Righteous Anger

It suddenly occurred to me that the blog I thought I wrote leading into Palm Sunday never was. So I’m going to try for two this week as so much is happening.

Diana Butler Bass in her e-newsletter, The Cottage, had a guest writer for March 3rd, Rev. Jason Micheli. He greatly added to my understanding of what I chose to preach about yesterday - Jesus’ cleansing of the temple and the cursed fig tree from Mark 11. After years of focus on Jesus’ triumphal entry into Jerusalem, I wanted to focus on what comes right after.

Micheli talks about why Jesus was so angry that He went back to the temple to flip the money changers’ tables and the merchants’ animal cages. He gives a brief history of the temple - of how Solomon had it built but then the Babylonians invaded and torched it, and how even after a long time of exile, it took quite some time before God’s people had it rebuilt. When it finally was, the Ark of the Covenant, which held the very presence of God, was missing. The temple was vandalized, desecrated and even used as a fort after that. Ironically, it was King Herod who had it renovated and restored. Despite its shiny new image, the Ark was still missing. God’s Spirit wasn’t contained within it.

Micheli says that Jesus’ anger wasn’t about animals being sold, as that was commanded in scripture back to Moses’ time. It wasn’t even probably about moneychangers, as Roman coins at the time read “Caesar Augustus, Son of God” and were blasphemous. Temple coins, similar to tokens, made it possible to buy what was needed to perform necessary sacrifices. No, he posits that Jesus’ anger came from the temple seemingly disregarding that God’s holy presence wasn’t even there. The host and most holy God wasn’t on site. No wonder Jesus said that He Himself was the temple, the One holding God’s presence, because He was.

Add to this that at least some moneychangers were known to be corrupt and to charge exorbitant exchange rates, that some merchants wildly over-priced the animals for sale, and that non-Jews who could only gain access to the outer court to worship God were crowded out by their tables, and you have a recipe for some pretty highly stoked anger. What should have been a holy place had been turned into a market for profit and Jesus’ rage spilled over.

What about the fig tree? These trees were a symbol in the Old Testament of God’s people, Israel, and were plentiful in the region. Their leaves grow year round. The tree Jesus was so mad about had no fruit, not even the buds of promise that should have been there. The leaves were all for show with nothing produced to benefit or feed anyone. It was a rich metaphor for the hollowness and window dressing of the temple. It’s Peter who notices when they later return to Bethany that the tree has shriveled up and died within a day of Jesus’ harsh rebuke leveled at it.

As I spent time reflecting on this I thought about arguments about whether or not to hold Christmas bazaars and where in the building and when they could be, and about other money-making ventures happening in church halls. These often stem back to this passage and how we interpret Jesus’ fiery words about God’s house being a den for thieves.

Greater than buying and selling, I believe, is the question of whether our places of worship are bearing fruit. Are we welcoming of God’s presence? Can people sense that the Spirit is alive in us, in God’s holy place, or is it just dead and lifeless in our churches? Is our faith and worship alive, demonstrating the Spirit breathing through our sanctuaries and hearts, or is it dull and routine, trying to prop itself up without the Life of Jesus’ coursing through us?

It may not be terribly apparent to outsiders which of these we are. We can look all dressed up and say the right words and do the right actions at the right time, but is God ‘s presence tangible to us and those who join us? Are we expectant that we will be fed, and being fed by God are we ready to go and feed others? Micheli talks about how John baptized in the Jordan River because it symbolized the vibrant freedom of the people entering the Promised Land rather than the stale and spiritually empty temple, beautiful as it may have looked.

As we move further into Holy Week, may we take the time to consider how much we welcome God’s presence into our hearts, into our worship spaces, into our words and ministry. Friday and Saturday we will be reminded of what it’s like when all hope, and God’s bodily presence among us, is seemingly gone. It’s a place we must go to fully appreciate what comes next. And as we emerge from this sacred week, may our fruit be plentiful and may all be fed because of Him.