Rekindling our Faith! Rekindling our Imagination - Part 3

Grace and peace to you from the Triune God: Creator, Redeemer, and Sustainer. Amen.

What is your image of God? When I say “God,” what’s the first picture or image that comes to mind?

I had an interesting experience this week at the pantry. Kentucky is an unusual place theologically for me. In Minnesota, it’s easier. For the most part, everyone is either Lutheran or Roman Catholic. And, even if they’re no longer active or don’t attend a church, as you talk to people you still get a sense that the embedded theology - the belief systems that are deeply and almost unconsciously embedded - come from Catholic or Lutheran roots.

Kentucky is different. Here there is more of a hodge-podge of belief systems that come from the traditions of those who emigrated here - such as the Scotch-Irish, who were often Presbyterian. Or the German Lutheran. But, some of the belief systems here seem much more home grown. And that what I ran into this week.

As you know, we’ve been holding a healing service on Wednesday mornings before the start of pantry. In conversation with that group, we decided to add a simple service of holy communion once a month. This week was our first communion service. As it came time to distribute communion, I offered it to one of our pantry regulars and he refused. Which is completely his decision. But, after worship was concluded, he felt the need to explain, I think, his refusal to me. So, he mentioned that he’d grown up as a “hardscrabble Baptist.” A hard scrabble Baptist.

I came to learn that hardscrabble was not simply an adjective describing a tough Baptist life. But, instead, that this was a particular division in the Baptist church - at least according to him - that does not believe in the New Testament. Which explained why he refused communion. And the more we talked, the more I learned that hard scrabble Baptists believe that only the Old Testament, or the Hebrew scriptures, are valid because, as he said, they come from God. Whereas, the New Testament comes from man.

This was a new one for me. Thank you, Kentucky! However, as we spoke, I couldn’t help wondering what his image of God was. Because if one only believes in the God of the first testament - a God that appears to be a pretty angry and violent God (and I have thoughts on that to be shared another time). If he believes in the God of the first testament, what must his image of God be. And, connected with this, how does he find hope?

This is what the writer of Hebrews is up to. Now I haven’t preached the first two sermons in this series to you, so, my apologies if this is at all repetitive. But the community to which the letter to the Hebrews is written is an expatriate community of Greek or Hellenistic Jews. Far from home. Yet, still bound nostalgically to their native land and even to the sacrificial religious system that was still functioning in the temple. Not yet destroyed.

The challenge this Hebrew community of faith was facing was one of apathy. Longing for the religious system of their youth, their faith was becoming empty. People were drifting away. Their congregation was losing its sense of vitality. Gosh, have you ever experienced this?

So, the writer of Hebrews is trying to jump start their imagination. To provide them with different images of Christ. To get their imaginations going and, particularly, to expand their understanding of who Jesus was. And why Jesus mattered.

So, in the first week of our readings, we heard a “high” Christology. That sounded much like the Jesus of John’s gospel. That in former times, God spoke through the prophets. But, that in these times, in this new age, God speaks to us through God’s Son. God’s heir. God’s co-creator. Someone who is the exact imprint of who God is. So that, finally, we begin to truly understand the nature of God.

Then, in the second week, we heard a “lower” Christology. About Jesus as pioneer. Keeping with our Kentucky theme - Jesus as Daniel Boone. Paving the way for us. Going before us. Our brother. Our human brother. Who knows what it is like to live our life. To experience our joys. To weep with us in sadness. To understand us fully. Just as Israel’s high priest understood the Jewish people.

Do you see the skill of the writer? How he seeks to connect Jesus to the religious system the Hebrew community was nostalgic for. A system of sacrifices, led by a human high priest, called and appointed by God to make sacrifices on behalf of the people. Sacrifices that were to atone for the sins of the people.

It is this image - Jesus as high priest - that the writer to the Hebrews expands on in today’s lesson.

Since, then, we have a great high priest who has passed through the heavens, Jesus, the Son of God, let us hold fast to our confession. For we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but we have one who in every respect has been tested as we are, yet without sin. Let us therefore approach the throne of grace with boldness, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need.

