Encountering the Messiah: Overturning Tables

In today’s lesson, Jesus encounters the religious leaders in the temple. The temple had been built by Solomon. It served as the center of religious activity for God’s people, who would often travel hundreds of miles to offer sacrifices to show their love for God. It was an elaborate temple that took decades to build. Most importantly, it was central to the Jewish faith and was considered the place where God dwells.

Our reading today is from John, chapter 2.

It was nearly time for the Jewish Passover, and Jesus went up to Jerusalem. He found in the temple those who were selling cattle, sheep, and doves, as well as those involved in exchanging currency sitting there. He made a whip from ropes and chased them all out of the temple, including the cattle and the sheep. He scattered the coins and overturned the tables of those who exchanged currency. He said to the dove sellers, “Get these things out of here! Don’t make my Father’s house a place of business.” His disciples remembered that it is written, Passion for your house consumes me.

Then the Jewish leaders asked him, “By what authority are you doing these things? What miraculous sign will you show us?”

Jesus answered, “Destroy this temple and in three days I’ll raise it up.”

The Jewish leaders replied, “It took forty-six years to build this temple, and you will raise it up in three days?” But the temple Jesus was talking about was his body. After he was raised from the dead, his disciples remembered what he had said, and they believed the scripture and the word that Jesus had spoken.

While Jesus was in Jerusalem for the Passover Festival, many believed in his name because they saw the miraculous signs that he did. But Jesus didn’t trust himself to them because he knew all people. He didn’t need anyone to tell him about human nature, for he knew what human nature was. --John 2:13-25 (CEB)

I mentioned earlier that I have a new kitten in my apartment. Romeo. Have you ever experienced introducing a new animal into your home? A new cat? Or dog? Or some other animal? What was that experience like?

Romeo is joining Dakota, who is a 3-year old female that I’ve had for a little over 2 years. I picked Romeo up on Friday. So, as you can imagine, the past couple of days have been quite an experience. He is, as most kittens are, quite wild and fearless. Dakota tends to be very conservative, sometimes a little skittish. And sometimes a little grouchy, too. Romeo doesn’t fully understand this yet. He also doesn’t understand that Dakota has established patterns in her life here. Certain routines and elements of her day-to-day life that don’t change very much. She’s created a system here - a way of being here in my apartment that Romeo has now completely upset. And as he bumbles his way into what it means for him to live here, for him to create his own system, he is coming up smack dab against hers. And she’s not very happy about it. She’s grown quite comfortable with her way of being here. And so, with a few hisses and one or two snarls, she is making her unhappiness known about this new little creature who is turning her life upside down.

Now, maybe it’s a little sacrilegious to compare Jesus to a 6 month old kitten. But, in some respects, the experience of Romeo and Dakota is similar to what is happening in today’s lesson. This story is found in all four gospels. However, it’s only in John that it happens at the beginning of Jesus’ ministry. It’s centered, as I mentioned earlier, around the temple. At the time of the Passover. 

I’d like to take just a moment and imagine yourself in the midst of this scene. During Passover, thousands of God’s people would travel to Jerusalem. Estimates are that they population swelled from around 600,000 to more than 2 million people as they made pilgrimages to the Temple to worship - to make sacrifices. Picture yourself in the courtyard surrounding the buildings. It’s packed with people. You hear animal vendors calling out that they have unblemished animals for sale. This was a common and needed thing. Because so many people traveled from far away and, because of this, it was nearly impossible to bring an animal for sacrifice that would remain unblemished over such a long journey. Hear the bleating of the sheep. The mooing of the cattle. The cooing of the doves. All animals available for sacrifice. 

You can also hear the cries of the money changers. People need to exchange their coins for temple currency to purchase an unblemished animal. It’s a noisy chaotic scene in the temple courtyard. But, these money changers often didn’t just exchange currency. They also charged extra, making a nice little profit on the side. This made Jesus angry. He didn’t want the temple to be a place of profit, a place where people were treated unfairly. But a place of worship - where people could encounter God. So, he created a whip and drove the animals out of the courtyard. Then, he overturned the tables of the money changers. His was a righteous anger - a protest against unfair practices.

It wasn’t long before religious leaders came to challenge him. They had grown pretty accustomed to this way of being. Just like Dakota. When Jesus started to push against the systems they had created or allowed to exist, well, they were not happy. They challenged him. They questioned him - “Under whose authority are you doing this?” It’s here where the conversation takes an unexpected turn.

Jesus speaks in figurative language about the temple. The religious leaders take him literally. Destroy the temple, they ask? What took 46 years to build, you will destroy and rebuild in three days? They didn’t get it. Interestingly, neither did the disciples. I doubt that we would have, either. It was only after the fact, after Jesus’ actual death and resurrection, that they fully understood that the destruction Jesus was talking about here was his own body. On the cross. 

But, Jesus wasn’t only talking about his death. He was also talking about his resurrection. He was also talking about the death of these temple systems. About the complacency of the religious leaders. About the unjust practices of the temple. About all of the systems that had been built that had begun to exclude people. These things needed to die, too. Not permanently, but for God to bring about something new. That something new was about where God would dwell and how God would be made known. Not through any building or not even through religious practices. But through Jesus.

What needs to die in our world? What needs to die in our lives? In our churches? What is excluding people? What is no longer serving us well? What no longer offers life? We are in the midst of our own overturning of tables. Our world, our lives, our churches have been upended. We are all trying to make sense of things, much like Jesus’ disciples, living in a time of conflict and upheaval when events are happening that we did not expect or fully understand in this moment. 

The disciples, later on in their remembering, were able to make sense of things. This is how the Spirit works, for it was only after Jesus was gone that they would fully understand. When we are past this time, we, too, will look back retrospectively and begin to comprehend. To make sense of things. In the meantime, we move forward in faith - the faith that has been inworked in us by the Holy Spirit, sent to us through Christ Jesus. Who dwells within us. And who accompanies us on the way in all its twists and turns. 

May we, like the disciples, go forward in faith, trusting that after death comes resurrection. For Jesus. And for us. Amen.

Preached online January 23, 2022, with Grace & Glory, Prospect, and Third, Louisville.

