King Duncan
Jesus was a very gentle man. Right? We sing “Fairest Lord Jesus . . .” Or “Gentle Savior Meek and Mild . . .” Jesus was Mr. Nice Guy, the prototype sensitive male. Respectful of women. Loved little children. Kind to his mother. What is he doing, then, in the temple courts during the holiest season of the Jewish year, overturning tables and scattering coins and using a whip, of all things, to drive both people and cattle out of the courtyard? Imagine if someone came into our church and disturbed our service like that? We would think he was demented or criminal, and we would want him punished.
No wonder the religious people were so upset. Combine this incident with his diatribes against the scribes and Pharisees and it was no wonder that he was crucified. He didn’t have the ACLU looking after the rights of the rebellious. He lived in a land occupied by the mighty and sometimes unmerciful rule of Rome. They were not going to intercede for him when he experienced the wrath of the established order. Who can blame them? Maybe we have done Jesus a disservice when we make him fit our prototype of meekness and gentleness?
It’s obvious that there were some things that made him angry. Is it a sin to get angry? Obviously not. The scriptures are adamant: Jesus was without sin (Hebrews 4:15), yet he expressed anger. So, anger must not be, in itself, a sin.
Someone has compared anger to nitroglycerine. Nitroglycerine is an unstable liquid which, in paste form, constitutes dynamite. However, nitroglycerine in very small amounts is what is given to heart patients to keep their hearts beating. Anger, of itself, is not sinful. The sin is in getting angry over the wrong things. We get angry when someone cuts us off in traffic. Or when someone takes credit for something we’ve done at the office. We get angry at the kids when they’re too noisy and at our spouse when they don’t meet our expectations. Sometimes we get angry when we’re simply tired and cranky. We don’t even need anything to set us off.
The media reported sometime back on a fight that broke out in a nursing home. The Spring Haven Retirement Community in Florida found their peace disrupted over a nasty incident at the salad bar. Mealtime turned ugly when an 86-year-old man complained to another gentlemen about picking through the lettuce. Name-calling soon gave way to punching and the police were summoned. Those in the way paid a price. One resident was bitten in his attempt to stop the fight, another knocked down. While no one was seriously injured, one of the men was expelled from the home. (1)
You and I get angry over all kinds of things–some of them exceedingly silly. Jesus got angry when he saw people exploiting religion. That’s a little different from getting miffed over a salad bar. Jesus came to seek and to save the lost. This was his one purpose in life. Can you imagine how he felt when he saw that there were some religious leaders who were using religion not to help people but to take advantage of them?
Are there some people who exploit religion today? Oh, yes. There are some religious hucksters who get rich by taking advantage of hurting souls. Sometimes you can catch these con men on television. (There are probably some con women on television, too, I just don’t know about them.) I suspect Jesus’ blood boils when he hears one of these charlatans promise their followers that God will bless them, heal them, give them all kinds of prosperity, if they will just make a donation to this pastor’s ministry. Sinful human beings exploit religion just like they exploit everything else and for the same reasons--wealth, power, prestige.
Jesus got angry when he saw people exploiting religion for their own gain. Like those merchants in the temple courts. People came to offer their sacrifices. Many of them were from out of town. They couldn’t bring an animal with them to sacrifice. So they purchased an animal in the temple court. Unfortunately they couldn’t use Roman coins. These coins were considered impure. After all, they bore the image of Caesar, which broke the commandment against graven images. So, the money changers were exchanging Roman coins for shekels, temple coins, and some of them were making an outrageous profit at the expense of simple, believing people. And Jesus exploded, according to the picture we get in the Gospel. Jesus always gets angry at people who exploit religion.
Jesus also got angry when religious leaders elevated form over substance. At the center of Jewish life are two commandments--love God, love your neighbor--but the Bible interpreters of Jesus’ time were obscuring these two key commands with a host of petty, peripheral demands--obscure laws, pointless rituals. After all, it was easier to measure the length of the tassel on your robe than it was to love old, crotchety Mr. Saperstein next door. And much, much easier than loving that religious heretic, Mr. Samaritan, in the next town. God had called these religious leaders to open the eyes of their people to the presence of God in human hearts and in human relationships and these leaders instead were loading the people down with useless laws. Meanwhile they were ignored the real spiritual needs of their flock.
