I told this story to most of you, but I will retell it for the sake of the few who may not have heard it.
Last time I was late to church, because of an emergency. I was dog sitting at my sister’s house last Saturday night. On Sunday morning, I awoke, fed the dogs, and then went to the bathroom. That turned out to be a big mistake. I left the dogs unattended, and they took full advantage of the opportunity. They ransacked the house, in an attempt to find whatever they could to eat.
I emerged from the bathroom to find trash littered across the floor in various areas of the house. This is not unusual for them. I’ve known them to overturn the waste baskets before. Most of the time this is merely a nuisance. But it’s a problem when they find something to eat that may be harmful to them.
This was a distinct possibility last Sunday morning. Among the things scattered on the floor I noticed a few items from my bathroom kit. Concerned, I went to examine the kit to make sure that a vial of prescription drugs was still there. It wasn’t. I looked everywhere for it. Coming up empty, I jumped to the conclusion that one of the dogs ingested it—the same one that ate a plastic bottle of fish oil pills three or four years before. I called animal toxicology to find out what I should do. The woman advised me to bring the dogs to the emergency vet clinic so that they could check the dogs vitals and order a radiograph if needed. So that’s what I did.
Thankfully, it was a false alarm. The dogs were fine. When I returned to the house, I found the vial of prescription drugs in an unexpected place. I put the dogs in their kennels and then drove to church.
I assumed full responsibility for the incident. If I hadn’t left the dogs unattended, I could have avoided the waste of time and money. But as I reflected on it, I came to the conclusion that I could have also made sure that nothing in the house was within reach of the dogs. In fact, if I had picked up the house, if I had made sure that all loose objects were on shelves or in cupboards or otherwise where they belonged, I could have averted potential disaster. In the end, the incident underscored for me the importance of keeping a clean house.
This is a concern that Jesus shares. Only in this case we are not referring to my sister’s house, but to his Father’s house, that is, to say the Jerusalem temple. There are people who have gone up to it to worship God.
For it is the time of the Passover. This is one of three annual pilgrimage festivals for the Jewish people. That means that, regardless of where they lived, they had to go up to Jerusalem, the Holy City, to worship at the temple.
A modern day parallel is the Hajj in Islam, the annual pilgrimage to Mecca, which every able-bodied adult Muslim is expected to make once in his lifetime.
But Jesus is not a Muslim; he is a Jew. And so, he too has gone up to Jerusalem to celebrate the Passover. But when he arrives at the temple, he does not like what he sees. There are people there selling cattle, sheep and doves. And there are money changers seated at their tables.
At first glance, we may ask: “What’s wrong with this picture? What in the world are they doing there? After all, this is a place of worship, not a 4 h fair!”
But the vendors and the moneychangers in the courts of the temple are there to serve an important purpose. The people celebrate the Passover by bringing a lamb to temple for sacrifice. If they do not have one, they have to go to the vendor to buy one. And if they do not have Jewish shekels to pay for it, they have to go to the moneychangers to exchange their own currency for shekels.
And so, the vendors and the moneychangers are there for a legitimate reason. But if they serve a purpose, then why is Jesus is indignant? Indeed, he is more than indignant. He is evidently so upset by what he sees that he makes a whip out of cords, overturns the tables, and drives them out.
The answer is that the vendors and moneychangers defrauded the people. If, for example, a family brought their own lamb to temple for sacrifice, they’d have to present it first to the temple authorities for inspection.
Recall that the Passover ritual requires that the animal be a year-old lamb or goat, without blemish or defect. After inspecting it, the temple authorities would reject the animal, and direct the family to one of the vendors, from whom they could buy one suitable for sacrifice. Colluding together, the inspectors and the vendors had a good hustle going.
Now if the family could not afford one of the birds or animals, the temple authorities would turn them away. But if the family happened to have money, only not in Jewish shekels, then they could go to the moneychangers. But there is a barrier here too. For the moneychanger set a high exchange rate to maximize profits.
The moneychanger is the ancient equivalent of the attendant behind the currency exchange window at the airport. Both gouge the customer because they realize the customer needs the money now.
Jesus sees and knows what is going on here. “Take these things out of here! Stop making my Father’s house a marketplace!” (John 2:16).
They’ve turned the temple into a marketplace. They have failed to acknowledge its primary purpose: the worship of God. Jesus’ opposition here is consistent with his teaching in the Gospels of Matthew and Luke: “You cannot serve both God and money” (Matt. 6:24; Luke 16:13).
How can God be worshipped and loved with all our heart, mind, soul and strength in the face of the desire and power of money (David F. Ford)?
How can we find a place in our hearts for God’s Law, which for God’s covenant people marks out the way by which we show love to God and God’s people?
The commandments, “You shall not commit adultery,” “You shall not murder,” “You shall not steal,” “You shall not covet,” and whatever other command there may be, are summed up in this one command: “Love your neighbor as yourself” (Romans 13:9).
The Reformers brought this out in their teaching that implied in the negative prohibition is the positive command.
For example, to them, the eighth commandment “you shall not steal” means not only that I should not defraud my neighbor, as in fact the vendors and the money changers in the temple were doing, but that I should do whatever lies in my power to promote his welfare.
