Through Stained Glass: Monday of Holy Week

Christ Cleansing the Temple by Bernardino May, Italian circa 1655

             The story of Jesus in the temple tossing tables is in all the Gospels.

Though John’s version differs slightly than the Synoptics. Mainly the location—Jesus in the temple happens at the end of the Synoptic, a kind of “the last straw” for Jesus. In John, it is placed right at the beginning—setting the scene for the pushback Jesus would experience from the get-go.

Today we read from Mark’s Gospel. Jesus rides into Jerusalem triumphantly only to end up in the temple. He isn’t pleased with what is happening. Without getting into too much detail, the holy place had become a place of business transactions—in a way that left the poor poorer and the privileged untouched. Again, without wading too far into the weeds, the surcharge for exchanging money into currency suitable for temple offerings, the poor could not afford to encounter God in this sacred place.

I like as one poet from Iona put it:

Then he,

            the holiest one among us,

            went through that bizarre bazaar

            like a bull in a china shop.

            So the doves got liberated

            and the pigeon-sellers got angry.

            And the police went crazy

            and the poor people clapped like mad,

            because he was making a sign,

            was embodying a truth,

            that God was for everybody,

            not just for those who could afford him.

            He turned the tables on Monday ...

            The day that religion got in the way.

The pandemic that is COVID-19 has moved us out of our common worship spaces and into new worship spaces. What we are learning is what the early church learned—that we don’t need a building to worship God. This statement is not meant to condemn our Jewish siblings or to make a dig at our modern-day building campaigns. After all, when John wrote his Gospel, the temple was already destroyed, and both Judaism and Christianity found ways to continue their faithful journeys in serving God. Nor am I saying this pandemic is God’s way of tossing the chancel tables as a way to wake us up. Any theology that suggests this is hurtful and unfaithful to the Gospel.

What I am holding up is how we are rediscovering how God isn’t confined to the things we build—whether they are buildings or the theologies we cling tightly to. God is more than this—God is in Christ and by the Spirit in us. We are the bearers of God’s image and likeness—breathing the Spirit that hovered over the waters of creation in the beginning.

On the Monday of Holy Week, when Jesus tossed temple because of the injustices he saw happening to the poor, might we consider what tables in our lives need overturning. What barriers stand in our way from seeing the presence of God in those we meet: neighbor, stranger, sibling, or enemy? How might we emerge on the other side of this pandemic with a fresh perspective regarding what really matters as a church? What area in your life—work, relationships, self-care—might need a different perspective—a glance from the gracious, tender eyes of Christ?

The temple tables were tossed. Jesus is moving us away from the darkness and into the liberating light of God’s love. Will we follow Christ as he moves closer to the cross?