3rd Sunday after Epiphany

Readings: John 2:13-25, Psalm 127:1-2

Called by God: Disrupting the Church

Now King Hiram of Tyre sent his servants to Solomon, when he heard that they had anointed him king in place of his father; for Hiram had always been a friend to David. Solomon sent word to Hiram, saying, “You know that my father David could not build a house for the name of the Lord his God because of the warfare with which his enemies surrounded him, until the Lord put them under the soles of his feet. But now the Lord my God has given me rest on every side; there is neither adversary nor misfortune. So I intend to build a house for the name of the Lord my God, as the Lord said to my father David, ‘Your son, whom I will set on your throne in your place, shall build the house for my name.’

Then Solomon assembled the elders of Israel and all the heads of the tribes, the leaders of the ancestral houses of the Israelites, before King Solomon in Jerusalem, to bring up the ark of the covenant of the Lord out of the city of David, which is Zion. All the people of Israel assembled to King Solomon at the festival in the month Ethanim, which is the seventh month. And all the elders of Israel came, and the priests carried the ark. So they brought up the ark of the Lord, the tent of meeting, and all the holy vessels that were in the tent; the priests and the Levites brought them up. King Solomon and all the congregation of Israel, who had assembled before him, were with him before the ark, sacrificing so many sheep and oxen that they could not be counted or numbered. Then the priests brought the ark of the covenant of the Lord to its place, in the inner sanctuary of the house, in the most holy place, underneath the wings of the cherubim. For the cherubim spread out their wings over the place of the ark, so that the cherubim made a covering above the ark and its poles. The poles were so long that the ends of the poles were seen from the holy place in front of the inner sanctuary; but they could not be seen from outside; they are there to this day. There was nothing in the ark except the two tablets of stone that Moses had placed there at Horeb, where the Lord made a covenant with the Israelites, when they came out of the land of Egypt. And when the priests came out of the holy place, a cloud filled the house of the Lord, so that the priests could not stand to minister because of the cloud; for the glory of the Lord filled the house of the Lord.

Then Solomon said,

    “The Lord has said that he would dwell in thick darkness.
    I have built you an exalted house,
        a place for you to dwell in forever.” --1 Kings 5:1-5, 8:1-13 (NRSV)

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

I should have known. I should have known when I received the syllabus for my class at Pittsburgh Seminary last week that it would be a week of disruption. After all, the class entitled Death and Resurrection: Risk as a Faithful Practice of the Church.

As I looked through the syllabus and the plan for each day of the week, my anxiety increased. Each day was in a different location. Each day provided a different and disruptive experience. Each day was an opportunity to see the Church at work in some of the most challenging parts of the city. Each day de-centered whiteness, featuring only the voices of people of color.

But, honestly, it was the plan for the very first day that scared me the most. That felt as though it would be the most disruptive. The plan was that our cohort would participate in a challenging ropes course, 30 feet above the ground.

Now, let’s be honest. I’m not in the best physical shape. And, for my entire life, balance has been an issue for me. Not to mention the vertigo and disequilibrium I experience on a near daily basis. So, the idea that I would be 30 feet above ground, trying to maneuver across high wires, swinging rope ladders, and other ridiculous challenges, terrified me.

So, after we arrived and were dressed in our harnesses, I felt the relief flowing through my body when another member of my cohort made the decision to move down to the lower and less challenging course only 10 feet above ground, which gave me permission to do the same, too.

You might be asking what any of this has anything to do with our text today. It’s not about rope courses. But, about buildings. A building, in fact. The temple. The first temple. Built by King Solomon.

This call of Solomon was not revealed to him by God, but to King David, his father. David was the one who wanted to build the temple. But, God had forbidden him from it. There was too much blood on his hands from all of the wars he had fought.

So, even though Solomon didn’t come to the monarchy through divine intervention, God clearly approved of him, particularly because in a dream he had asked God only for wisdom with which to reign. This pleased God so much that God gave him not only wisdom, but riches, too. Vast riches. Enough to build this grand and beautiful temple that represented the transcendence and immanence of Yahweh. And where Israel’s worship and the twelve tribes of Israel would be unified.

This temple held deep meaning for the Israelite community. It was built on Mount Moriah where, without God’s intervention, Abraham would have sacrificed Isaac. It was built on land where life prevailed. It’s magnificence matched the dedication ceremony - an eight-day celebration that marked its completion. A joyful occasion filled with glorious music, lots of instruments, and singers galore. An offering of 22,000 oxen and 120,000 sheep - so large that extra space was required. All Israel gathered together in community to celebrate this magnificent building, full and overflowing, our text tells us, with the glory of the Lord! 

Now, we know that, eventually, all of this would fall apart. In time, Israel would split into two nations, the result of years of oppression by Solomon and later kings. Eventually, both of these nations would be destroyed. The temple, too, would be destroyed. Because, in part, Israel would lose sight of who they had been called and shaped and formed to be - God’s beloved people who were blessed to be a blessing.

How different are we from Israel? How different are we from the church in Martin Luther’s day? How quick are we to abandon God to all that distracts us from whom we are called to be? Where we come to church, not to worship God or to be formed to live more fully into our call, but for our own comfort? For our needs, rather than for those in need? Are we living into who God has called us, like Israel, to be - a beloved people of God who are blessed to be a blessing? 

I failed to mention to you at the beginning of my sermon that this ropes course was in a former Catholic church. A church that, like so many other churches past and present, is now closed. Is this happening because the Church is failing to live out its call? (Church with a capital “C”.) Is the Church failing to live into the mission to which God has called it? Is it possible that this is a time of dismantling by God? A time that the church as we know it is being disrupted by the Holy Spirit, perhaps as in 1517? That the church is being disrupted so that God whose presence will not be contained by any building might push us outside our walls, so that we might meet Jesus in the margins of our world?

You and I have been graciously set free in Jesus to be the Church, just as Martin Luther was called in his time and Israel in theirs. May we know and trust as they did that, even in times of reformation, God’s presence will surround us, guiding our way, even when we cannot see what the future will bring. Amen.

Preached October 31, 2021, at Grace & Glory, Prospect, and Third, Louisville.

Day of Reformation

Readings: 1 Kings 5:1-5, 8:1-13; John 2:19-21

God Sightings - Part 3

Sometimes ordinary words just won’t do, will they? Ordinary words can’t capture immense fear, the beauty of a magnificent sunset, or the love for a child. Ordinary words could not capture the experience of Isaiah when he received his call to be a prophet for Yahweh.

