John 2:12-25 · Jesus Clears the Temple
Holy Vexation
John 2:12-25
Sermon
by Robert Noblett
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We have all probably had the experience of being in the presence of someone who is normally composed and tranquil, and having that person suddenly erupt. A topic is introduced and immediately goes to the quick. It all seems so out of character. 

I can imagine Christian folks having a similar reaction to this story (found, incidentally, in all of the Gospels) of Jesus cleansing the temple. If you are fifty years or older and remember singing the old gospel song that talks about Jesus calling us "softly and tenderly," this story gets your attention. If you are any age and have had contact with violence in your personal and/or family life, this story gets your attention. Or, if you are familiar with the many times in the ministry of Jesus when his behavior is marked by patience, compassion, and gentleness, again, this story gets your attention. It has that stinging quality we associate with anyone who is on a tare. Considering Jesus' usual deportment, this episode from Jesus' life seems more acute than chronic, more an unusual explosion than a lifestyle. 

So what do we do with it? What is in this story you can take home and feast on this week?  It is popular, for openers, to see in this story evidence for the humanness of Jesus. Like all of us, Jesus got angry and received anger too. Raymond Council captured vexation in Jesus' life in a litany he wrote years back. The worship leader in this litany lists those times of vexation. They go as follows:

Lord, you who were angry at Simon Peter and called him Satan,
Lord, you who were angry at the super religious and compared them to whitewashed tombs full of death,
Lord, you who were angry at the moneylenders and overturned their tables,
Lord, you who were angry at those who gave a scorpion calling it a fish and a stone calling it bread,
Lord, you who were angry at all that keeps people separated, walled in, cut off and locked up,
Lord, you at whom the world was angry and who took upon yourself that rage, endured and transformed it through the cross ...1 

As members of the Christian community we might, by extension, say to ourselves: "It's okay for me to be angry, as well."  But look at the difference between what triggers our anger and what led Jesus to become vexed. We are apt to get vexed when the supermarket fails to open that additional lane when all the others are backed up; when we encounter a driver going fifty miles an hour in a seventy mile an hour zone; when someone grabs the very Beanie Baby we wanted and there are no more. A news story out of Grand Rapids told of how a trucker became enraged because an 85-year-old man maneuvered his car in a way that rankled the trucker. The trucker subsequently saw the man pull into a gas station. A quarter of a mile later, the trucker pulled over to the side of the road, ran back the quarter of a mile to that gas station, and -- as the 85-year-old was filling his gas tank -- pummeled him to the ground. Such behavior is categorically inexcusable. 

Jesus' anger was light years from the kind of vexation that often grabs us. It was vexation directed at grave miscarriages of what was just, civil, and pleasing to God. It is the counsel of the Psalter that we "be angry, but sin not" (Psalm 4:4). Jesus knew how to be angry without sinning; we often find it difficult to do that. 

But there is more here than just an example of Jesus' vexation, and finding in his, justification for ours. There is something about Jesus' vexation that transcends the immediate focus of his attention. Look with me for a moment at the people selling cattle, sheep, and doves, and the money changers. All this was part of the temple machinery. Cattle, sheep, and doves were used as burnt offerings, and since Passover was a pilgrimage feast, people would have come from long distances and couldn't bring such animals with them. What's more, the temple tax could not be paid with Greek or Roman coinage because these coins carried a human image (the emperor's head) and foreign currency had to be changed into legal currency; hence the need for the money changers. Were there abuses in this system? Of course there were. But Jesus, as painted by John, is concerned about the entire system. As has always been the case, religious institutions can tragically lose focus, major on minors, and become stumbling blocks to the very ends for which they were created in the first place. 

Certainly this can happen to the clergy who are a part of such institutions. It's not uncommon for clergy to be approached by people who want them to supplement their incomes by hawking this or that product within the life of a congregation. Imagine, for example, a minister taking communion to someone's home and then, following the communion service, awkwardly segueing to the point where he says: "By the way, did I tell you about this jim-dandy product I am now making available that will remove resistant grease stains, help your tomatoes grow, and cure your arthritis when topically applied?" Clearly this would constitute pastoral abuse. 

But look as well at the institution itself. It is deceptively easy to lose sight of why we are here and, like an unmanned garden hose to which a powerful force of water is introduced, squanders our energies in any number of directions. 

