Church Turned Inside-Out: John 2:13-22 - Third Sunday in Lent

¹³The Passover of the Jews was near, and Jesus went up to Jerusalem. ¹⁴In the temple he found people selling cattle, sheep, and doves, and the money changers seated at their tables. ¹⁵Making a whip of cords, he drove all of them out of the temple, both the sheep and the cattle. He also poured out the coins of the money changers and overturned their tables. ¹⁶He told those who were selling the doves, “Take these things out of here! Stop making my Father’s house a marketplace!” ¹⁷His disciples remembered that it was written, “Zeal for your house will consume me.” ¹⁸The Jews then said to him, “What sign can you show us for doing this?” ¹⁹Jesus answered them, “Destroy this temple, and in three days I will raise it up.” ²⁰The Jews then said, “This temple has been under construction for forty-six years, and will you raise it up in three days?” ²¹But he was speaking of the temple of his body. ²²After he was raised from the dead, his disciples remembered that he had said this; and they believed the scripture and the word that Jesus had spoken. (NRSV)

Open by Hernán Piñera.  CC BY-SA 2.0 on flickr

Last month, a picture began circulating on social media of Pope Francis addressing a crowd of people—while holding the hand of a little girl with Down’s syndrome who walked up onto the dais and sat down right beside him.

Her parents frantically tried to call her to come back, but she stayed at his side—smiling the whole time.

Via twitter

I truly believe Jesus would’ve done exactly as the pope did.  However, the Church hasn’t been so kind to children.  The unspoken rule has been that “children are to be seen and not heard”—and unless they’re in the Christmas pageant, they shouldn’t be on the dais. 

But in our zeal to maintain an orderly and the sacred atmosphere in worship, have we barricaded the Gospel behind our own interests?

We can see Jesus’ reaction to this tragic error in today’s Gospel. 

It’s Passover, and Jesus is at the Jerusalem temple—where he sees people selling cattle, sheep, and doves.  Money changers are sitting at tables, exchanging Roman currency into Jewish currency.

Jesus fashions a whip of cords, and begins scattering the animals and overturning the money changers’ tables.  “Stop making my Father’s house a marketplace!” he shouts.

I need to be clear here that the sale of sacrificial animals and the currency exchanges are mandated in the Law of Moses—and exist out of practical necessity.  Unless you live in Jerusalem, would you want to drag a lamb for hundreds of miles?  And Roman currency contained graven images of emperors who were worshipped as gods. 

Jesus, in his zeal, is certainly responding to the price gouging and profiteering that would’ve been occurring here.  But in a larger sense, Jesus is inaugurating a new era where God’s presence isn’t walled up in the temple, with access restricted to certain people on certain days.  No longer will you have to buy your way in with animal sacrifices and proper currency.  God’s presence is now embodied in Jesus himself.  As it is so beautifully written in John’s Gospel, “the Word became flesh and dwelled among us, full of grace and truth.”  In Jesus, God can be known, loved, and honored in human flesh. 

But how do we, as people of God, steward the presence of Jesus?

We are the Body of Christ—but we worship him in this temple built of concrete, brick, and stone.  So much of what we do feels sacred because “we’ve always done it that way.”  And while there’s nothing inherently wrong with that, it is our sinful inclination to build up temples around ourselves, where Jesus exists only to serve our needs and wants, and reinforce the rightness of what we believe and do.  “My church” leads to “my Jesus,” with music, liturgies, buildings, furnishings, programs, and ministries built around my preferences.  Jesus and the Church become commodities—things that exist for “what I get out of it.” 

When you make a commodity out of Jesus, you make commodities out of people.  We treat fellow servants as servants of my church and my Jesus.  All the time, we ask, “what can we do to attract more people?”  Why do we ask?  Because we want to share Jesus with them—or for what we get out of them?

In churches all across the nation, there are unspoken rules, like “if you have children, they’d better be on their best behavior at all times.  They’d better not spill Cheerios on the carpet.”  If you’re a youth, you’re a free labor force to do things the adults don’t want to do in exchange for pizza.  If you’re a new volunteer, you must do things our way, but don’t ask too many questions.  Don’t try and change anything.

The same thing going on in the Temple two thousand years ago is still happening—we become so entrenched in our own rules and practices that we suffocate his presence.  Jesus is not our possession.  His Church is not our possession. 

But Jesus announces that he is breaking out of the temples we’re so apt to build up around him.  He is breaking out of the stale doldrums of the status quo.  Not for our sake—but because God so loves the world. 

There is no greater gift than to belong to the Body of Christ as Jesus takes on our human flesh and dwells among us.  You are here for Jesus to draw near to you within this Body.  Jesus will take on flesh in the people you meet and in the transformed life you share.  There is no denying be no denying the presence of Christ when you see him in a neighbor who embraces the truth that they are loved by God; when they eat the food of God’s goodness; when they embrace their belonging in the Body of Christ. 

Last Sunday, twelve people in ages ranging from ninety to unborn gathered in our parlor to dream with Jesus about how we as Christ’s Body can more effectively invite others into the resurrected life we have received.  Like it or not, the world has changed.  People’s needs have changed.  Many of the old ways of doing church don’t work anymore.  But as the Church of yesterday dies, a new one rises—because Jesus is dying to be known and loved.  He is dying to make his presence known as people live their lives. 

We seek to grow this church not so that it can survive, but so that the presence of Christ can be magnified to us who are part of the church—and to the neighbor who is not.  Jesus takes on flesh in the lives we share.  We are the Body of Christ to bring God’s love and promises to life—and there is no better way to experience Christ’s presence for yourself than to help someone else do the very same.