The time is roughly 742 BC, the year that King Uzziah died. Uzziah had reigned in Judah, the southern kingdom, for more than 40 years. And by most standards, he had been quite successful. He had repaired the defenses of Jerusalem, reorganized the army, and secured many trade routes running through Judah. He was a strong king, but he died, as the book of Chronicles tells us, because he was punished by God for his proud power. It was in this same year, when the country was mourning his death and wondering what the future would bring, that Isaiah saw his vision. Found in the first part of today’s reading in Isaiah, chapter 6.

In the year of King Uzziah’s death, I saw the Lord sitting on a high and exalted throne, the edges of his robe filling the temple. Winged creatures were stationed around him. Each had six wings: with two they veiled their faces, with two their feet, and with two they flew about. They shouted to each other, saying:

“Holy, holy, holy is the Lord of heavenly forces!

All the earth is filled with God’s glory!”

The doorframe shook at the sound of their shouting, and the house was filled with smoke.

I said, “Mourn for me; I’m ruined! I’m a man with unclean lips, and I live among a people with unclean lips. Yet I’ve seen the king, the Lord of heavenly forces!”

Then one of the winged creatures flew to me, holding a glowing coal that he had taken from the altar with tongs. He touched my mouth and said, “See, this has touched your lips. Your guilt has departed, and your sin is removed.”

Then I heard the Lord’s voice saying, “Whom should I send, and who will go for us?”

I said, “Here I am; send me.” --Isaiah 6:1-8 (CEB)

The place is the temple. We aren’t surprised by this - we expect things like this to happen in the temple - this magnificent building. We might not expect, perhaps, to see visions of thrones or winged seraphs - those fiery beings who sing about the holiness and the glory of God. We might not expect to experience the shaking of the temple’s thresholds or smoke rising to the height of this extraordinary building. These are not ordinary words that describe ordinary things. But ordinary words often cannot be used to describe one’s encounter with God.

Isaiah is standing in the temple, when he sees the vision of Yahweh sitting on a throne. Yahweh is high and lift up. The seraphs are singing to each other words that we have often sung: “Holy, holy, holy is the Lord…” The building shakes. The smoke rises. Then, Isaiah speaks.

It’s not a response to God’s call that we hear, for God has not yet called Isaiah. Instead, his first words come in response to the remarkable vision he has experienced. So overwhelming that his first words are words of despair. “Mourn for me!” he says. In contrast to the greatness that he has witnessed, Isaiah feels small. In contrast to the glory and holiness he has experienced, he feels unworthy. That he has no place in the presence of One who is as awe-some as this.

This sense of fear and awe is not new to the Israelites. Throughout the Hebrew scriptures, they have asked the question, “Can one see Yahweh and live?” Yet, Isaiah seems less preoccupied with death here as he is with how he has lived life. He has unclean lips. He is part of a community with unclean lips.

It’s the seraph who first responds to Isaiah’s outburst. Immediately, it flies to Isaiah holding a live coal and touches his lips. Isaiah’s lips are not burned. Instead, his confession is acknowledged, his uncleanliness, his unworthiness is seared away. His guilt departs and his sin is blotted out. 

Perhaps you, too, have experienced something similar to Isaiah, when something you have done wrong, a mistake or a word you have said that has caused harm to someone, has been forgiven and reconciliation has happened. There is that life-giving moment when we exhale, recognizing that, despite our past, we can indeed begin anew.

It is then, after Isaiah has had this life-giving experience that he hears the voice of Yahweh. Yet, the words are not directed only to Isaiah - they seem to be directed to the community, to each and everyone who might we willing to hear them. “Whom shall I send, who will go for us?” Were there others there who might have come forth to answer? Perhaps. But Isaiah has been prepared and made ready for his mission, even as it has yet to be defined. 

Without even knowing what God is calling him to, Isaiah responds, “Hineni. Here I am. Send me!”

What is it that happens between these two outbursts of Isaiah? He first cries out, “Mourn for me!” Then, later his cry is “I’m here. Send me!” One can only wonder if what happens in between is this remarkable transformation that we feel when we have truly experienced grace. Amazing grace.

Now, as your pastor and as a storyteller, it would be my choice, my easy choice, to end the story here. It is important for us to hear the stories of these courageous people - these men and women in scripture and in the history of the church who have, in their own lives, said, “Hineni. Here I am.”

But to be true to the story of Isaiah, we must continue on in chapter 6, beginning with verse 9.

God said, “Go and say to this people:

Listen intently, but don’t understand;

    look carefully, but don’t comprehend.

Make the minds of this people dull.

    Make their ears deaf and their eyes blind,

    so they can’t see with their eyes

    or hear with their ears,

    or understand with their minds,

    and turn, and be healed.”

I said, “How long, Lord?”

And God said, “Until cities lie ruined with no one living in them, until there are houses without people and the land is left devastated.” The Lord will send the people far away, and the land will be completely abandoned. Even if one-tenth remain there, they will be burned again, like a terebinth or an oak, which when it is cut down leaves a stump. Its stump is a holy seed. --Isaiah 6:9-13 (CEB)

To be true to Isaiah’s story, we must hear the overwhelming challenge that God presents to him. We hear Isaiah’s sadness as he hears the words the Lord speaks. “Make the minds of this people dull. Make their ears deaf and their eyes blind, so they can’t see or hear or understand and turn and be healed.”

Isaiah has been called to deliver a word that will lead people not toward life, but toward death. The words given to him to speak to the community were harsh words, words of confrontation about the emptiness and desolation of a people and a land that Yahweh deeply loved. To be true to the story of Isaiah we cannot end with the words, “Hineni. Here I am, send me!” We must hear the last words of Isaiah as he stands there in his frailty, completely forgiven, when he asks, “How long, Lord? 

Recently, I listened to one of Leonard Cohen’s last interviews where he spoke about one of the last songs he wrote, entitled, “You Want It Darker.”  Throughout the chorus of this song, we hear the very word that Isaiah spoke in response to God’s call. Hineni. Hineni. Here I am. 

When asked about this song, Cohen commented that we are all motivated by deep impulses to serve, even though we may never fully identify that which we are being called to serve. That this is part of our nature to offer ourselves at the moment, at the critical moment, when the emergency becomes clear. 