Every high priest chosen from among mortals is put in charge of things pertaining to God on their behalf, to offer gifts and sacrifices for sins. He is able to deal gently with the ignorant and wayward, since he himself is subject to weakness; and because of this he must offer sacrifice for his own sins as well as for those of the people. And one does not presume to take this honor, but takes it only when called by God, just as Aaron was.

So also Christ did not glorify himself in becoming a high priest, but was appointed by the one who said to him,

“You are my Son,
    today I have begotten you”;

as he says also in another place,

“You are a priest forever,
    according to the order of Melchizedek.”

In the days of his flesh, Jesus offered up prayers and supplications, with loud cries and tears, to the one who was able to save him from death, and he was heard because of his reverent submission. Although he was a Son, he learned obedience through what he suffered; and having been made perfect, he became the source of eternal salvation for all who obey him, having been designated by God a high priest according to the order of Melchizedek. -Hebrews 4:14-5:10 NRSV

So what was a high priest? Because we hear the title “priest” different images may come to mind. Some good. Some, perhaps, not so good. But the high priest was not simply like a priest or a pastor in today’s church. The high priest in Israel had a specific role. And identity. The high priest was called specifically by God. Set apart. From generations of other high priests. To act in a specific role. One in charge of all things pertaining to God. And, specifically, to offer gifts and sacrifices on behalf of the people for their sins.

Yet, even though set apart, the high priest was not immune from sin. He was as human as you and I. Subject to human weakness. Needing to sacrifice on behalf of himself as well as the rest of the people. It was this weakness - this human-ness - though, that made him sympathetic to the people.

Yet, it is, in a way, like being a pastor. Called by God. Feeling unworthy. Struggling as you do between my saint and the sinner sides. Often looked upon as a leader and example, and knowing that there is likely no bad thought that you have had that I haven’t. No mistake that you’ve made that I haven’t. Yet, understanding your struggles. And what it means to be human.

This is why the writer to the Hebrews names Jesus as the “great high priest.” Because like the high priest of old, he, too, was called to the position of Son by God. Called and appointed to serve God’s people. To incarnate. To become human. To experience what it is that we experience. Our joys. Our sadness. Our wins. Our losses. Our struggles. Everything that we experience. Everything that is human. And then to invite us to approach him boldly in prayer. To Share our joys. Our sadness. Our wins. Our losses. Our struggles.

This is the importance of the incarnation. God knows who we are in Jesus. God knows who we really are. And has sympathy for us. And, then, opens the door for us. Through Jesus. Who became the sacrifice. For us. For you. And for me. Becoming the source of life and salvation for you and I, and all who believe in him.

May you reflect on this. May it spark new life in you. May it jumpstart your imagination. And, may it rekindle your faith. In God. And in the love God has for you and for all people. Amen.

Embodied Faith: Living Together

We declare to you what was from the beginning, what we have heard, what we have seen with our eyes, what we have looked at and touched with our hands, concerning the word of life— this life was revealed, and we have seen it and testify to it, and declare to you the eternal life that was with the Father and was revealed to us— we declare to you what we have seen and heard so that you also may have fellowship with us; and truly our fellowship is with the Father and with his Son Jesus Christ. We are writing these things so that our joy may be complete. 1 John 1:1-4 (NRSV)

Grace and peace to you from God, the Father, and the Lord Jesus Christ. Amen.

I have been very angry this week. I have to admit this to you this morning. I have been very angry.

It actually started late last week, when the news of what was happening at the border began to break. I was in Texas at an intensive at Lutheran Seminary of the Southwest to learn a little more Spanish for use in worship and to better understand elements of Latino culture and patterns of ministry as we begin our ministry next month on the horse farms with the Backside and Shiloh Methodist. I was with a group of Lutherans from across the country--both white and Hispanic--who were considering or already doing ministry among people of Latin descent in the church. As time passed, we began to get to know each other and hear and share experiences. We began to grow together, to go more deeply into relationship with each other. And to become friends. And, then, the news hit. And, suddenly, in the midst of my new Latino friends, all I could feel was a sense of shame and embarrassment at how these families were being treated at the border. I got angry. 