So, Jesus got steamed, and he fashioned a whip and drove both people and animals out of the temple court. It is a dramatic scene. And it tells us something very important about Jesus. All Jesus cares about is people.
This is so very important. At the heart of everything Jesus did was his love for people. Law wasn’t as important to him as people, though he was a law-abiding man. Tradition wasn’t as important to him as people, though he kept most of the sacred traditions of his people. Even religion wasn’t as important to him as people, even though the Sabbath always found him in the synagogue. But Jesus didn’t come to die for the law or for a tradition or even for religion. Jesus came and died for people. All people.
There may be people that you and I disapprove of. They may not have the same moral standards as we do. They may not worship as we do. They may be committed to a very different way of life, a way of life that we find disturbing. But, friend, Jesus loves them. And Jesus didn’t come to condemn them, but to save them. (John 3:17).
Seminary professor Tom Troeger tells about a childhood game he played when he was in grade school. The game was, “You’re out! You’re out! You can’t come in!” The way the game was played was that half of the children would form a circle. Everyone would face outward and holding hands. The other half of the children would be outside the circle. The ones in the circle would chant, “You’re out! You’re out! You can’t come in. You’re out! You’re out! You can’t come in.” And once they had chanted this twice, the children who were on the outside would rush as hard as they could and try to break into the circle. The ones in the circle could only hold hands, they couldn’t lock arms. And the ones who were trying to break in had to get in on the first try, they couldn’t keep pushing. (2)
You and I know about that game. We’ve seen it played out all our lives on both a child’s level and on an adult level, and sometimes, Heaven help us, it has been played in the name of Jesus. “You’re out! You’re out! You can’t come in!” That’s a chant we’ve used on all kinds of people. It certainly was the chant in the days of the Civil Rights marches. But there have been other times, other places, and, my, the hurt that has been done.
Martin Marty once said that you can divide religious people into two groups. Not the liberal and conservative, not the Catholics and the Protestants, but the mean and the non-mean. (3) That hurts, but it is also true.
Some of you are familiar with the writing of Madeleine L’Engle. She has inspired many people with her work. She reports that one Sunday she visited a unique Episcopal church in New York. A man stood up in that church and said, “I hope this is appropriate to ask. I was an abused child. I’m terrified of being an abusive father. I need help and prayer. “ Madeleine L’Engle knew then this was a church she could stay in. “Because people are willing to be vulnerable,” she says, “this church is very different. Sometimes it gets messy, but that’s okay. People are not afraid to ask questions. We’re able to admit we’re all broken, we’ve all made terrible mistakes, we’re all in need, and we all want things we don’t have.”
She said they meet in an upper room. The building was sold, and they gave all the beautiful things to the Metropolitan Museum. “There’s not a mink coat in the place,” she says, “and there’s not anyone else my age there either. They’re all very young, very alive. The five o’clock Eucharist is largely street people --on drugs, HIV-positive, or with AIDS.” One member told her it was the only place where he was called by his name. “It’s a church in which a mother whose 27-year-old son has died is free to say, ‘People think I’m terrible because I can’t pray.’ And I can reassure her, ‘You don’t have to pray. We’re praying for you. That’s what the body of Christ is about.’” (4) That is what the church is all about. Some churches are known for the people they keep out. My guess is that makes Jesus very angry.
All Jesus cares about is people. Fortunately, that includes you and me. We’re not worthy of it, but it includes us. That’s the message of the cross.