Perhaps this is our hineni moment. Perhaps God is calling us into a mission for which we do not know the ending, just like Isaiah. Who didn’t know the ending either, but knew that this was the moment. The emergency to which he was being called. And who trusted that God would somehow bring new life from the stump. The holy seed mentioned in the very last verse of this chapter. The stump of Jesse. From which would come an ancestral branch. A King. Upon whom the spirit of the Lord would rest. And from whom would come life and light for all people. 

As we wait in this time of transition and upheaval. As we bear witness once again to hospitals overflowing and increasing numbers of infected and dying - when all we want to do is to throw off our masks, emerge from our cocoons and hug our friends and loved ones - is it possible that, like Isaiah’s, this is our hineni moment? When we are being called into selfless service in this time of emergency? Not knowing how long or what is to come, but trusting that out of the stump, out of the holy seed, will come new life and new purpose for us as the remnant people of God?

How will you respond?

Preached November 15, 2020, online at Grace & Glory Lutheran Church, Goshen, KY

24th Sunday after Pentecost

Readings: Isaiah 6, 1-13; Luke 5:8-10

God Works Through Us: No Joke!

Theophilus, the first scroll I wrote concerned everything Jesus did and taught from the beginning, right up to the day when he was taken up into heaven. Before he was taken up, working in the power of the Holy Spirit, Jesus instructed the apostles he had chosen. After his suffering, he showed them that he was alive with many convincing proofs. He appeared to them over a period of forty days, speaking to them about God’s kingdom. While they were eating together, he ordered them not to leave Jerusalem but to wait for what the Father had promised. He said, “This is what you heard from me: John baptized with water, but in only a few days you will be baptized with the Holy Spirit.”

As a result, those who had gathered together asked Jesus, “Lord, are you going to restore the kingdom to Israel now?”

Jesus replied, “It isn’t for you to know the times or seasons that the Father has set by his own authority. Rather, you will receive power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you, and you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem, in all Judea and Samaria, and to the end of the earth.”

After Jesus said these things, as they were watching, he was lifted up and a cloud took him out of their sight. While he was going away and as they were staring toward heaven, suddenly two men in white robes stood next to them. They said, “Galileans, why are you standing here, looking toward heaven? This Jesus, who was taken up from you into heaven, will come in the same way that you saw him go into heaven.”

Then they returned to Jerusalem from the Mount of Olives, which is near Jerusalem—a sabbath day’s journey away. When they entered the city, they went to the upstairs room where they were staying. Peter, John, James, and Andrew; Philip and Thomas; Bartholomew and Matthew; James, Alphaeus’ son; Simon the zealot; and Judas, James’ son— all were united in their devotion to prayer, along with some women, including Mary the mother of Jesus, and his brothers.

Peter and John were going up to the temple at three o’clock in the afternoon, the established prayer time. Meanwhile, a man crippled since birth was being carried in. Every day, people would place him at the temple gate known as the Beautiful Gate so he could ask for money from those entering the temple. When he saw Peter and John about to enter, he began to ask them for a gift. Peter and John stared at him. Peter said, “Look at us!” So the man gazed at them, expecting to receive something from them. Peter said, “I don’t have any money, but I will give you what I do have. In the name of Jesus Christ the Nazarene, rise up and walk!” Then he grasped the man’s right hand and raised him up. At once his feet and ankles became strong. Jumping up, he began to walk around. He entered the temple with them, walking, leaping, and praising God. All the people saw him walking and praising God. They recognized him as the same one who used to sit at the temple’s Beautiful Gate asking for money. They were filled with amazement and surprise at what had happened to him. --Acts 1:1-14; 3:1-10 (CEB)

Grace, mercy, and peace to you from God, our Father; Jesus, our risen Savior; and the Holy Spirit, our Advocate and Comforter. Amen.

A riddle. Why is an elephant big, gray and wrinkled? Because if he was small, white and round, he'd be an aspirin. (They’ll get better, I promise!)

In honor of the NFL draft this week, did you hear about the quarterback who wanted to call his wife? He couldn’t find the receiver.  (Okay, I promised they would get better, didn’t I?)

Last one. I promise. One Sunday morning, a mother went in to wake her son and tell him it was time to get ready for church, to which he replied, "I'm not going." "Why not?" she asked. "I'll give you two good reasons," he said. "One, they don't like me, and two, I don't like them." His mother replied, "I'll give YOU two good reasons why YOU SHOULD go to church. (1) You're 59 years old, and (2) you're the pastor!"

We love to tell jokes, don’t we? And, in these times, when things can feel very dark, jokes and laughter can help lighten our mood. We love to tell jokes. Perhaps, it's because there is often a nugget of truth in them. 

I was looking online for jokes about men looking up into heaven. Strangely, I couldn’t find any. But, it feels like this first part of today’s story is kind of a joke, isn’t it? A joke on the disciples? Perhaps, a rather cruel joke. After all this time they had spent with their teacher, the years of teaching and learning, the good experiences and the “not so good” experiences. Even with the shame of abandoning Jesus in those last moments. The grief at his death. Then, the fear and amazement of the women at the end of the Easter story in Mark - a cruel joke of an ending. Not really even an ending, but a void waiting to be filled in. It all must have felt like some cruel joke on the disciples.

But, the joke didn’t end there. As we move into a new book, the Acts of the Apostles, part two of Luke’s Gospel, we enter into a book that begins to fill in the void with details in a more satisfying way. The beginning opens with a brief summary of everything that has happened. Perhaps it wasn’t such a cruel joke, after all. Especially, as the disciples learned that Jesus had been resurrected. Had experienced their risen teacher in their midst. As Jesus had continued to teach them about the kingdom of God over those 40 days. Speaking to them about what was to come. And, how, even after all they had experienced and learned, they still didn’t quite get it. “Lord, are you going to restore the kingdom to Israel now?” they asked. Perhaps, the joke was on Jesus.

Quickly, he sets them straight. It’s not about the when. But about the how. The how of the kingdom. And, they learn, they will be the how. “You will be my witnesses.” In Jerusalem, among the Jews. In Judea, among a more mixed population. In Samaria, among their political and religious enemies. And to the end of the earth - the Roman empire - the known world at that time. They were to be the how.