Let me refer you in this connection to the Heidelberg Catechism. After explaining what God forbids in the eighth commandment (110), the Catechism adds a question and answer that explains what God requires in this commandment: “That I do whatever can for my neighbor’s good, that I treat others as I would like them to treat me, and that I work faithfully, so that I may share with those in need” (111).
Accumulating wealth for oneself is a form of theft, as thoughtful Christians down through the centuries have observed: the more you have, the more you are occupied, the less you give. The rich are never satisfied. They always need more.
Mother Theresa insightfully remarked that the poverty of soul that afflicts the rich is harder to eradicate than the material poverty that afflicts the poor.
The temple is the place of God’s presence. God’s desire is to reside with his people. “Make for me a sanctuary and I will dwell among you” (Ex. 25:8), God tells Israel through Moses.
The temple is a place where the people can meet with God, worship God, and offer their prayers to God. But they have turned his Father’s house into a marketplace.
This is what upsets Jesus. More than anyone else, he wants people to be in God’s presence. He wants his Father to be our Father.
Is this not what is reflected in the words to Mary Magdalene at the end of this Gospel? After his resurrection, he appears to her and says: “Go tell my followers: I am ascending to my Father and your Father, to my God and your God” (John 20:17).
Now we understand his reaction. “Take these things out of here! Stop making my Father’s house into a marketplace!” The disciples recalled a line from Psalm 69 and later applied it to Jesus: “Zeal for your house will consume me!”
The temple authorities may object: the temple needs funds for upkeep. The place of worship ought to receive care and honor. We maintain it with reverence and adorn it with beauty.
That may be true. But the problem with relying on a market economy here to deliver religious services is expressed in an old joke: “Sure, like the Ritz Hotel, open to rich and poor alike.” Although all may be allowed to buy what they need, not everyone can afford to do so.
Jesus cannot tolerate that; he is troubled by what he sees. And so, he springs into action. The ensuing commotion startles us. It does not seem to be in keeping with Jesus’ character. Rather, it seems to be an outburst of uncontrolled, even violent anger.
But the reaction of the temple authorities suggests otherwise.
They ask him: “What sign can you show us for doing this?” (John 2:18).
This reaction makes no sense unless we understand the religious world of the ancient Jewish people. They are asking Jesus whether he is a prophet.
In the Old Testament, prophets often relied on what Bible students call “sign-acts” to communicate a difficult message that the people might otherwise ignore.
Author Gary V. Smith tells us that the sign-act aims to teach the central point of the prophet’s message in an attention-getting, interesting, or even shocking way.
If Jesus is a prophet, then what he has done in making a whip of cords, overturning the tables and driving out the animals for sacrifice is a sign-act.
No doubt the temple authorities could recall the prophecy in Zechariah 14:21: “No longer shall there be a trader in the house of the Lord on that day.”
Jesus is fulfilling this prophecy. But the temple authorities want authentication. What sign then can he give them that he is a prophet?
The reply Jesus gives is remarkable. “Destroy this temple, and I will raise it in again in three days.” Of course, as is the pattern in John’s Gospel, the opponents of Jesus misunderstand him.
He speaks to them of spiritual realities, to which they are blind. They understand only material realities. They do not make the connection. They think that he is referring to the literal Jerusalem temple.
Brief history lesson. Herod the Great began the reconstruction of the temple in 19 BC. Ongoing construction continued through Jesus’ day, even up to the time it was demolished in the sack of Jerusalem by the Romans in 70 AD.
No prophet, regardless of how great he is, could do in three days what it has taken 46 years to accomplish.
But Jesus is referring to his own body. He is the temple. That is to say, he is the living dwelling place of God on earth. He is the place where God resides. This is the truth that the church celebrates during Christmastide.
The Word of God became flesh and made his dwelling among us (John 1:14). Bible students point out that the word translated “made his dwelling” is related to the word “tabernacle.” The tabernacle was the portable temple that accompanied Israel during her wilderness sojourn. It was the predecessor to the Jerusalem temple.
Jesus is the temple. He is the very presence of God with his people. The presence and glory of God is inseparable from the body and person of Jesus, the Son of God, destroyed but raised up in three days (David F. Ford). Through the resurrected and glorified Jesus, we can go to meet with God, worship God, and offer our prayers to God.
Let us not lose sight of this. Let us not take this for granted. In the ancient world, temples were houses for the gods, served by an elite class of priests, not where people gathered.
The holy of holies in the Jerusalem temple was a place for the presence of God, but entered only once a year by the high priest.
But by the death of Jesus, we may enter into the most holy place, by a new and living way opened up to us through the veil, which is his body (Heb. 10:20).
In our Gospel lesson today, there is a strong concentration on the body of Jesus. This will recur later in John’s Gospel, only this time not in the image of a dwelling place, but as food.
In John 6, Jesus feeds the five thousand, and then gives a lengthy discourse about its meaning. We cannot go into that profound teaching here, but we can recall his words: “I am the living bread that came down from heaven. Whoever eats this bread will live forever. This bread is my flesh, which I will give for the life of the world” (John 6:51).
He is our living bread. Let us then approach the Lord’s Table this morning with grateful hearts, fully expectant of meeting him there, assured that in him, in his flesh and blood, is full, abundant, and eternal life. Amen.