Our nation was transfixed a couple of years ago when cultural icon Martha Stewart went on trial. The perfect homemaker was going to make a jail cell her new home. Pastor Mike Neifert, in a sermon on the web, drew a powerful parallel to the life of Christ from Martha Stewart’s experience. He noted that all the thousands of dollars Martha Stewart spent on high-powered attorneys could not keep Martha Stewart out of prison. Appearances by high-profile friends like Bill Cosby and Rosie O’Donnell throughout the six-week trial did not affect the outcome. The jury was not swayed. The evidence condemned her. She was defenseless. Only one witness testified on her behalf. Every other person taking the stand pointed an accusing finger her way. Just fourteen hours after closing arguments, the jurors returned their verdicts on all four counts against her. Guilty. Guilty. Guilty. Guilty. The maximum penalty for each count? $250,000 and five years in prison. That’s a lot of money and a lot of time. Of course, the final judgment was far less severe. Martha Stewart in jail. Who would have thought? What a horrible experience for someone who, up to this point, had it all.
Imagine, asks Pastor Neifert, that Bill Cosby had stepped in front of a microphone after Martha’s sentence was handed down and asked the judge to punish him in her place. It didn’t happen, obviously, but imagine it. Just for a second play out this scenario in your mind. Imagine further that the judge okayed the swap. Bill goes to prison. Martha walks. Bill pays the fines. Martha is debt free. (5)
There is much about the theology of the cross we don’t understand. But Scripture is quite plain on this point: Jesus went to the cross on our behalf. Why? “God so loved the world . . .”
That is why Jesus drove the money-changers from the Temple. Jesus cares about people. What the money changers were doing had nothing to do with authentic religion. They were exploiting people. They were elevating the form of religion over the substance of religion. “God so loved the world . . .” That is what authentic religion is all about.
And that is the faith I invite you to make your own. Not legalistic faith that fills people with guilt and forgets to flood them with grace. Not moralistic faith that divides people into acceptable and unacceptable and forgets to remind us that we are all sinners saved by grace. I invite you to accept the authentic faith of Jesus, a faith that has one goal--to help us grow in love for one another and for God. A faith that tells us we really matter, not because there is anything remarkable about us, but because there is something remarkable about God. “God so loved the world . . .” Accept nothing less. This is the heart of Lent.
Jesus was a very gentle man. Right? We sing “Fairest Lord Jesus . . .” Or “Gentle Savior Meek and Mild . . .” Jesus was Mr. Nice Guy, the prototype sensitive male. Respectful of women. Loved little children. Kind to his mother. What is he doing, then, in the temple courts during the holiest season of the Jewish year, overturning tables and scattering coins and using a whip, of all things, to drive both people and cattle out of the courtyard? Imagine if someone came into our church and disturbed our service like that? We would think he was demented or criminal, and we would want him punished.
No wonder the religious people were so upset. Combine this incident with his diatribes against the scribes and Pharisees and it was no wonder that he was crucified. He didn’t have the ACLU looking after the rights of the rebellious. He lived in a land occupied by the mighty and sometimes unmerciful rule of Rome. They were not going to intercede for him when he experienced the wrath of the established order. Who can blame them? Maybe we have done Jesus a disservice when we make him fit our prototype of meekness and gentleness?
It’s obvious that there were some things that made him angry. Is it a sin to get angry? Obviously not. The scriptures are adamant: Jesus was without sin (Hebrews 4:15), yet he expressed anger. So, anger must not be, in itself, a sin.
Someone has compared anger to nitroglycerine. Nitroglycerine is an unstable liquid which, in paste form, constitutes dynamite. However, nitroglycerine in very small amounts is what is given to heart patients to keep their hearts beating. Anger, of itself, is not sinful. The sin is in getting angry over the wrong things. We get angry when someone cuts us off in traffic. Or when someone takes credit for something we’ve done at the office. We get angry at the kids when they’re too noisy and at our spouse when they don’t meet our expectations. Sometimes we get angry when we’re simply tired and cranky. We don’t even need anything to set us off.