I mentioned earlier that the joke, though, didn’t end there. Because just after they had learned all of this - that they were to be the “how” of God’s kingdom - Jesus simply disappears up into the heavens. Can’t you hear what the disciples are thinking as they stand and watch Jesus go?  “Oh, crap!” they think. “What the heck are we going to do now?” The joke is truly on them.

But, they wait. Together, men and women in that upper room. For days. They wait, following Jesus’ instruction to them. To wait until the out-pouring of the Holy Spirit. And, then, they begin. Probably, like us, never really knowing quite what to do.

But the opportunities begin to present themselves. During the course of the day as they go about doing their usual things, the opportunities arise. One day, as Peter and John are going to the temple for prayer as they always did, they come upon a man, crippled since birth. For whom, every day, his friends would engage in an act of mercy that helped him to survive. Carrying him to a place where there were people. Where he could beg the passersby to drop just a few coins in his cup. And, then, Peter and John see him. One has to wonder why they never noticed him before. But, our text says, they “stared” at him. Perhaps, for the first time, empowered by the Holy Spirit, they truly saw him. And, then, they engaged in an act of mercy that was way beyond the previous boundaries. Way beyond the imagination of the man’s friends and what they had done.  “Look at us!” Peter said to him. “Look at us! You are worthy to make eye contact with us. You, who have suffered for years, you deserve to be healed. And then, purely with the gift of healing given to him by the Holy Spirit and in the name of Jesus Christ, Peter heals him. No joke.

Sisters and brothers, you and I are called to do this same work. You and I, like Peter and John, have been baptized with water and the Holy Spirit, to be the “how” of the kingdom of God. To notice those in our hurting world and to engage in acts of mercy, whatever they may be. But, not to stop there. To invite them to look at you, so that you, too, like Peter and John, might witness to the “why.” Why you do these acts of mercy. And why is that? Because we have a God who loves us, who comes to be with us, to be like us, to experience the whole of the human experience, from the trivial irritations of family life to the isolation of pandemic life, from lack of money to the worst horrors of pain and humiliation, of defeat, of despair, and of death. And, then, to free us from it all: from sin, from the power of evil, and from death.

So that we, like the man in our story, who experienced healing after years of suffering, might jump up for joy. Walking, leaping, and praising God. And inviting others to experience that same joy. No joke.

Knock! Knock! Who’s There?
Howl. Howl who? Howl you know if you don’t open the door?

Go. Open the door and go. Be the “how” of the kingdom of God. Amen.

Preached online at Grace & Glory Lutheran Church, Goshen, KY, on April 26, 2020.
Easter 3
Readings: Acts 1:1-14, 3:1-10; Mark 6:7-13; Psalm 47

Promises Made, Promises Kept: Joy and Sorrow

In the first year of King Cyrus of Persia, in order that the word of the Lord by the mouth of Jeremiah might be accomplished, the Lord stirred up the spirit of King Cyrus of Persia so that he sent a herald throughout all his kingdom, and also in a written edict declared:

“Thus says King Cyrus of Persia: The Lord, the God of heaven, has given me all the kingdoms of the earth, and he has charged me to build him a house at Jerusalem in Judah. Any of those among you who are of his people—may their God be with them!—are now permitted to go up to Jerusalem in Judah, and rebuild the house of the Lord, the God of Israel—he is the God who is in Jerusalem; and let all survivors, in whatever place they reside, be assisted by the people of their place with silver and gold, with goods and with animals, besides freewill offerings for the house of God in Jerusalem.”

When the seventh month came, and the Israelites were in the towns, the people gathered together in Jerusalem. Then Jeshua son of Jozadak, with his fellow priests, and Zerubbabel son of Shealtiel with his kin set out to build the altar of the God of Israel, to offer burnt offerings on it, as prescribed in the law of Moses the man of God. They set up the altar on its foundation, because they were in dread of the neighboring peoples, and they offered burnt offerings upon it to the Lord, morning and evening. And they kept the festival of booths, as prescribed, and offered the daily burnt offerings by number according to the ordinance, as required for each day.

When the builders laid the foundation of the temple of the Lord, the priests in their vestments were stationed to praise the Lord with trumpets, and the Levites, the sons of Asaph, with cymbals, according to the directions of King David of Israel; and they sang responsively, praising and giving thanks to the Lord,

“For he is good,

for his steadfast love endures forever toward Israel.”

And all the people responded with a great shout when they praised the Lord, because the foundation of the house of the Lord was laid. But many of the priests and Levites and heads of families, old people who had seen the first house on its foundations, wept with a loud voice when they saw this house, though many shouted aloud for joy, so that the people could not distinguish the sound of the joyful shout from the sound of the people’s weeping, for the people shouted so loudly that the sound was heard far away.  --Ezra 1:1-4; 3:1-4, 10-13 (NRSV)

Grace, mercy, and peace to you, from God our Father, and from our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. Amen.

As most of you know, I spent Thanksgiving week with my son and daughter-in-law in St. Paul, Minnesota. Although I was with my family and we had a wonderful time together, I still wasn’t completely home. Home for me, even after all these years of being away - home for me is Timber Lake, South Dakota.

How many of you are going home this Christmas? What are some of the things that you look forward to when you go home? 

Today’s story is a story of going home. Since September, we’ve been following the stories of the people of Israel in the Hebrew scriptures. At times, these stories have been difficult. We heard of separation and division. Of battle and loss. Of good kings and evil leaders. And, then, last week, we heard of the story of the exile of God’s people. Carried away from home by their Babylonian captors. Scattered across the empire. All of God’s people taken away from home. From the place they love, the place promised to their enslaved ancestors, the place given to Israel after the exodus. The people of God exiled.

But, today’s story is one of going home. We heard this possibility promised last week in Isaiah - that God would raise up a Messiah to return Israel to their land out of exile. We know that, from the theological perspective of Israel, this Messiah was Cyrus the Great, emperor of Persia. We heard, in our opening verses, the official proclamation of Cyrus, issued throughout the empire to all of the diasporan Jews: Go home! Go back to the land of Judah, your home. To Jerusalem. And rebuild the house of God. 