Then, on Monday, I got home late after a long day of travel. I got this text from my son: “Why is our family filled with stupid people? How many do I have to block?” When I replied to ask him what was going on, he directed me to Facebook. So, I went online and found an ugly discussion that was happening, the result of responses by family members of my own generation to a post made by my niece in Chicago about the migrant situation. Responses that attacked her as stupid and ignorant, that insulted her intelligence, and, then, of all things, defended their right to insult her because she was family and, no matter what, family was family. A family, I might add, that came to this country with no restrictions or quotas. A family whose wealth came in large part as a result of gifts of land from the government through the Homestead Act. And a family that had to change either the spelling or pronunciation of its name to sound more “American” in the midst of the anti-immigrant/anti-German fervor of World War 2. 

I got angrier.

It continued to grow throughout the week. The tipping point was yesterday. At the pantry, we have a family that I may have mentioned before. Great-grandparents who have had to take in their three great-grandchildren. We first met them a year or so ago. Overwhelmed and exhausted, one day at the pantry they finally opened up and shared everything they were going through. Their love for their great-grandchildren, their own medical issues that challenged their ability to care for them as well as they wanted, their grief at the loss of their life as they had envisioned it, their fear over their financial situation and fear over what might happen if one of them should get sick. Over time, we’ve helped them with food, with money, and with a housing situation that has been deplorable at best. 

Yesterday, one of our pantry volunteers and I went to their house to help them pack because they are moving. I was a little delayed getting there. When I finally did, this volunteer came out to meet me and to update me on the progress. And, then, she shared with me the shame the great-grandmother was feeling with our presence there. Her shame at how dirty the house was. And how cluttered it had become. But, mostly, she was embarrassed that we were seeing it. Seeing them, really. Seeing how poor and and how overwhelmed they really were. And all I could think about is how we have shamed poor people in our country to the point that they have begun to shame themselves.

I got angrier.

And, then, it was time for me to write my sermon. Somehow, the particular text in our lectionary that I am called to preach on each week is never an accident. This week is no different. This week, we are beginning a 4-part series on 1st John. We spent almost all of this past spring in the Gospel of John. The epistle of John is like a sequel to that gospel. But, it is written in a somewhat changed context. At the time the gospel was written, everyone pretty much agreed that Jesus was a human being. The question was over the claim of Jesus’ divinity. Remember the questions we heard asked of Jesus throughout our gospel lessons earlier this year? “Who are you?” and “Where do you come from?” 

By the time the epistle (or letter) of 1st John was written, things had changed. The early church had all reached the understanding that Jesus was God. But a dispute had grown in the community around his humanity. Some had begun to lose touch with the tangible reality of the incarnation. With Jesus in the flesh. The seeing, touching, and hearing of Jesus, the human being. So, the letter to the community was intended to address this dispute. To affirm Jesus’ divinity, but, particularly, to stress the tangibility, the humanity, and the community of Jesus. 

Why is this important? Why is the fact that Jesus was human so important? Not only for the early Christian community, but also for us today?

Here’s why. When we view Jesus as only divine. When we view Jesus only as God and not human, as well, it leads us to a faith that is private and individualized. If my spiritual experience is with a God who is only divine and not human, with a God who has not come to earth, who has not incarnated or who was embodied with humanity, then, my own spirituality--my faith--doesn’t require that I become incarnated. That I become embodied in community. In humanity. That my spirituality be communal, instead of individual. 

The incarnation of Jesus--of Jesus coming to us in human form and being embodied among us--requires a discipleship of us that is also incarnated. It requires an embodied faith, where we live in community. The primary message of 1st John is what it looks like to be in intentional community as disciples of Christ. 1st John recognizes that God “speaks” an embodied word--the Word of Life--that will be repeatedly identified as love. Authentic love is not some abstraction. Authentic love comes through speech, through action, and through presence. That is the manner of God’s communication to us through Jesus--the embodied Word of Life. It was what will also characterize what authentic faith and authentic community looks like for Jesus’ followers. 