The media reported sometime back on a fight that broke out in a nursing home. The Spring Haven Retirement Community in Florida found their peace disrupted over a nasty incident at the salad bar. Mealtime turned ugly when an 86-year-old man complained to another gentlemen about picking through the lettuce. Name-calling soon gave way to punching and the police were summoned. Those in the way paid a price. One resident was bitten in his attempt to stop the fight, another knocked down. While no one was seriously injured, one of the men was expelled from the home. (1)
You and I get angry over all kinds of things–some of them exceedingly silly. Jesus got angry when he saw people exploiting religion. That’s a little different from getting miffed over a salad bar. Jesus came to seek and to save the lost. This was his one purpose in life. Can you imagine how he felt when he saw that there were some religious leaders who were using religion not to help people but to take advantage of them?
Are there some people who exploit religion today? Oh, yes. There are some religious hucksters who get rich by taking advantage of hurting souls. Sometimes you can catch these con men on television. (There are probably some con women on television, too, I just don’t know about them.) I suspect Jesus’ blood boils when he hears one of these charlatans promise their followers that God will bless them, heal them, give them all kinds of prosperity, if they will just make a donation to this pastor’s ministry. Sinful human beings exploit religion just like they exploit everything else and for the same reasons--wealth, power, prestige.
Jesus got angry when he saw people exploiting religion for their own gain. Like those merchants in the temple courts. People came to offer their sacrifices. Many of them were from out of town. They couldn’t bring an animal with them to sacrifice. So they purchased an animal in the temple court. Unfortunately they couldn’t use Roman coins. These coins were considered impure. After all, they bore the image of Caesar, which broke the commandment against graven images. So, the money changers were exchanging Roman coins for shekels, temple coins, and some of them were making an outrageous profit at the expense of simple, believing people. And Jesus exploded, according to the picture we get in the Gospel. Jesus always gets angry at people who exploit religion.
Jesus also got angry when religious leaders elevated form over substance. At the center of Jewish life are two commandments--love God, love your neighbor--but the Bible interpreters of Jesus’ time were obscuring these two key commands with a host of petty, peripheral demands--obscure laws, pointless rituals. After all, it was easier to measure the length of the tassel on your robe than it was to love old, crotchety Mr. Saperstein next door. And much, much easier than loving that religious heretic, Mr. Samaritan, in the next town. God had called these religious leaders to open the eyes of their people to the presence of God in human hearts and in human relationships and these leaders instead were loading the people down with useless laws. Meanwhile they were ignored the real spiritual needs of their flock.
So, Jesus got steamed, and he fashioned a whip and drove both people and animals out of the temple court. It is a dramatic scene. And it tells us something very important about Jesus. All Jesus cares about is people.
This is so very important. At the heart of everything Jesus did was his love for people. Law wasn’t as important to him as people, though he was a law-abiding man. Tradition wasn’t as important to him as people, though he kept most of the sacred traditions of his people. Even religion wasn’t as important to him as people, even though the Sabbath always found him in the synagogue. But Jesus didn’t come to die for the law or for a tradition or even for religion. Jesus came and died for people. All people.
There may be people that you and I disapprove of. They may not have the same moral standards as we do. They may not worship as we do. They may be committed to a very different way of life, a way of life that we find disturbing. But, friend, Jesus loves them. And Jesus didn’t come to condemn them, but to save them. (John 3:17).
Seminary professor Tom Troeger tells about a childhood game he played when he was in grade school. The game was, “You’re out! You’re out! You can’t come in!” The way the game was played was that half of the children would form a circle. Everyone would face outward and holding hands. The other half of the children would be outside the circle. The ones in the circle would chant, “You’re out! You’re out! You can’t come in. You’re out! You’re out! You can’t come in.” And once they had chanted this twice, the children who were on the outside would rush as hard as they could and try to break into the circle. The ones in the circle could only hold hands, they couldn’t lock arms. And the ones who were trying to break in had to get in on the first try, they couldn’t keep pushing. (2)
You and I know about that game. We’ve seen it played out all our lives on both a child’s level and on an adult level, and sometimes, Heaven help us, it has been played in the name of Jesus. “You’re out! You’re out! You can’t come in!” That’s a chant we’ve used on all kinds of people. It certainly was the chant in the days of the Civil Rights marches. But there have been other times, other places, and, my, the hurt that has been done.