But this wasn’t all that Cyrus commanded. He also commanded those living among the dispersed Jews to send them off with silver and gold, with goods and livestock, and with other gifts for God’s house in Jerusalem. Everything they would need to return home, to restore their lives, and to begin to rebuild the temple. Our reading tells us that the whole assembly together totaled 42,360, not including the 7,337 male and female servants, the 200 male and female singers, the 736 horses, the 245 mules, the 435 camels, and the 6,720 donkeys - a total of 57,373 men, women, and beasts. What a procession this must have been as Israel went home!

It was in the seventh month after their return, that all of them gathered in Jerusalem at the temple - or what was left of the temple - this place had been the center of their religious life, where they had experienced the presence of God. They gathered around the ruins of the temple as one. Then, they rebuilt the altar on the very spot where the original had been built. And then, as one people, they worshiped God. Home. Together. Giving thanks to God for their return.

The next step for them was to rebuild the temple. They hired masons and carpenters. They bartered with neighboring people to bring cedar wood by sea. All of this had been authorized by Cyrus - this promised Hebrew Messiah. In two years time, they were ready to build. Once again, all of Israel gathered in Jerusalem to mark this new beginning. When the builders laid the foundation stone of God’s new temple, our story tells us that the priests, clothed in their vestments and carrying trumpets, and the Levites with their cymbals - all of them rose up to praise the Lord, using the very words or words similar to the psalm we spoke earlier. “God is good. God’s graciousness for Israel lasts forever.”

Now, I don’t know if you’ve ever had this experience. But, I know that when I went home for the first time after having moved and lived away for a few years in a very different place, things were not the same. Even though they may have looked the same and the people were the same, for me, things felt different. Perhaps it was because I had changed. Perhaps it was because I had experienced so much in those few short years. Isn’t that often what it’s like? That as time passes and our life happens, we change. Maybe what we remember from the past isn’t quite what it was. Maybe we’ve learned to think in a different way as a result of new experiences. Maybe we’ve gained a new understanding about life. Maybe we’ve lost things or loved ones. Or shed old ideas. For whatever reason, when we’ve returned home, thinking we would get it back, that things would be the same, it’s not. So much so that coming home doesn’t feel like coming home.

This is what was happening to many of the Israelites in our story, particularly, those who were older. Who had experienced loss and sadness. Who had felt the pain of exile. Who had known the grandeur of the previous temple and could easily see that this new temple was not like the old. That it was much less. That is wasn’t the same, but that it was very different.

And so, as the others shout with joy and thanksgiving, they weep with sadness and other bittersweet emotion. The sounds of joy and sadness intermingled. So much so that they could not be distinguished from each other. Heard at a great distance. With shouts and weeping mixed all together.

For many of us, Advent can be a very similar time of mixed emotion. As we anticipate Christmas, it’s hard not to feel somewhat bittersweet. To feel as though joy and sorrow are wrapped together. Intermingled. Almost hard to separate. Because life now is not what it was. What or whom we’ve lost will not return. What we remember in our pasts are no longer how things are. 

Nevertheless, like Israel, we are invited into this place - into worship with all of our emotion, with our joy and laughter and with our sadness and tears. That we might experience the presence of God. That we might remember God’s faithfulness. And that we might trust that God is working to make all things new.

Because this was God’s promise for Israel. This is God’s promise for us. Amen.

Preached Sunday, December 15, 2019, at Grace & Glory Lutheran Church, Goshen, KY.
Advent 3
Readings: Ezra 1:1-4; 3:1-4, 10-13; Luke 2:25-32; Psalm 102:12-22.

God's Greatest Promise: A Different Kind of King

When they had come near Jerusalem and had reached Bethphage, at the Mount of Olives, Jesus sent two disciples, saying to them, “Go into the village ahead of you, and immediately you will find a donkey tied, and a colt with her; untie them and bring them to me. If anyone says anything to you, just say this, ‘The Lord needs them.’ And he will send them immediately.” This took place to fulfill what had been spoken through the prophet, saying,

“Tell the daughter of Zion,
Look, your king is coming to you,
    humble, and mounted on a donkey,
        and on a colt, the foal of a donkey.”

The disciples went and did as Jesus had directed them; they brought the donkey and the colt, and put their cloaks on them, and he sat on them. A very large crowd spread their cloaks on the road, and others cut branches from the trees and spread them on the road. The crowds that went ahead of him and that followed were shouting,

“Hosanna to the Son of David!
    Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord!
Hosanna in the highest heaven!”

When he entered Jerusalem, the whole city was in turmoil, asking, “Who is this?” The crowds were saying, “This is the prophet Jesus from Nazareth in Galilee.”

Then Jesus entered the temple and drove out all who were selling and buying in the temple, and he overturned the tables of the money changers and the seats of those who sold doves. He said to them, “It is written,

‘My house shall be called a house of prayer’;
    but you are making it a den of robbers.”

The blind and the lame came to him in the temple, and he cured them. But when the chief priests and the scribes saw the amazing things that he did, and heard the children crying out in the temple, “Hosanna to the Son of David,” they became angry and said to him, “Do you hear what these are saying?” Jesus said to them, “Yes; have you never read,

‘Out of the mouths of infants and nursing babies
    you have prepared praise for yourself’?”

He left them, went out of the city to Bethany, and spent the night there. Matthew 21:1-17 (NRSV)

Hosanna to the Son of David! Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord! Hosanna in the highest heaven! Amen.

In their book The Last Week, Marcus Borg and Dominic Crossan write that there were two processions that entered Jerusalem on the spring day in the year 30. It was the beginning of the week of Passover. The most sacred week of the Jewish year. In the centuries since that time, Christians have celebrated this day as Palm Sunday, the first day of Holy Week. The first day of the last week of Jesus’ life. The most sacred week of the Christian year.

One of those two processions was a peasant procession. From the east - from the Mount of Olives - came Jesus. No longer walking, but riding. [If you read the text carefully in Matthew, it sounds as if Jesus was some kind of trick rider. I have a cousin who, before she was married and had children, was a trick rider. The ultimate trick, one which she was never able to accomplish, was to be able to ride two horses at the same time. Standing, with one foot on each.] In Matthew, we read that Jesus rode two donkeys. At the same time. Now, this likely didn’t happen in quite this way. But, as we’ve seen before, it is important for Matthew to help his readers understand that this Jesus was the complete fulfillment of the promised Messiah in Hebrew scripture. Particularly in the prophet Zechariah. “Look, your king is coming to you, humble, and mounted on a donkey, and on a colt, the foal of a donkey.”