So, for us, authentic faith and authentic community means that in our speech, in our actions, and in our presence, we embody God’s love, just as God embodied God’s love in Jesus Christ. It means that characterizing an entire group of people as thieves and murderers is just wrong. It means that characterizing all poor people as “lazy” and “good-for-nothing” is just wrong. And, just in case you’re feeling a little self-righteous at the moment, it also means that characterizing and entire group of people as lacking empathy, or inhumane, or racist, is also wrong.

But, mostly, it means and it requires that we must go deeper with each other into relationship. To be embodied with each other as Jesus was embodied with the first disciples and is still embodied among us today in Word and Sacrament. It means we must hear each other’s stories, mourn with each other, laugh with each other, cry together, celebrate together, choose our words in love rather than in anger, and then repent together when we fail to do this. Because we will fail. But, we will also trust that, even in our failure, our God continues to forgive us, and to form us, and to shape us into God’s people. Into the beloved community. It is this--love of God and love of neighbor that makes our joy complete.

I have one more story for you from this week. At the pantry on Wednesday, I was approached by one of our pantry clients. For the past 3 or 4 years, this client has cared for her ex-husband as his health declined because there was no one else to take him in. He died earlier this year. For the past few months she has shared her grief with me and we have mourned together. She came to talk to me this Wednesday because she was afraid and worried. She had received a call from her doctor’s office. There was something questionable about her liver results and she was being referred immediately to a specialist, who she was scheduled to see this past Friday. As she talked, I listened. I listened to how afraid she was to go to that appointment. How afraid she was that they might find cancer. And then we prayed. 

On my way home from helping our other pantry client pack, I received a call. She had gone to the doctor and found out that she would be okay. She was ecstatic. And so was I! Because comes through relationship.

I’m not angry anymore. Because this past week has, once again, taught me of the blessings of going deeper into relationship with others, especially others I normally wouldn’t. This is what an embodied faith looks like. It is the knowledge that I am a beloved child of God. And so are you. And so is everyone. And when we seek to be in relationship with one another in all our differences and all our messiness and in all our sameness and in all our beauty--just as God made us to be. Then, and only then, will our joy be complete. 

May you find such joy this week! Amen.

Preached June 24, 2018, at Grace & Glory Lutheran Church, Goshen, KY.
Pentecost 5
Readings: John 1:14-16, 1 John 1:1-4

Good News in the Garden

Early on the first day of the week, while it was still dark, Mary Magdalene came to the tomb and saw that the stone had been removed from the tomb. So she ran and went to Simon Peter and the other disciple, the one whom Jesus loved, and said to them, “They have taken the Lord out of the tomb, and we do not know where they have laid him.” Then Peter and the other disciple set out and went toward the tomb. The two were running together, but the other disciple outran Peter and reached the tomb first. He bent down to look in and saw the linen wrappings lying there, but he did not go in. Then Simon Peter came, following him, and went into the tomb. He saw the linen wrappings lying there, and the cloth that had been on Jesus’ head, not lying with the linen wrappings but rolled up in a place by itself. Then the other disciple, who reached the tomb first, also went in, and he saw and believed; for as yet they did not understand the scripture, that he must rise from the dead. Then the disciples returned to their homes.

