15^th MARCH 2009

10.00 am

Readings:

Exodus 20 : 1-17

1 Corinthians : 1:18-25

John 2 : 13-22

Visitors to Jerusalem today, whether they are tourists or pilgrims, are usually recommended to take a look at the ‘Wailing Wall’. It is all that is left of the old temple after the Romans destroyed it, and it is where devout Jews from all over the world come to pray. The temple was very important for Jews, which is why it figures prominently in the gospels.  It was the place, we are told, where Jesus was brought as a very young child, where he got ‘lost’ on a later visit with his family, and where in his adult ministry he carried out so much of his teaching – as in today’s gospel.  Let’s take a closer look at it, with all its confrontation and tough talking. 

Jesus cleanses the temple – driving out those who are defiling it with their cheap commerce and wrong religious attitudes.  And then he makes the claim that if the temple were destroyed, it would be raised up again after three days – referring to his own body, his own resurrection, something clearly incomprehensible to his audience. It’s rich stuff, but the question has to be asked: what are we to make of it?  We may be visitors, tourists, or bystanders with Jesus. But we are still involved, even if we harbour doubts about the truth of it all, especially when circumstances make our faith a difficult journey to take.  To put it in our own terms: why should we bother with all this talk about temples? 

The answer lies in how we use this passage.  For me, Jesus is not just  speaking a long time ago about an old building that was soon to be demolished.  He is speaking today – and to all of us - about ourselves and our relationship with him.  And he is doing this in two ways.  First of all, he is challenging our attitudes and the way that we put our faith into practice.  The temples that we create for ourselves, whether they are the temples of our daily routines, our work, our leisure, or the way we live our faith  - they all need to stand the test of his scrutiny.  Temples are not cosy shelters where we can escape from the world and even from ourselves.  They are sacred but open spaces, specially constructed to provide easy access and space for many other people, other experiences, fresh challenges, as well.  If you went to the old Jewish temple, you would find all sorts of things going on, because it was a very public place.  It was not somewhere for indulging private and personal religious choices: part of it was even intended for outsiders – Gentiles – and that says something to us about keeping Christianity open to outsiders and enquirers.  The watchful eye that Jesus provides is about preventing us from thinking that all is easy and well, when in fact it is not.  He is looking at habits, ways of life – to ensure that they are truly creative, and that they are operating on healthy and righteous lines. And not just for us as individuals, but as a society, credit crunches and all.  There are times in my life when I have thought to myself, ‘oh, my goodness, things really are going smoothly at the moment’, and then it all suddenly changes, and becomes much less easy. But all this can provide opportunities for us to grow and develop, and become spiritually stronger. 

Secondly, Jesus likens himself to the temple which will be destroyed. But unlike that stone construction, his will be rebuilt, not in the way that St. Mary’s, Rowner was restored after the fire.  The rebuilding, the reconstruction, to which he refers is about letting go of the outward and the familiar, in order to let God and God alone transform our doubts, our hopes, our fears, our loves, even our resentments.  This is the resurrection faith that we shall be proclaiming in a few weeks’ time.  And it is why the gospels in the Sundays of Lent have a habit of pointing us towards Easter, preparing us for the festival in a thoughtful and reflective way, without getting too miserable or gloomy.

Cleansing and rebuilding can be powerful processes, but ones that we can easily pass by.  An age that understandably guards the autonomy of everyone runs the risk of assuming that everybody is right, everybody should get what they want.  That is a subtle way of avoiding the need to be cleansed and to be rebuilt.  For we are not self-sufficient, we are not independent of one another, we are not here to go it alone. Recent developments in Northern Ireland demonstrate what can happen when estranged people start treating one another as if they really need them.  As many of us discover in our faith journey, being cleansed and being rebuilt, having one’s old certainties shaken and finding a deeper faith, can be profoundly enriching experiences. 

St. John places this scene not later on, after Jesus’ entry into Jerusalem on that donkey, as a prelude to his betrayal and passion.  Instead, he places it here, right near the start of his ministry. The signals of what Jesus is really about – searching and transforming us – are in this way registered loud and clear from the beginning, so that we have an early taste of what runs right through this gospel, right through our pilgrimage with him.  It is indeed a wonderful picture of what it means to know his presence, wherever we are, and whatever our circumstances.

 +Kenneth     Portsmouth