This Jesus was from the peasant village of Nazareth. His message was about the kingdom of God. And his followers came from the peasant class. Throughout the gospel, Jesus has proclaimed the in-breaking reign of heaven. It has now fully arrived on that day in Jerusalem.

On the opposite side of the city, from the west, a second procession - an imperial procession - entered Jerusalem. It is led by Pontius Pilate, the Roman governor, at the head of a column of imperial cavalry and soldiers. They were not riding donkeys, but horses. In ancient times, horses were instruments of war. They were not used for agriculture or transportation. But to wage war. Or, in Pilate’s case, as a visible display of his power. Or, more specifically, a display of Roman power. 

Imperial processions like this were well-known in Palestine in the first century. It was the standard practice for the Roman governor to be in Jerusalem for major Jewish festivals. They didn’t do this out of reverence for the religious devotion of their Jewish subjects. But to be in the city in case there was trouble. In case there was an uprising. A rebellion.  And at Passover - the festival that celebrated the liberation of the Jews from another earlier empire - there often was trouble. 

Pilate’s procession displayed not only imperial power, but also Roman imperial theology. The Romans believed that the emperor was not simply the ruler of Rome, but the Son of God. So, Pilate’s procession was not only a rival social order, it was also a rival belief system. 

Can you already sense the coming conflict? 

The rest of the Zechariah passage describes what kind of king the Messiah - the other Son of God - would be. “He will cut off the chariot from Ephraim and the war-horse from Jerusalem; and a battle bow shall be cut off, and he shall command peace to the nations.” This coming king, riding a donkey, will banish war from the land. This coming king, riding a donkey, will be a king of peace. The first part of today’s story is this symbolic act. Jesus. Son of God. Coming to Jerusalem as a direct challenge to Rome.

The confrontation between these two kingdoms, between these two Sons of God, will continue through the last week of Jesus’ life. As we know, it will end with the execution of Jesus by the powers who ruled his world. Holy Week is the story of this confrontation. But, before we go further, we must first set the stage. And so, we come to Act 2 of our story today. And to Jesus’ second symbolic act on that first Palm Sunday.

We know that Jerusalem was the heart of Israel’s religion. It was also to be the ruling seat of the Messiah. The new King David would rule a restored kingdom from Jerusalem. So, Jerusalem was connected to Israel’s hope. Central to that hope was the temple. 

When it was first built by King Solomon, it became the sacred center of the Jewish world. It was called the “navel of the earth,” finding its source in God. Here, and only here, was God’s dwelling place on earth. To be in the temple was to be in God’s presence.

The temple was was also the source of God’s forgiveness. It was the only place of sacrifice. And for Israel, sacrifice was the means of forgiveness. It was only through sacrifice in the temple that certain sins could be forgiven and certain kinds of impurities could be cleansed. The temple was the place of mediation between God and God’s people. So, to stand in the temple, purified and forgiven, was to stand fully in the presence of God. So, it was the center of Israel’s religion and the destination of pilgrimage. Three times a year, the Jews would come from distant lands. We call these Jews the diaspora. After the exile and after Israel had been restored to their homeland, these Jews had chosen to remain in their countries of exile. Yet, they would still travel to Jerusalem. Three times a year. To go to the temple to offer sacrifice and receive forgiveness. 

Jerusalem, although the center of Jewish hope, was also a place with very negative associations. Beginning with King Solomon, it had become the center of a system of domination. This phrase, “domination system” is used by Borg and Crossan to describe the most common way of organizing a society in ancient and premodern times. It was a system that allowed the political and economic domination of the many by a few. A system that allowed those with wealth and power to use it to exploit others and to accumulate more wealth and power. And to use religion to justify it.

Under Solomon, power and wealth were increasingly concentrated in Jerusalem. This system of domination had continued in Jerusalem even under Roman rule. The high priest and the authorities were, in effect, the rulers of the Jewish people, although they owed allegiance to their Roman overlords. They were wealthy, from the local aristocracy. And, as long as they were loyal to Rome and maintained order, they were given a relatively free hand in ruling their people. So, by Jesus’ time, the temple was not only the center of sacrifice and hope for the Jewish people, but it had also become the center of the system of domination.

This is the Jerusalem that Jesus entered on that first Palm Sunday. His message was deeply critical of the temple and its role in the domination system. From his early ministry and that of John the Baptist, both had pronounced forgiveness  apart from temple sacrifice. They had pronounced this forgiveness primarily to peasants. The hungry. The thirsty. The stranger. The naked. The sick. The imprisoned. Those not in power. 

So, when Jesus, in his second symbolic act that day, entered the temple and overturned the tables, he was not protesting the commerce happening in the temple. This commerce was necessary, because people traveling from far away needed animals for sacrifice. They needed to exchange their foreign coins into silver shekels to pay the temple tax. Jesus was not protesting this, but against the system of domination that was being legitimized in the temple by using God’s name. A system that was radically different from what the present and coming kingdom of God - the dream of God - was to be. A kingdom where Jesus, as the true Son of God, would be its king. Where Jesus, as the true Son of Man, would be a different kind of king. A humble king. A healing king.

Two processions entered Jerusalem on that Palm Sunday. The same question, the same alternative, faces those of us who would be faithful to Jesus today, just as it did the people of Jesus’ day. Which procession are we in? We, who have been given this gift of life in Christ in baptism - which procession are we in? We, who called to live lives transformed - lives worthy of that gracious gift of life that Jesus has given each of us. Which procession are we in? Are we choosing to follow the king of dominations systems, systems that continue in our world today? Or are we choosing to following the king called Jesus? The king who sides with the poor. With the weak. With those rejected by the world. Those with no power. 

We - who know the rest of the story - are we choosing to follow the king called Jesus? This Jesus, who is a different kind of king? 

This, for us, is the question of Palm Sunday and of the week that is about to unfold. 

Which procession will you be in? 

Preached April 14, 2019, at Grace & Glory Lutheran Church, Goshen, KY.
Palm Sunday
Readings: Matthew 21:1-17, Psalm 118:25-29

Cultivating Calm and Stillness (Letting Go of Anxiety as a Lifestyle)

Living in the Most High’s shelter,
    camping in the Almighty’s shade,
I say to the Lord, “You are my refuge, my stronghold!
    You are my God—the one I trust!”

