Anger! It’s probably the one emotion that we often don’t equate with Jesus. And yet, he was as human as we are. Jesus got angry just as we do.
The Gospel story tells us that when Jesus went up to Jerusalem, he found people selling cattle, sheep, and doves, and the money changers seated at their tables in the temple. Making a whip of cords, he drove all of them out of the temple, both the sheep and the cattle. He also poured out the coins of the money changers and overturned their tables. “Take these things out of here! Stop making my Father’s house a marketplace!
Jesus was angry. The temple became a place to exchange coin so they could make an offering in the temple, a place to purchase animal offerings for the temple. He had come for prayer but didn’t find peace there. All the commotion!
And he drove them all out. Such a disturbance would not have endeared Jesus to either the Jewish or Roman authorities, and those selling animals & those exchanging money would be angry themselves for the disruption of their business. He didn’t care about that. It was Passover and a time of prayer and remembrance of the past. These were holy days and Jesus cleansed from the Temple that which distracted from all that.
Rabbi Danya Ruttenberg explains that the custom in Jewish households just before Passover to remove all the chametz, the leaven, from their homes. It means getting rid of any food made of grain and water that is allowed to ferment and rise: bread, cereal, cake, cookies, pasta, and beer. Chametz is the opposite of matzo, the unleavened flat bread eaten by the Israelites the night before their escape from Egypt.
On the last days before Passover, Jewish families thoroughly clean their homes - especially the kitchen - of every bit of chametz. Because chametz is such a big part of our diets, getting rid of chametz is not a simple task. Every carpet is vacuumed and every floor is swept. Every surface is scrubbed clean with boiling water. Some parents hide pieces of bread throughout the house and, the night before Passover, send their children to find them, to make them part of the ritual of Passover house cleaning.
Whatever food with chametz is found is either given away or burned. A separate set of pots, dishes and cutlery are brought out just for Passover.
The point of the Passover "unleavening" is to experience again the "newness" of what God has done: freeing his people from slavery and bringing them into a new land of promise and hope. This act of preparing for Passover invites Jews to remove the "spiritual" leaven from their lives as well as the physical stuff. If leaven is the agent for making bread rise, think of chametz as the puffy, overextended, inflated parts of our ego. Passover calls us to clean away those distractions and let go of our illusions about ourselves and embrace, instead, the spirit of the humble matzo. [From "Unleavening: The ancient and modern practice to free your soul" by Rabbi Danya Ruttenberg, Spirituality & Health, May/June 2106.]
For me, such an understanding puts Jesus cleansing of the temple in a new light. He was angry, yes, but he did what Passover is all about, he cleaned out the chametz from the temple, all that did not belong there, all that distracted from their faith and prayers, from the simple matzo.
But in the midst of Lent, this story isn’t just about what Jesus did long ago. It’s what he wants us to do right now. Now put away your whips. I want us to think about the temple that is our bodies.
In his interaction with others in the temple after he drove the moneychangers and animals out, he was also speaking of the temple of his body. How might we think of this? How do we prepare our temple?
Making the House Ready for the Lord
by Mary Oliver (©2006)
Dear Lord, I have swept and I have washed but
still nothing is as shining as it should be
for you. Under the sink, for example, is an
uproar of mice it is the season of their
many children. What shall I do? And under the eaves
and through the walls the squirrels
have gnawed their ragged entrances but it is the season
when they need shelter, so what shall I do? And
the raccoon limps into the kitchen and opens the cupboard
while the dog snores, the cat hugs the pillow;
what shall I do? Beautiful is the new snow falling
in the yard and the fox who is staring boldly
up the path, to the door. And still I believe you will
come, Lord: you will, when I speak to the fox,
the sparrow, the lost dog, the shivering sea-goose, know
that really I am speaking to you whenever I say,
as I do all morning and afternoon: Come in, Come in.
Inviting God into our lives. That is Lent. To remember and make ready through all the hectic ness of life, through sweeping out the leavened stuff we don’t need. We invite God to be with us as we enter God’s presence: in the holy temple, in this sacred space, in our homes and yards, even with the animals. Even if our temple doesn’t shine as it should, we say come in Lord Jesus.
As we prepare this Lent to celebrate Christ's passing over from death on the cross to life in the resurrection, may we embrace the spiritual practice of unleavening of our Jewish brothers and sisters: to sweep away the chametz of business-as-usual that distracts us and takes our time and energy away from realizing the love of God that is at the center of our lives & at the center of Christ's death and resurrection; to set aside the time to enter fully and prayerfully into the meaning of Jesus' passion in our own lives. Over this second half of Lent, may we sweep our temples of the unnecessary and distracting chametz in our lives and embrace the humility and joy of simple matzo, to pray and remember in order to fully experience that Easter resurrection in our hearts and homes. Amen.
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