The Journey

March 15, 2009

Third Sunday in Lent
Exodus 20:1-17; 1 Corinthians 1:18-25; John 2:13-22
The Reverend Cathy S. Gilliard

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Let us remember the journey that we are on – these days of Lent in which we pull away from the crowded corridors of life and walk with Jesus down the long dark road toward Jerusalem. We live in glad hope that he also walks along with us along our own dark road.

We remember the journey we are on – these days that call our attention to inward reflection and invite us into honest dialogue about who we really are and the things that concern us most.

We remember the journey we are on – that we are headed somewhere. We are not there yet. But we are on our way. Jesus has secured our destination and by his own life has shown us the way.

Who is this Jesus who calls us to follow him along the road? The road less traveled. The road so often overgrown with weeds and thistles and thorns. Like so many other pilgrims, we move from place to place, sometimes clear about the direction we are going and at other times groping around in the dark with no moral compass at all.

Who is this Jesus who inspires hope in us because we have already seen the first rays of light? We believe that this world not only passes but has to pass in order to let the new world be born. Though there is often fear and pain there is also light breaking through.

Who is this Jesus who welcomed all sorts of people and invited them to come and follow? Who said: do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who treat you badly... hang out with those you would prefer to ignore. Listen to the cries of those who persecute you. Recognize them as brothers and sisters.

The Jesus who said the greatest among you must be your servant: "Anyone who raises himself up will be humbled, and anyone who humbles himself will be raised up. Anyone who loses his life for my sake and for the sake of the gospel will save it. The one who makes himself as a little child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven. If anyone wants to be a follower of mine, let him renounce himself and take up his cross and follow me. How happy are the poor in spirit...those who mourn...those who hunger...those who are persecuted." [1]

Who wants to hear such things? Who wants to hear that the first will be last when so much of our striving is to be first? Who wants to hear that those who are poor, who mourn, who are hungry, and thirsty, and persecuted are called happy, when we are self-content, well-fed, and admired? Who wants to hear that we have to love our enemies and pray for those who mistreat us? Extend a hand to those who are so radically different that we are and whose views are so unlike our own?

Who is this Jesus we find in our gospel this morning that Javier just read? So often we see and hear about the gentle loving Jesus. Healing and caring and welcoming the least of people. But the one represented in our lesson this morning is angry. Jesus comes with whips of cords and drives people out of the temple – people and sheep and cattle. He pours out the coins of the money-changers and overturns their tables. He tells those who were selling the doves to get out! Stop making his Father's house a marketplace. I wonder about this Jesus.

As you know, several of us recently spent ten days in the Holy Land. It was important from the beginning to set the experience up as pilgrimage rather than a sight-seeing tour, or a trip-of-a-lifetime, or a long awaited vacation, though all of these may have been true in part for some. The notion of pilgrimage ushers in a whole new set of expectations that cannot be planned or foreseen. It invites participants to be open to the interruptions and unexpected ways that God appears. To sights and sounds and aromas we might otherwise miss. I like the notion of pilgrimage because it invites us to be present to all the encounters of our lives – the good, the bad, and the ugly; and to sit with them long enough and be patient with ourselves and with God and with one another long enough for transformation to occur.

What we discovered was that when we made ourselves available, God surprised us in the oddest of places, like the Spirit wind on top of Mt. Nebo while looking out over the land God Promised Moses and the children of Israel; or the cool waters as we dipped our feet into the Dead Sea, or our last communion by the Sea of Galilee. Our shared conversations and simply being present to one another in sacred space. It was often in these places that God seemed most present, and it was there that worshipped God.

You will be hearing more about it at Coffee Hour and see the photographs we took along the way.