God will save you from the hunter’s trap
    and from deadly sickness.
God will protect you with his pinions;
    you’ll find refuge under his wings.
    His faithfulness is a protective shield.
Don’t be afraid of terrors at night,
    arrows that fly in daylight,
    or sickness that prowls in the dark,
    destruction that ravages at noontime.
Even if one thousand people fall dead next to you,
    ten thousand right beside you—
    it won’t happen to you.
Just look with your eyes,
    and you will see the wicked punished.
Because you’ve made the Lord my refuge,
    the Most High, your place of residence—
        no evil will happen to you;
        no disease will come close to your tent.
Because he will order his messengers to help you,
    to protect you wherever you go.
They will carry you with their own hands
    so you don’t bruise your foot on a stone.
You’ll march on top of lions and vipers;
    you’ll trample young lions and serpents underfoot.

God says, “Because you are devoted to me,
    I’ll rescue you.
    I’ll protect you because you know my name.
Whenever you cry out to me, I’ll answer.
    I’ll be with you in troubling times.
    I’ll save you and glorify you.
    I’ll fill you full with old age.
    I’ll show you my salvation.” Psalm 91 (CEB)

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

Last Wednesday, I introduced to you the theme of our conversations on this midweek Lenten evenings - that of “Cultivating and Letting Go.” We’re using a different psalm each week, corresponding to the psalm used each week in the Lenten devotionals we’re using this year. We’re also using elements of Brene Brown’s book, The Gifts of Imperfection.

Tonight, our focus is on letting go of anxiety and cultivating calm and stillness in our lives.

In my late 20’s, I separated from the man who is now my former husband. What we did not understand at the time and fully appreciate was how expensive it was to go through a separation or a divorce. Instead of having two incomes to cover the costs of one household, this change resulted in having to cover the costs of two households.  As a result, it seemed that there was never enough money. For me, this led to many sleepless nights. And, then, to nights when I would wake up sweating, unable to breathe and feeling pain in my chest. I was experiencing what I now know to be anxiety attacks.

Because of my own shame related to our separation and lack of money, I never reached out to anyone for any kind of help or assistance. Instead I kept it all inside and simply lived with it.

I mentioned last week that the focus of Dr. Brene Brown’s research is shame. I also mentioned the theological connection between shame and original sin. That shame is at the heart of our sin. It is deep-seated. It is at the root of many of our individual and societal challenges. It is an ugly part of us. In Jungian psychology, shame is referred to as the “swampland of the soul.”

Now, anxiety is a normal thing for us. We can reasonably be anxious over things in our lives. Yet, when anxiety grows to the point that it begins to take over our life - well, this is a problem. It becomes a psychological disorder. The technical name for this is Generalized Anxiety Disorder, or GAD. The definition of this disorder is “feelings that extend beyond logical worry in a way that is unreasonable, unwarranted, or uncontrollable.”

In the United States, we are head and shoulders above the rest of the world with diagnosed cases of Generalized Anxiety Disorder.

This disorder often arises from a sense that we fail to meet expectations, from feelings that we aren’t good enough. From shame.

And, so, like my response, the typical reaction is to isolate ourselves. To keep our anxiety to ourselves. To not talk about it. If we are fortunate, we have someone who notices. And asks.

Tonight, our reading is from Psalm 91. Notice, beginning with the first verse, that this is the tale of someone who is on a journey. Someone who is “living in God’s shelter.” Someone who is “camping in God’s shade.” It is a picture of a God who is a refuge.

In Hebrew culture, this word “refuge” was understood to be the temple. That space set apart from the world with special protective rights, which included asylum and an obligation to keep peace within its very walls. The temple was a place of sanctuary. And, yet, even though it was a place of asylum, peace, and sanctuary, it was also a place of life. A place central to the community for its festivals. Festivals that included meals, music, and dance. But, mostly, the temple was the place where God promised to be present.

In Psalm 91, this refuge, this temple, this place of sanctuary is not a physical place. But, this refuge is God. Our very God is this place of sanctuary and asylum.

Notice, also, in the psalm, the protective imagery that is used to describe God. 

A walled fortress. Walled cities and forts on the heights provided “secure” refuge for people who lived in surrounding and unprotected villages and farmsteads.

Then, there is the image of God’s wings and the refuge that is found there. Reminding us of the feminine imagery of a mother hen protecting her young chicks. This same imagery is intended to remind us of the protective area in the temple - in the secure area underneath the outstretched wings of the cherubim that protected the holy of holies in that most sacred part of the temple.

Then, notice, God image as protective shield. Particularly, God’s faithful protection. That arrows shot by our enemies will simply bounce off and not strike us.

Then, finally, there is this image of God’s protection that exists day and night, 24/7. All the time.

Given all of these images, how might we respond when we begin to feel anxiety, whether it is normal and reasonable, or abnormal and unreasonable?

According to Brene Brown, the first step is to notice it. To first become aware of when we are feeling it.

And, then, to breathe. At creation, God breathed God’s very breath into us. God’s ruach. God’s very Spirit.

The next step is to practice. To practice seeking out calm and stillness. We’re reminded of the passage from Psalm 46: “Be still and know that I am God.” And from Romans 8: “For I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor rulers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.”

Then, lastly, to reach out. Whether it is to a trusted family member, a friend, a counselor, a pastor. We should not be ashamed to reach out and ask for help and support.

Finally, if you noticed the closing of tonight's psalm, it ends with finding “salvation.” The same word that we heard last week in Psalm 51. A word that means healing, wholeness, shalom. Or, according to Brene Brown, wholeheartedness.

This week, as I was reading in our Lenten devotional, I came across these words:

“As we read this psalm during the season of Lent, it serves as a reminder that with God at our side, our trials and tribulations won’t overcome us. More than that, as we look to Jesus and his journey to the cross, we are reminded again of how seriously God took his word to be with us in our suffering. Taking on our sin, our sorrows, and our suffering, Jesus bore them on the cross and laid the foundation for their ultimate defeat. In Christ, God truly has rescued us and shown us his salvation.”

May we continue to cultivate and let go. Amen.

Preached March 13, 2019, at Grace & Glory Lutheran Church, Goshen, KY.
Midweek Lenten Worship 1.
Reading: Psalm 91.

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