First United Methodist Church, Birmingham, Michigan
Scripture: Matthew 21:12-17
Note: This message was delivered at First Baptist Church, Birmingham as part of a community-wide Good Friday service. The three-hour format was divided into six segments, with each segment’s message highlighting a different event that took place during Holy Week. The assignment for the 12:30 segment was to address Matthew’s description of the “cleansing of the Temple.”
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Interesting, isn’t it, that we’re still talking about the Temple after all these years? I mean, it hasn’t stood since 70 AD. But as a memory for some….and as a dream for others….it looms larger in its non-existence than it ever did when it was here.
I have been there, you know. Four times now. And I could take you, anytime you’d like to go. Not that we’d see all that much….of the original, that is. That’s because there’s but one wall left….a part of a wall, really. Called the Western Wall or the Wailing Wall, it is an incredibly holy sight (even for a non-Jew). I have never failed to approach it without going all the way to the stones themselves, pressing my forehead against the rock in a posture of prayer. And I’ve yet to go to the Wall without taking a few slips of paper from people back in the States…. prayer requests was what they were….to slip between the cracks until God read them or the rains destroyed them.
If you’re a man, you can’t go to the Wall bareheaded. Even Christian men need yarmulkes. Which few have. So they supply you with a cardboard version, free of charge. Which never fits very well. And which never stays on your head very long. But every one of my male friends who has been to the Wall has a picture of himself in a yarmulke, somewhere in a drawer or a scrapbook. I could show you mine. But I trust you won’t ask.
The first time I went to the Wall, I was privileged to witness a bar mitzvah. For there can be no more holy experience for a young Israeli Jew than to be bar mitzvahed in the old city, in the shadow of the Western Wall. There we were, under sunny skies. The young boy was reading from the scroll. The rabbis were standing around him. His father was standing beside him. His brothers and his uncles were standing behind him. There were cousins there….neighbors there….friends of the family there….and me, I was there too. The only thing that distinguished us was our gender. Every last one of us was male. As I remember it, the boy had a mother….some sisters….several aunts….and a passel of girl cousins. But they weren’t as close as I was. They were in the general vicinity. But they were standing beyond a fence. Where they had access to the Wall….on their side. But only on their side. Ancient traditions run deep. Along with ancient divisions.
Why am I telling you this? Because you need to know something about divisions in the Temple, then as well as now. When we talk about Jesus chasing the money changers from the Temple, we not only need to know what he did, but where he did it. And why. Which means that a little stage-setting would seem to be in order.
The Temple, you see, was not one space, but many. Picture it as a series of ascending courtyards. Your first entry was into the outer courtyard….the place that was called the Court of the Gentiles. You could be admitted there….because anybody could be admitted there. But if you were a Gentile….which virtually all of you are….you could not go beyond there. For it was “death” for a Gentile to penetrate further.
Next came the Court of the Women, entered by the arch that they called the Beautiful Gate. Any Israelite could go there. This was followed by the Court of the Israelites, entered by Nicanor’s Gate (a gate of Corinthian bronze which required 20 men to open and shut it). It was in this court that the people assembled for Temple services. Lastly, came the Court of the Priests, into which only the priests might enter. There could be found the great altar of the burnt-offering….the lesser altar of the incense-offering….the seven-branched lamp stand….and the table of the shew bread. It was at the back of the Court of the Priests that the Holy of Holies stood, accessible only to the High Priest, and only once a year. To enter the Holy of Holies was to approach the very throne of God. Which is why legend has it that more than one rabbi attached a rope to his ankle before passing through the veil, thus ensuring that (should he be struck dead by the power of God while praying) his colleagues would be able to pull him out without endangering themselves.
So when Jesus went into the Temple for purposes of “cleansing,” where did he go? Not to the Holy of Holies. Not to the Court of the Priests. Not to the Court of the Israelites. Not even to the Court of the Women. Jesus went into the outer court…the Court of the Gentiles.
And when did he go there? Well, it depends on which Gospel you read. John would have you believe that he went following his temptation in the wilderness….as the very first act of his public ministry. John was probably wrong. But John had good literary reasons for playing fast and loose with history. In today’s texts….Matthew’s text….it is suggested that Jesus entered the Court of the Gentiles on Sunday….Palm Sunday….presumably later in the afternoon. In Mark’s text, Jesus enters on Monday, presumably in the morning (having paid a brief visit….a scouting visit?….the previous afternoon). For reasons too complex to go into here, I like Mark’s chronology. Therefore, let’s assume it’s Monday.
But I’m not quite arranging the stage. First, you need to know something about money changers. They were extremely visible. For they were extremely necessary. Every Jew, you see, had to pay a temple tax of a half sheckel. That tax had to be paid near to the Passover time. About a month before Passover, booths were set up in various towns and villages and the tax could be paid there. But after a certain date, it could only be paid in the Temple. What’s more, it had to be paid in a certain currency. It could not be paid in ingot silver, but only in stamped silver. It could not be paid in coins of inferior alloy or coins which had been clipped. It could be paid in Galilean half sheckels, but Tyrian currency was preferred.