Martin Marty once said that you can divide religious people into two groups. Not the liberal and conservative, not the Catholics and the Protestants, but the mean and the non-mean. (3) That hurts, but it is also true.
Some of you are familiar with the writing of Madeleine L’Engle. She has inspired many people with her work. She reports that one Sunday she visited a unique Episcopal church in New York. A man stood up in that church and said, “I hope this is appropriate to ask. I was an abused child. I’m terrified of being an abusive father. I need help and prayer. “ Madeleine L’Engle knew then this was a church she could stay in. “Because people are willing to be vulnerable,” she says, “this church is very different. Sometimes it gets messy, but that’s okay. People are not afraid to ask questions. We’re able to admit we’re all broken, we’ve all made terrible mistakes, we’re all in need, and we all want things we don’t have.”
She said they meet in an upper room. The building was sold, and they gave all the beautiful things to the Metropolitan Museum. “There’s not a mink coat in the place,” she says, “and there’s not anyone else my age there either. They’re all very young, very alive. The five o’clock Eucharist is largely street people --on drugs, HIV-positive, or with AIDS.” One member told her it was the only place where he was called by his name. “It’s a church in which a mother whose 27-year-old son has died is free to say, ‘People think I’m terrible because I can’t pray.’ And I can reassure her, ‘You don’t have to pray. We’re praying for you. That’s what the body of Christ is about.’” (4) That is what the church is all about. Some churches are known for the people they keep out. My guess is that makes Jesus very angry.
All Jesus cares about is people. Fortunately, that includes you and me. We’re not worthy of it, but it includes us. That’s the message of the cross.
Our nation was transfixed a couple of years ago when cultural icon Martha Stewart went on trial. The perfect homemaker was going to make a jail cell her new home. Pastor Mike Neifert, in a sermon on the web, drew a powerful parallel to the life of Christ from Martha Stewart’s experience. He noted that all the thousands of dollars Martha Stewart spent on high-powered attorneys could not keep Martha Stewart out of prison. Appearances by high-profile friends like Bill Cosby and Rosie O’Donnell throughout the six-week trial did not affect the outcome. The jury was not swayed. The evidence condemned her. She was defenseless. Only one witness testified on her behalf. Every other person taking the stand pointed an accusing finger her way. Just fourteen hours after closing arguments, the jurors returned their verdicts on all four counts against her. Guilty. Guilty. Guilty. Guilty. The maximum penalty for each count? $250,000 and five years in prison. That’s a lot of money and a lot of time. Of course, the final judgment was far less severe. Martha Stewart in jail. Who would have thought? What a horrible experience for someone who, up to this point, had it all.
Imagine, asks Pastor Neifert, that Bill Cosby had stepped in front of a microphone after Martha’s sentence was handed down and asked the judge to punish him in her place. It didn’t happen, obviously, but imagine it. Just for a second play out this scenario in your mind. Imagine further that the judge okayed the swap. Bill goes to prison. Martha walks. Bill pays the fines. Martha is debt free. (5)
There is much about the theology of the cross we don’t understand. But Scripture is quite plain on this point: Jesus went to the cross on our behalf. Why? “God so loved the world . . .”
That is why Jesus drove the money-changers from the Temple. Jesus cares about people. What the money changers were doing had nothing to do with authentic religion. They were exploiting people. They were elevating the form of religion over the substance of religion. “God so loved the world . . .” That is what authentic religion is all about.
And that is the faith I invite you to make your own. Not legalistic faith that fills people with guilt and forgets to flood them with grace. Not moralistic faith that divides people into acceptable and unacceptable and forgets to remind us that we are all sinners saved by grace. I invite you to accept the authentic faith of Jesus, a faith that has one goal--to help us grow in love for one another and for God. A faith that tells us we really matter, not because there is anything remarkable about us, but because there is something remarkable about God. “God so loved the world . . .” Accept nothing less. This is the heart of Lent.
