple becoming a
one-stop shopping mall.
I guess I’ve dated myself with
that image. Malls, which once replaced main street stores, are now being
replaced by online shopping. It’s a whole different world, this
marketplace. The problem with making God’s house into one remains, whether
we see cattle stalls, mall kiosks, or pop-up ads. Now, I know some of us
grow uneasy about church fundraisers, since they may lead in the direction
of making God’s house into a marketplace. And there is a degree of truth
to that. What is harmful about a marketplace is how it connects us to each
other and to God. We become dollar signs to one another. And we can buy
our way to our Creator. The problem is that our money becomes our God –
the Almighty Dollar. This tears us apart on so many levels. It destroys
community. Just ask the folks in Corinth, who were deeply divided between
the “haves” and the “have nots,” according to Paul. Money is power, and
power corrupts.
Mind you, I am the son of an
economist, so I know that there are various ways of trying to be just and
right in the marketplace. So, I don’t mean to be dismissive of it. After
all, the New Testament was written not in Hebrew (the religious language
of Israel) or Aramaic (the everyday language Jesus and his disciples
probably spoke), but in a form of Greek used for business transactions
throughout the Mediterranean area. We call it “Koine” (or “common”) Greek.
From that word we get what we call the change in our pockets, “coins.” We
also get the Greek word for “community,” that is, “koinonia.”
What happens in God’s house needs
to focus upon what we hold in common, not what divides us. What happens in
God’s house needs to draw us closer to our Maker. In truth, the system of
burning animals and grains - or whatever modern-day equivalents we come up
with - aren’t what connects us. These were and are a distraction, a waste.
“What does the Lord require of you,” asked the prophet Micah,
“but to do justice, and to love
kindness, and to walk humbly with your God?”
(6:8) “Let
the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart,” prayed the
psalmist, “be pleasing to you, O
Lord, my rock and my redeemer”
(19:14).
Toward the end of John’s gospel,
just as in the other three, Jesus lived out the sacrifice needed to
connect God’s people to one another and to their God. To be honest, it
does seem a bit foolish to lift up a symbol of what appears to be a
failure, an instrument of terror and death – a cross – as revealing God’s
grace and glory. According to John, this is part 2 of cleansing the
temple, confronting the powers that be, dismantling the old order. The
cross shows us the web of God’s design. This is how much God so loved the
world, giving – in the words of Jesus to Nicodemus – “his only begotten
Son” to draw everyone, all of us included, home… We set aside the gold
plated cross which usually sits on our worship center, and our young
people have replaced it with a simple wooden cross. Take a few moments and
just look at it. I will then draw this message to a close by repeating the
foolish words of the apostle Paul we heard earlier.
“God
chose the lowly things of this world and the despised things—and the
things that are not—to nullify the things that are, so that no one may
boast before him. It is because of him that you are in Christ Jesus, who
has become for us wisdom from God—that is, our righteousness, holiness and
redemption.”
(1 Corinthians 1:28-30)
©2018
Peter
L. Haynes
(you are welcome to borrow and, where / as appropriate, note
the source - myself or those from whom I have knowingly borrowed.)