Was that an anti-vendor temper tantrum?

http://usccb.org/bible/readings/110916.cfm

Ezekiel 47:1-2, 8-9, 12
1 Corinthians 3:9-11, 16-17
John 2:13-22

What great disgrace lies at the root of Jesus driving out the animals that folks were selling in the temple sanctuary? What irked him so much that he systematically chased away the money changers by scattering their coins all over the ground? Was his anger slung at the very idea of commerce? 

That can’t be it. He’d spent years already directing both the purchase and distribution of goods for his followers. Not every meal they’d eaten came from a cornfield or bottomless baskets of bread and fish. Nor was he particularly ticked off at the inhuman treatment of animals, or the caging of doves, all substitutionary sacrifices that Jews were required to offer for their sins. His own parents, Mary and Joseph, followed that tradition. Something else was going on.

We would really like to know the point of this exchange between Jesus and the retail sales folks working one of the largest gathering spots in Jerusalem during the biggest festival week of the Jewish year. Why do we want to know? Because in every facet of our 21st Century lives, opportunistic sales folks thrive by parking themselves wherever we gather. They’re as much a part of our culture as were commercial sales in Jesus’ time.

Though we do not plan our day timed to arrive just in time to hit every street vendor, or drive eagerly to the intersections where the beggars stand with cardboard signs, we can’t reasonably conjure up a justified anger at their effort to secure our money. At most we are emotionally jared, though more likely just annoyed or anxious. We react by looking away, shrugging penniless pockets, or holding out quarters or a dollar or two to satisfy both the vendor/beggar, and ourselves. We exhibit empathy at our best times, and avoidance at our worst.

What we do not do is kick over the flower bucket of a curb barker on Valentine’s Day. We do not slap the spinning sign out of the hand of the dancing man wearing ear buds. The most egregious behavior I’ve seen is when a driver clicked on his car wipers with fluid spraying everywhere to let the man who wanted to clean his windshield know that a squeegee service was not required. 

Are we really upset about bothersome sales people? Maybe in automobile showrooms and at time-share dinner pitches. That’s mostly our fault for going where we should expect to be harassed.

We’re extremely curious about the theology of the second person of the Trinity apparently losing his temper. Some of us lose our tempers more than we should. But Jesus? Did that really happen? 

The first clue that Jesus didn’t just lose his temper and go football coach wacko is that he took the time to make a handmade whip. Rope in Jesus’ time wasn’t just lying around. He first had to perform a Boy Scout merit badge task of winding stuff together into cords, and then tying some knots spaced out for dramatic effect. An irate, livid person wouldn’t be able to do this without taking a lots of deep breaths and shaking off the fury in their trembling hands.

Secondly, Jesus didn’t go after the merchants themselves. Without a trained sheepdog or an experienced horse, Jesus efficiently flung his whip among a crowd of oxen and sheep — many who must’ve been tied off and fenced in — enough to create an odd-looking mixed species stampede that successfully escaped the grasp and control of highly skilled shepherds and ranchers. A seething, wild-eyed carpenter in a robe must have more than just his wits about him to pull that off.

Next, he managed to top over a cordon of tables, undeniably protected by financial folks with years of paranoia built into watchful eyes and closely held containers. Henchmen must’ve been at the ready, and fully prepared to handle one man. Especially since he’d already crisscrossed the sanctuary, loosening animals from their owners. The element of surprise was no longer an advantage. Jesus’ ninja-like steps and well-timed table tipping must’ve been both bizarre and brilliant.

Finally, rather than crush the bird-cages that held the doves for the poor’s version of a holy sacrifice, he somehow communicated to a host of aviary minded folks that they’d best grab their flocks and leave quietly. Since they were probably the largest group of vendors, filling the needed purchases of poor folks who couldn’t afford a lamb, much less an ox, couldn’t they have simply set down their cages and accosted Jesus? 

Surely, all of these folks had run into crazy people before. Jesus’ demeanor must have been a Liam Neeson level forcefulness, a full-on stare that met the toxic equivalent of a cloudless tear gas attack from an army of riot police.

He did not just lose his temper. 

