John 2:12-25 · Jesus Clears the Temple
No Substitute
John 2:13-22
Sermon
by David T. Ball
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Jesus in the temple — oh, didn’t he show those money-changers who were desecrating the temple grounds with their money-grubbing business? Not to mention the mess that all the livestock were making! Out! Out! Out! He cleared them all out, those traders in things that didn’t belong in God’s house. And he had every right to do it, we tend to think. Serves them right, despoiling sacred space with their commerce — profiting off of the desire of the faithful to do something pleasing to God. Exploitation. Good riddance!

That’s how I usually think of Jesus’ actions, but this time it strikes me that there’s something that’s actually a little puzzling about all of this. I mean, just what was so bad about what was going on in the temple — the buying and selling of the animals that at that time anyway were commonly used for ceremonial sacrifices? Was it that the money-changers were charging exorbitant fees to exchange certain kinds of money for the kind of money that the animal merchants would accept? Was it that all of this would have been okay if it were taking place off-site, maybe across the street, off temple property? Or was it that Jesus meant to abolish the whole practice of animal sacrifice, as excessively cruel to these living beings that after all are creatures of God like we are?

The passage itself doesn’t really deal with these questions. “Take these things out of here! Stop making my Father’s house a marketplace!” Jesus says, without really explaining what’s so bad about the combination of religion and commerce, especially when some kind of commerce in sacrificial animals was necessary to facilitate the established temple practice of sacrifices and tithes. Maybe we’re supposed to be able to figure out why Jesus cleansed the temple, but for me this is a passage that moves along too fast, from the meaning of the cleansing of the temple, whatever that may be, to the comparison between the temple, which had been under construction for years, and Jesus’ body and very being, which would be raised much more quickly, not like a building, but as a resurrection, just three days after his death.

This passage moves along too quickly, so let’s slow it down. It occurs to me that we might think it’s a good thing, rather than some kind of abomination, for the faithful to part with a little of their money as an expression of their faith, symbolizing things like the transitory nature of material possessions — “You can’t take it with you!” I’m reminded of the old joke about how I’ve never seen a hearse pulling a U-Haul. Whatever happens when we die, one thing’s for certain: Our earthly possessions will be left behind. It occurs to me that the practice of parting with some of one’s money as an act of faith can symbolize how all that we “have” really belongs to God. We are only entrusted to be its stewards for a little while, so that when we give our tithes and offerings, we might sing, “We give thee but thine own, what e’er the gifts may be. All that we have is thine alone, a trust, O Lord, from thee.”

There are these and many more possible positive perspectives on what was going on in the temple, and it’s not clear why Jesus didn’t see it that way.

Unless there’s a concern that we can discern that Jesus felt seriously enough for him to jeopardize, at this early stage in his ministry, his freedom to continue to travel and preach. Because it wouldn’t have been far-fetched at all for the Roman authorities to have reacted to this very disruptive disturbance of the peace at a time when thousands of Jews were streaming into Jerusalem to celebrate the Passover by arresting Jesus, locking him up, and leaving him there for a good long time!

The concern that may have been the thing that motivated Jesus to do what he did here must have been very important to him. While, of course, there’s no way to know what that concern may have been with certainty, the lack of any easy explanation seems to suggest that it’s okay to struggle and dig, and here’s what I have determined.

When we use our money symbolically, while that may be legitimate to a certain extent, the giving of money alone is no substitute for giving our very selves in faithfulness to God. We know it’s not how much we give — remember that God appreciated the poor widow who gave a few small coins more than the wealthy who gave far larger sums. What made her donation so significant was that “she out of her poverty has put in everything she had” (Mark 12:44).

God accepts no substitute for ourselves. Remember the declarations of the Old Testament prophets, that God despises our religious ceremonies (Amos 5:21). Over and over, we as God’s people have tried — and we keep trying — to substitute certain ostensibly religious activities in the place of a whole-hearted commitment to God. We’ve tried brief periods of fasting, while continuing to mistreat other people the rest of the time. That got us nowhere, as we admitted in Isaiah’s day (Isaiah 58). God would much rather have us live consistently, with integrity, in all aspects of our lives, in whole-hearted faithfulness to God.

So what was so bad about the money-changers and the animal vendors in the temple? They constituted an organized system that reinforced the notion that God’s favor can be bought. Whether one bought and sacrificed a small bird or large livestock, this still represented an organized effort that proceeded as if God would be satisfied with these substitutes for our very selves.

We may not think that highly of ourselves at times, and we may get mixed up into thinking that God would much rather have something other than our love and faith. We need something dramatic, like this rather shocking story of Jesus wreaking havoc at the temple, to remind us that God accepts no substitutes for a heart open to relationship with God. So forget all of those other things that we do because we think we have to do them. God wants only our hearts.

CSS Publishing Company, Inc., Sermons on the Gospel Readings: Sermons for Sundays in Lent, Momentous Moment, by David T. Ball