But Mary stood weeping outside the tomb. As she wept, she bent over to look into the tomb; and she saw two angels in white, sitting where the body of Jesus had been lying, one at the head and the other at the feet. They said to her, “Woman, why are you weeping?” She said to them, “They have taken away my Lord, and I do not know where they have laid him.” When she had said this, she turned around and saw Jesus standing there, but she did not know that it was Jesus. Jesus said to her, “Woman, why are you weeping? Whom are you looking for?” Supposing him to be the gardener, she said to him, “Sir, if you have carried him away, tell me where you have laid him, and I will take him away.” Jesus said to her, “Mary!” She turned and said to him in Hebrew, “Rabbouni!” (which means Teacher). Jesus said to her, “Do not hold on to me, because I have not yet ascended to the Father. But go to my brothers and say to them, ‘I am ascending to my Father and your Father, to my God and your God.’” Mary Magdalene went and announced to the disciples, “I have seen the Lord”; and she told them that he had said these things to her.  John 20:1-18 (NRSV)

Grace and peace to you from our resurrected Lord, our Good Shepherd, our Savior, Jesus Christ. Amen.

One of the gifts that our shared ministry has brought to us has been the move to the Narrative Lectionary in both of our congregations. This has, at least for us, and I think for you at Shiloh, too--it has allowed us, first, to dwell more deeply into the rich traditions and stories of the Hebrew scriptures. Which were the traditions that Jesus and his disciples came out of. 

It has also allowed us to dwell more deeply in one gospel. Often, in the Revised Common Lectionary, we would jump between Gospels, especially during festival times, such as Easter and Christmas. Dwelling deeply in John this year has helped to open up for me and, hopefully, for you, this Fourth Gospel that we know as John.

Here, at Grace and Glory, there has been a small group of us who have been more deeply immersing ourselves in John outside of what we have heard on Sunday mornings. One of the things that we’ve noticed in this gospel is the importance of location. Jesus moves around a lot. From Galilee to Jerusalem and back. And to places in between.

So, as I was reading our text for tonight in chapter 20 of John and as I was preparing to preach, it was impossible for me to ignore its location. A garden.

Now, unlike the synoptic Gospels, John’s garden is not the Garden of Gethsemane. It is simply, a garden. It’s first mentioned in chapter 18, shortly before his arrest. (Jn 18:1-2)

This garden, in John, is a place where Jesus and his disciples frequently went. A place for them to be together. To hang out. To be friends. It was a place of intimacy. A place of relationship.

It was also a place of safety. When Judas comes to betray Jesus, along with the soldiers and the Jewish police, Jesus goes out of the garden to meet them. Leaving the rest of the disciples behind. 

And even when the altercation happens between Peter and Malchus, and Peter cuts off his ear, this occurs just outside the garden where the rest of the disciples remain, free from the violence that has just occurred.

Safe. Protected from harm. One’s mind goes back to the words that Jesus has spoken in an earlier discourse in chapter 10: “I am the gate of the sheep. Whoever enters through me will be saved. They will come in and go out and find pasture. They will have life. Abundant life.”

But the garden and its immediate surroundings are not only the setting for Jesus’ arrest, but also for his crucifixion and his burial. (Jn 19:41-42). 

This is typical for John. Just when we have a sense of place--that this garden is a place of safety and security, of intimacy and relationship, the gospel writer tosses in a contrast. This place of life and relationship is also a place of death and the seeming end of intimacy. 

John does this so well, this juxtaposition of contrasts: death and life, darkness and light, incarnation and ascension, humanity and divinity. All held so tightly together.

But the crucifixion and burial are not the end of John’s use of this location. It’s the setting for our text tonight. Mary comes to the tomb. Sees it open. And runs back to tell Peter and the beloved disciple that Jesus’ body has been taken away. 

Then, interestingly, Mary returns to the tomb. In the garden. She meets the angels. And then, unknowingly, meets Jesus. In the garden. So, it's no surprise that she should mistake him for the gardener. 

By locating the crucifixion and burial and first resurrection appearance in a garden, the gospel writer has taken us full circle back to the opening words of this Gospel. “In the beginning was the Word and the Word was with God.” But, not only full circle to the beginning of John, but way back to Genesis--the reading we heard tonight. “In the beginning, God created…” And it brings our mind back to that first garden--the Garden of Eden. The place where God and God’s human creations abided together. Intimately. Lovingly. Abundantly.

This is what the resurrection points to and, particularly, the resurrection that is located in a garden. It is a message of life. Of abundant life with God. Of abiding. And intimacy. Of love and relationship.