That still leaves us with the initial question. What’s the big issue over the sales of stuff that temple visitors needed to have? Animals were needed for sacrifice. Rare Jewish drachmas were required as the coinage that men must use to pay their temple tax. The animal and coin vendors were providing a service. 

We get that. We’re accustomed to hot dog stands everywhere, t-shirt racks at festivals, stacks of used books on the street, sunglasses displayed on revolving racks in malls, along with photo booths, cheap cell phones in Kiosks, scarves hanging from tent frames, and tables strewn with jewelry. We can imagine the scene that Jesus walked into.

Yeah, these in-your-face sales pitches are annoying. But, where so many people walk and gather, we expect the opportunistic entrepreneur to set up shop. That’s where the crowds roam. It’s just commerce. Retail sales for needy consumers. Water bottles and ice cream in the parks come in handy. Folks hawking floppy hats, flags and peanuts on the way to sport venues add to the adventure. Buying expensive popcorn, candy and soda in the foyer of a movie theatre has become a comically expensive, yet satisfying tradition. 

Pens of oxen and sheep, and boxed up birds in the sanctuary of the Church? Granted, that doesn’t seem so common. We don’t run into that, well, ever. After 2,000 years, though, the merchandising of a temple, and turning the spiritual center of the presence of God into a marketplace is really just part of the deal of society.

While the inference of temple and merchandising may appear to correlate with our church buildings today, that would not be a proper analogy. Yes, we have ATM machines in the alcoves, entry ways and lobbies of our churches. Fundraisers show up every week in our bulletins, handed out at church. The bulletins are stacked with advertisers promoting their business or service. None of these things, though, are analogous to what upset Jesus in the Jewish Temple in Jerusalem.

We bring our envelopes to church and pay our tithes. It’s our obligation as members of the Christian community that serves the needy world. Some priests and ministers improperly twist this obligation into a “pay to play” ritual. Maybe this is the heinous activity that raised Jesus scorn? I don’t think so, as unseemly as the tithe may have been morphed.

The answer lies in the singular comment of Jesus, “Take these out of here, and stop making my Father’s house a marketplace.” When Jesus was a boy he sat in this same temple and told his parents that, “I must be in my Father’s house.” Some translators phrase it as, “I must be doing my Father’s business.” Either way, the temple as the house of the Father is reserved for the business of the Father, and not the business of humans. 

The important distinction is that Jesus does not condemn marketplace activity. He simply defines it as something we humans do as a function of our commerce, and distinguishes our commercial practices and functions as both foreign and inappropriate to what God desires for us in our relationship to him.

Not lost to us in the subsequent banter between Jesus and the confused Jews is Jesus’ direct association with the temple presence of God with the temple presence of himself, God de facto living in a body. We are told the disciples made the connection later, after Jesus raised up his body.

What may be lost for us is the temple presence of the Holy Spirit, the third person of the Holy Trinity, which now resides in our “temple” bodies. These are bodies that we have allowed to be living temples of the Spirit. We welcome also the body and blood of Jesus when we partake in the Eucharist. In addition, we subjugate our will to the will of the Father. We are both cosmic and real vessels of the union of the Spirit, Father and Jesus. The temple lives in aggregate, in consolidation around the globe, in the followers of Jesus.

The commerce we are familiar in our human interfaces — rife with unavoidable annoyance, necessary payments, constant sales pitches, and specific contractural agreements — is designed to meet each other’s needs in a capital-based society. This worldly system is not appropriate to assign to God. 

The finesse of Jesus’ animal stampede, scattering of coins, and removal of birds reaches a crescendo in the “sign” he provided for all of creation, the sign that the Jews asked Jesus to provide. He did raise himself up after he was crucified. The Holy Spirit did descend upon the Christian hundreds who gathered at Pentecost. The temple was moved into the hearts of believers for the rest of time.

This was not an angry hothead who emptied the sanctuary, but the Son of God and Son of Man, walking into the house of the Father where the Holy Spirit emanated in fire and cloud. 

We will still run into the street vendors, the tithe, and the fiduciary responsibilities necessary in a capital-based world. All we need to do now is find out how God expects us to live out our temple lives, and better grasp the relationship he has with us, in us, and among us.