There is a lot of controversy about a lot of places in that land. We would visit one site and the guide would say "maybe this is the spot where Jesus was born; maybe this where he was buried; maybe this is where Jesus crossed the sea of Galilee." But these Temple steps, said our guide, were the actual steps where Jesus stood and taught. And it was a daunting and humbling experience just to stand there and as we turned the corner we saw the marketplace. Standing before us was this massive structure built by King Herod that took 46 years to build and tens of thousands of laborers. In Jesus' day alone, thousands upon thousands of people had stood on that place. And since that time, many more thousands of people had also stood on that space. And if I tried to listen carefully, I imagined hearing the crowd and see the money changers. And the buying and selling and doing what they do. And animals being traded and the haggling that is their every day business. It was not odd at all that animals would be slaughtered for sacrifice. It would be impractical for travelers to bring animals with them and they might not always have unblemished animals – a clear requirement of the law. So the sale of animals was necessary for the Temple sacrificial system to be maintained. And the Tempe tax was also required and not in Roman but in Tyrian coinage.

I tried to listen for the chatter and imagine the women and children and those who had traveled for many a mile as we had just to be there. I tried to imagine what Jesus saw and the depth of his passion on that particular day and why was that day so different from all the other days. I wondered what was going on for him. Matthew, Mark, and Luke place this Temple story near the end of Jesus' ministry after he had ridden into Jerusalem on a donkey for the final time. But John puts it right up front. You can see that there is a crisis here? What is at stake? The Temple was a symbol of national identity. Any talk of it's destruction or replacement had both political and religious implications. Jesus of Nazareth was a troublemaker. He was trying to overthrow the government. And there would be no turning back from this point. This would be one of the last straws. From this point on, his arrest, trial, and crucifixion were imminent. And Jesus understood it too: "Destroy this Temple and in three days I will build it up again."

For John, Jesus' actions in the temple pointed to the heart of who Jesus was and what he had come to do. It is really a question about where God dwells - in a house made of blocks and stone or someplace else. To follow Jesus is to search for a new order, without divisions between people; for a new structure that allows every person to shake hands with every other person, and a new life in which there will be lasting unity and peace.

I think Jesus was saying that everything had to go. The Temple. Animal sacrifices. Obedience to law. All the different walls and barriers and guarded doors that let some in but keep others out. It all has to go. In its place something new is to be built. A temple "not made with hands – a new people built on his own death and resurrection.”

Jesus was the new temple. In him God dwells. And this is the thing: God dwells in us too! We are God's Temple now. God dwells in you. And me. We are the sign of God's presence in the world. We are the place where God's glory is seen and God's mercy is known. It is our words and deeds that tell the story of the cross of Jesus Christ, which in turn becomes the building blocks that God uses to rebuild this world of ours.

During these days of Lent, we embrace God's vision to Love him above all things and our neighbors as our selves. We also embrace our Lenten theme: Now is the time. Come home. Claim God's love. Serve the world.

Part of our Lenten disciple is to read Find Your Way Home by Becca Steven and the women of Magdalene. What could be more foolish than a group of women - former drug addicts, prostitutes, prisoners who have been discarded by all embracing God's vision and being God's dwelling place? And yet, they've got it!

Hear their words: "Stand on new ground and believe you are not lost. What we are feeling and experiencing is not a sense of being lost but the wonder of discovering something new. This is sacred ground. We walk it alone, following the advice of others who have walked before us. The prayer is to walk this ground in faith and trust that the Spirit leads us toward God.

My past is a land of unwanted, unloved, hard-knocking living. My past tastes like a rotten apple that I have to eat because that is all there is, but in this community I am standing on new ground with God. I am standing on new ground that will withstand the earthquake that I may cause. I am standing on new ground that is waiting for me to plant my seeds and to spread seedlings around so others can blossom, too. I am standing on new ground because today I choose to walk a different direction. I am not lost. I have found my path.

The old familiar ground was to argue with people I love. I hate fighting, and I hate being so mad; but it takes a long time to learn how to treat people you love differently. It takes a while to find out what lies below the anger is fear. I really don't think I raise my voice much anymore, but I still have to stop and check myself before I say something that can hurt someone just because I am feeling hurt.

Stepping onto new ground required courage and hope and a belief that things could get better. I didn't feel lost as I took those brave steps. There was companionship and love, though I couldn't immediately accept them. God gently took me by the hand as I may my way. I stood on new ground and yet felt that I had found my way home." [2]

__________________
[1] Henri J. M. Nouwen, Show Me The Way, p. 58.
[2] Becca Stevens, Find Your Way Home: Words from the Street, Wisdom from the Heart, p. 47-49.

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