While death may be the reality of life, resurrection is the promise that death is not the final end of life. That out of the darkness comes light. And life. Resurrection is nothing short of re-creation.

In the garden of the resurrection that morning, this is what Mary discovered. When, Jesus called her by name, there was recognition and intimacy. But, more than that, there was a re-defining for Mary. A re-creation of who she was. “Rabbouni,” she calls Jesus, using the very same title that the first disciples gave him. “Teacher,” she called him. Recognizing now that she, too, has been called as Jesus’ disciples. Because in John there are no set categories for who can be a disciple.

On this Easter eve, may you, too, hear your call from Jesus. Your own unique call. And may you live into it just as Mary did--as God’s new creation with a message to be shared with all the world. A message of love and intimacy and relationship. A message safety and hope. A message of life--of abundant life. Amen.

Fully. Intimately. Abundantly. As God’s new creation with a to be shared with all the world. Amen.

Preached March 31, 2018, at Grace & Glory Lutheran Church, Goshen, KY.
Easter Vigil
Readings: Genesis 1:1-2:4a; Genesis 7:1-5, 11-18; 8:6-18; 9:8-13; Exodus 14:10-31; 15:20-21; Daniel 3:1-29; Romans 6:3-11; John 20:1-18

Encountering the Messiah: Location

The Passover of the Jews was near, and Jesus went up to Jerusalem. In the temple he found people selling cattle, sheep, and doves, and the money changers seated at their tables. Making 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. He told those who were selling the doves, “Take these things out of here! Stop making my Father’s house a marketplace!” His disciples remembered that it was written, “Zeal for your house will consume me.” The Jews then said to him, “What sign can you show us for doing this?” Jesus answered them, “Destroy this temple, and in three days I will raise it up.” The Jews then said, “This temple has been under construction for forty-six years, and will you raise it up in three days?” But he was speaking of the temple of his body. After 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.

When he was in Jerusalem during the Passover festival, many believed in his name because they saw the signs that he was doing. But Jesus on his part would not entrust himself to them, because he knew all people and needed no one to testify about anyone; for he himself knew what was in everyone. John 2:13-25 (NRSV)

Grace and peace to you from our Lord and Savior, the Messiah, who is Christ, the Lord. Amen.

I don’t know if you’re like me, but, I’m one of those people who, as each year draws to a close, likes to read all the articles and listen to the reports that recap the last year’s events and tries to put them into a broader, longer-term perspective. I’m always trying to make sense of things that have happened that, in the larger scheme of politics or economics or from a societal standpoint have made an impact.
Sometimes, the events in those annual lists are things that have had just a small effect. At other times, they have made huge and lasting impacts on our world. 

What comes to mind for you, for example, if I mention the fall of 2008? For those of us who lived through it, we know the huge impact--the radical shift--that the one week in September made upon not just our economy, but the economy of the entire world.

Or think about how the world--and maybe even your life--has changed since the iPhone was created just over ten years ago. Before 2007, we didn’t know what an “app” was. We had no way of being constantly connected to the internet. We had likely never used a touch-screen before. Or known what “pinch-to-zoom” meant. Or taken a “selfie,” much less upload it to Facebook or Snapchat or Instagram. Or even known what “outsourcing” was or thought about where our devices came from or heard much about labor abuses in Chinese iPhone factories.  

It seems to me that what often appear at first to be fairly small, insignificant things or events end up having a huge impact. They can make a radical shift in the way our world operates or understands things. 

It is this is what is happening in our story today. A seemingly small incident in the temple that is really a radical shift. A radical shift that will completely change faith and our understanding of God. And a radical shift that not only changes Judaism and the temple, but still impacts us as believers today, some two millennia later. 