The function of the money changers was to change unsuitable currency into proper currency. For this, a small fee was charged. Which was certainly understandable. And for pilgrims…. flocking to Jerusalem from distant places….exceedingly helpful. The surplus charge was called the Qolbin. Call it “profit.” Or call it a “handling fee.” At issue was not the existence of the handling fee…. but the amount. Quite frankly, some of the handlers took advantage of the time.…the place….the season….and the opportunity….to gouge the masses. All of you have heard the phrase “What the traffic will bear.” And in the Court of the Gentiles at Passover time, the traffic bore plenty.
The selling of doves was another matter. For most visits to the Temple, some kind of offering wasexpected. Doves, for example, were necessary when a woman came for purification after childbirth (which is why Mary and Joseph brought a couple of young pigeons with the baby Jesus, “at the time of her purification”). It was easy enough to buy animals for sacrifice outside the Temple. But any animal offered for sacrifice must be without blemish. Believe it or not, there were official animal inspectors at the courtyard gates. And it was not uncommon for inspectors to be “on the take”….so that they would reject animals purchased elsewhere, thereby forcing persons to the stalls within the Temple itself.
No great harm would have been done if the prices inside the Temple matched the prices outside the Temple. But the price could double, once you passed through the Temple gates. Once more, the opportunity for “rip offs” was magnified. And the fact that abuses had gone on for years did not excuse them in anybody’s eyes….especially Jesus’.
Which is why he reacted as he did. He was not against the practice of money changing or animal selling, per se. What he was against was the greed that gouged those who were simply trying to comply with Temple expectations, the better to perform proper worship. As to what kind of ruckus was caused, one can only imagine. I’ve seen a lot of paintings which suggest swirls of commotion….birds flying everywhere….coins rolling everywhere….people running everywhere ….along with much noise and public consternation. As to whether he upset the entire multitude, who can say? But he upset the people of vested interest….who, as it turned out, were people who were willing to make their displeasure known.
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What does all this mean? I’m not entirely sure. But let me offer a trio of suggestions.
First, it depicts Jesus in an exceedingly angry state. Which is strange to see. But which is also good to see. Because I am no stranger to anger. And neither are you. Which means that Jesus is like me. Occasionally. Sort of.
The only difference being that the things that irritate Jesus are not necessarily the things that irritate me. Which may mean that, as irritations go, I ought to elevate mine. Because I certainly wouldn’t want Jesus to lower his.
Second, there is this sharply drawn line between “a house of prayer and a den of robbers.” Which is sometimes overplayed by purists. I mean, we’re never going to separate commerce from the church completely. On any given Sunday morning at First Methodist, you can leave the sanctuary and buy and sell anything in Fellowship Hall. We sell tickets to dinners. We sell silent auction items for the Endowment Fund. We sell baked goods at the Hunger Table. We sell garden produce for urban missions. We sell sponsorships for walkers and fasters. We sell bricks for the courtyard and flowers for the memorial garden. We sell citrus fruit for choir robes. And, at certain seasons of the year, we let the Boy Scouts sell Christmas wreaths and the Girl Scouts sell cookies. When you walk into Fellowship Hall, it can feel like an old-world bazaar. And every few weeks, someone is sure to tell me that I should “do something about the money changers in the Temple.”
But I never have. I have yet to crack the whip. And I have yet to overturn my first table. Not because I have sold out to the market place. But because I understand the text. Some things exist for the legitimate convenience of the parishioners. Which was true in Jesus’ day. And which is true in ours.
But, as a pastor, I must always keep my eye out for excesses….for manipulations….and for corruptions of a good thing. If somebody comes to church to see God….and whatever they experience distorts God….where is there left to go? I do not know the location of the line that separates the holy from the common. But I hope I can still recognize the line that separates the holy from the profane. On the day when such is no longer the case, I trust that someone will tell me that it’s time to sit down (until I regain my sight).
Finally, I would raise this little matter of four words that Matthew drops from the text. When you read the story in Mark’s gospel, the sentence reads: “My house shall be called a house of prayer for all the nations.” For some reason, Matthew has dropped “for all the nations.” But it is ironic, is it not, that all of this exploitation was taking place in the only section of the Temple where non-Jews could worship. Meaning that the people who were most inconvenienced by the presence of the predators were those who were furthest from the faith and relative novices to its practices.
In our day….and in this community….I keep hearing that certain churches are promoting themselves as being “user friendly” to those who have been “turned off” by other congregations ….other denominations….other preachers. And I find myself pondering: “How did this come to be? Why did these people get so angry? Did I do that? Or did I stand by while others did that?”
I don’t know if I did or not. But something happened in that “outer courtyard” of my church…. when they came and did not stay….sought and did not find….hurt and were not helped….or worshiped and went away disenchanted. Not one iota of which was intentional. Surely, nothing I did turned them off. But do I know that for sure?
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Finally, I keep coming back to this thing about “robbers” in the Lord’s house. Which surely there were….surely there are….and surely I have been. But the only saving grace for that horrible thought, is that it was but a matter of days before another robber hung on a cross….adjacent to Jesus….and received the promise of Paradise.