Any parish worth its salt has a governing body of some sort that oversees various boards and committees. When it comes to undertakings like securing ushers and greeters and church school teachers, or running out to buy grape juice for communion, it is absolutely essential that people see the deeper reasons for doing what they are doing, else they fall prey to a sense of rote void of meaning. This is why Paul counseled the Corinthians to "... do everything for the glory of God" (1 Corinthians 10:31). Ultimately we are here not to do all that we do as ends in themselves; we do them because we understand them to be manifestations of our mission to share the love and purposes of God as we have come to know them in Jesus of Nazareth. 

Primarily the cross is a symbolic reminder of what has been wrought in Jesus the Christ. But it is also a reminder of the need for both the horizontal and vertical dimensions in life. The board and committee work, the programs we make possible, the monies we give, the bulletins we run and all the rest has to do with the horizontal dimension. But the horizontal can only be placed in its proper context when it is seen against the vertical. The ubiquitous spire that sits atop so many worship centers is a visible reminder of this vertical dimension that gives meaning to all that we do, however mundane and routine it may seem at the time. 

Only ultimately are we in the educational business, the emergency aid business, the space lending business, the publication business, the music business, the day care business, the building maintenance business or the grant business; ultimately we are in the salvation business and all that we do should be soaked to the core with, and radiate to the greatest extent possible, a passion for making available to folks the good news of what has come to pass in and through Jesus, who for the Christian community is the Christ. That is the one essence that makes us different from a school, or a social agency, or a business, or an employer, or a performance center. 

So what we have in the end here is, yes, a story of vexation, but a story of vexation that focuses not on what is trivial and excusable, but on what is absolutely central and critical, and that kind of vexation can only rightly be modified by the adjective holy. John is writing this many decades after Jesus' death and resurrection, and he is writing to help the people of God see that their proper focus is not ultimately on matters institutional, but on the figure of Jesus and what Jesus would have us be about. How easy it is to focus on, and become split over, matters related to Jesus himself, when Jesus would have rather have us focused elsewhere. How deceptively easy it is to become caught up in dynamics related to the perpetuation of the institution and its own interests, having lost sight of matters related to fundamental mission. 

Jesus says to the temple vendors: "Stop making my Father's house a marketplace!" (v. 16). And John has Jesus' disciples remembering a text from the Psalter that applies: "Zeal for your house will consume me" (Psalm 69:9) -- a reference to the religious establishment and the role it would play in his death. In so many words, Jesus is saying to his and succeeding generations: Beware of becoming so caught up in perpetuating what is ancillary, derivative and secondary that you lose sight of what is primary, essential, and foremost. 

This is not just a problem of religious institutions; it is a problem throughout the culture. It is lawyers spending inordinate amounts of time at the sidebar; it is public school teachers having to tend to matters that used to be the province of Mom and Dad; it is the medical doctor having to spend inordinate amounts of time on insurance issues; it is insurance companies making decisions that intrude significantly on the physician's prerogatives in providing medical care; it is even the automobile companies who no longer want to sell me a means of conveyance from one place to another, but have gone into the theological business by telling me that their product is going to meet the needs of my soul! 

There is a time for holy vexation, a time to rise up and remind the church that its fundamental passion is its abiding love for God and the things of God.  Something that Harry Fosdick wrote in l952 sounds amazingly applicable today: 

The real God is Purpose, hard at work getting something done on earth to redeem our race from its sin and misery, calling every man to some task which, in the place where he is put, no one can do in his stead. 

Ah, Church of Christ, the proclamation of such faith is your task today. You fritter away your strength on trivial sectarianisms. You insult the intelligent and alienate the serious with petty dogmatisms that do not matter. You fiddle trifling tunes while the world burns. But back of all that, still the glory of the true church within the church, is a message without which mankind is doomed. If you really believe the Christian gospel -- God behind us, his cause committed to us, his power available for us -- then proclaim it, live it, implement it, for humanity's hope depends upon it.2 

That's holy vexation, and holy vexation is very much a part of the reformed and reforming tradition in which we stand.


1. Raymond Council, "Lord, You Who Were Angry" (Alive Now!, Nashville: The Upper Room, May/June, 1983), p. 23.

2. Harry Emerson Fosdick, A Faith For Tough Times (New York: Harper & Brothers, Publishers, 1952), p. 124.

CSS Publishing Company, Sermons for Sundays in Lent and Easter, by Robert Noblett