First of all, it is important to note that this story--the cleansing of the temple--is located in John in a very different spot in each of the other three gospels--Matthew, Mark, and Luke. Unlike in John, where it is located at the beginning of Jesus’ public ministry, in the other three--the synoptic Gospels, It is located at the end of Jesus’ ministry. In the synoptics, it is Jesus’ actions in the temple that are the catalyst for the anger of the Jewish leadership and their plot to kill him. In other words, this story in the synoptic Gospels is the beginning of the end of Jesus’ ministry and, ultimately, his life.

So, why does John put this story at the beginning of the Jesus’ public ministry? 

If you remember all of our stories from the Hebrew Scripture last year, perhaps you will recall that, for Israel, the temple in Jerusalem was central to their worship. It was in the temple, in the Holy of Holies, where God’s promised to remain. This is why the city of Jerusalem and, more specifically, the temple was central to all of Israel’s religious practice. This is why the Jewish people trekked days and miles to Jerusalem to worship for the major feasts. This is why Israel was so devastated that Jerusalem was captured and the temple destroyed by the Babylonians. This is also why it was so important to the Jewish people that the temple be rebuilt. Everything about their faith, their spiritual lives, and their religion was centered in the temple in Jerusalem.

Central to Israel’s worship practices at the temple was the sacrifice of animals. Everyone was required under liturgical law to make an animal sacrifice. If you were traveling hundreds of miles to worship, it was pretty impractical for you to bring along a bull, or a ram, or a dove. So, it was only practical that, when you got to Jerusalem, you needed to purchase an animal to sacrifice. So, eventually, a marketplace grew up around the temple, where merchants began to offer for the people’s convenience animals for sale for temple sacrifice.

In the same way, many people came from places where different currency was used. So, when they arrived in Jerusalem, they need to exchange their currency for money that would work in Jerusalem. Thus, the Jewish version of American Express arose, where people could do this.

So, the marketplaces that were happening around the temple were very practical and they were needed by the Israelites journeying to Jerusalem to worship. So, in John--please note that the perspective in John is different than in the other gospels--in John, when Jesus drives the merchants out of the temple, it is not necessarily because Jesus believes that the marketplace is evil. There is no mention by John that any financial abuses were happening at the temple. 

Instead, it seems that Jesus is doing this to send a message about who he is and what his role is in this fourth Gospel. Jesus is making a bold statement, not so much “against” anything, but rather “for” something. For his authority to represent and reveal who the God of the temple is, whom Jesus knows intimately as his Father. And as a result of his actions in the temple, Jesus is about to inaugurate a radical shift in the understanding of the Jewish people as to where God’s presence is located.

His actions lead to a confrontation. “Who are you?” the Jewish leaders ask. “What gives you the authority to do what you’ve done?” They challenge him.

Jesus responds with these words: “Destroy this temple and in three days I will raise it up.”

It is clear that the Jewish leadership don’t understand the double-meaning behind his words. In fact, it is not only the Jewish leadership that misunderstand, it is also Jesus’ disciples. Note the language in verse 22: “After 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.” They, themselves, didn’t fully understand until after the resurrection. And we, some 2,000 years later, get that Jesus was referring to his body as a temple and, particularly to his coming crucifixion and his resurrection.

But, what was the deeper point that Jesus was trying to make here? To get the Jewish leadership to understand?

What was the deeper point Jesus was trying to make here? 

His point was that God was no longer going to be restricted to the temple. In fact, it was that God was right there. Right in front of them. Jesus was telling them that God’s Spirit would no longer live in a building, but it would live in him and then, after he had ascended, it would be poured out into every human heart. No longer was God to be found only in the temple. God would be found in the heart of every human being.

This was radical for them. It is still a radical idea for us, too.

Can you see what God is giving? Do you see Jesus present right now in front of you? Here, in the Word made flesh? Here, in the bread and the wine? And in the heart of every single person you meet? Do you see God in front of you?

That is the message of Epiphany. God is right here in front of you. God is present in the flesh, incarnated for you and for me and for all people everywhere.

Come. And see.

Amen.

Preached January 21, 2018, at Grace & Glory Lutheran Church, Goshen, KY.
3rd Sunday after the Epiphany
Readings: Psalm 127:1-2; John 2:13-25