Temple Theology

There are not many days, even as a priest, that one gets to really ‘feel’ in the moment that you are emulating Jesus but, some months ago I had a golden opportunity to do so as I attempted (and failed) to drive out a pigeon from the church.

Perhaps it was the lack of a whip of cords which made my attempts ineffective, or I would have had better luck with sheep and cattle - having worked for a brief stint as a farm hand in my youth. But the shop team were, thankfully far more persuasive (and ultimately successful) in evicting it using a trail of bird seed, than I was with my enthusiastic attempts at banishment of the biblical ‘dove’s’ scruffier cousin.

We mused at the time that perhaps I should have been driving out the whole shop instead for ‘trading in the Temple’, but a quick theological reflection mercifully reassured us that as long as we weren’t fleecing people; fundraising to keep the Church open to everyone was probably not what Jesus was referring to when he threw out the traders.

In contrast to the synoptic accounts, John’s Gospel places this event in which Jesus drives out the money changers and overturns their stalls, near the beginning of Jesus’ public Ministry. For the gospeller, this is not only Jesus telling us important truths about how we should live and practice religion, but also about who Jesus is. The writer also lets us in on the disciples own processing as it’s noted that they go on to remember Jesus speaking of the destruction and raising of the temple and, whilst those around at the time were confused by this, the disciples later realised that Jesus was referring to his own body as the Temple of God’s presence in his death and resurrection.

The Temple in first century thought is more than just stones. It is the meeting place of Heaven and Earth; not only the temple they are stood in (and the one that had pre-dated it) but the temple as an idea in Jewish thought is symbolic of the dwelling of God with God’s people; first in the Garden of Eden, then in the tabernacle as they travel, and in the first and second temples in Jerusalem. But now something new has happened, because in the Incarnation, Heaven and Earth meet in the person of Jesus and he is the ultimate Temple. He is the promised Christ: Emmanuel, God with us, walking among us, and uniting humanity to God in his very flesh. 

And Christ the Temple, comes to his stone Temple and he sees traders doing exactly the opposite of all he embodies – putting barriers between people and God; between earth and heaven. What’s worse, the priests are also either condoning or at least failing to challenge the exploitation of people for financial gain on temple grounds and appear to have appointed themselves as gatekeepers to a house that they do not own.

The Temple is God’s House, God’s dwelling place; a place of prayer, a place for humans to be made holy and to know God’s presence, a place to focus the devotions of a community who carried God’s story even through persecution, exile, and their own unfaithfulness; a place where all were called to offer themselves and their gifts, irrespective of their status in the world’s eyes; even the Gentiles were allowed into the outer courts. But here is Jesus at the heart of his people’s story and community – both High Priest and sacrifice; offering himself not only for those who the Temple police would deem ‘worthy’ but for everyone who believed in him.

So Jesus identifies himself with the Temple and takes his rightful place on this visit to it. This outburst is not Jesus getting too big for his boots; it is Jesus declaring who he is, and appropriately asserting his authority in that space. On this occasion, ‘zeal for God’s house’ consumes Jesus and we see less of the ‘gentle Jesus meek and mild’ of the manger scene; and more of the passionate, righteously angry, even ‘scary’ Jesus who knew his purpose and was unwavering in his pursuit of justice.

We are familiar with Jesus using reason to rail against those who tie people up in knots of impossible piety, or who mis-represent the truth so as to lord it over others. We are used to Jesus speaking up for those downtrodden in society too, and consistently see him place the marginalised at the centre of his Kingdom: children, women, disabled people, people of non-culturally-dominant ethnicities, poor and widowed folk – those who have been unjustly excluded or sidelined.

But he seems particularly incensed on this occasion that the very place ordinary people should be able to encounter God, has been robbed of its open doors by making people jump through hoops and pay extortionate prices for temple currency that would allow them to simply offer an acceptable sacrifice and gain entry to fullness of relationship with God.

Today we must ask ourselves too, who we, in the Church, locally and nationally, are making jump through unjust and impossibly-costly hoops before they can experience the fullness of relationship which we enjoy with God and each other in this place? Who are we denying blessing to because we have appointed ourselves as gatekeepers to grace, instead of recognising our role as stewards and heralds of the mystery of God’s unbounded love for all?

Woe to us who put stumbling blocks before those who want to know God, but cannot trust the institution. Woe to us who exploit the labour of queer people (lay and ordained) who faithfully serve and yet we still do not afford them the same right to loving and committed partnership and marriage as those who fit the powerful norm. Woe to us who built empires (and even churches) on slavery and dehumanisation, yet we deny those (whose bodies and communities were broken for our heritage) full reparation, restoration, and opportunity.

If we are to be a house of prayer, a temple of the Holy Spirit, and a place where God dwells in relationship with God’s people, then we must first drive out from our own lives and institutions, our willingness to remain oblivious to the suffering of others, and our enshrined structural complicity in the harm the church fails to rid itself of. 

We say ‘it will cost too much’ or ‘we cannot do this at the expense of unity’, and we protest that we cannot possibly spend the profit we have gained from assets of often questionable origin, on repairing relationships…. but we think nothing of the price our siblings in Christ continue to have to pay every day to keep the status quo.

When the lives, relationships, opportunities, and mental health of fellow humans, becomes currency which the Church trades for silence….then is the time for owning our faith, finding our voice and authority, emulating Jesus, and turning over tables. Not because we hate anyone, but because we are consumed by zeal for God house and love for all God’s people just as Jesus commanded us.

As we celebrate the dedication of this house of prayer today, we have an opportunity to not only reflect on its origins, but to choose its future too. We are a community so full of love, unwavering in our pursuit of the truth, and, I hope, humble enough to reflect upon our own gifts and failings with realism as well as compassion. But we still have work to do to play our part in the coming of God’s Kingdom in this city and beyond. And if the history of St Mary’s attests to anything, it is that whatever our theological or other differences, there is a place for everyone here.

In Jesus, in the Temple, Heaven meets Earth, God dwells with humanity, and in the Sacrament of his Body, we receive the life which heals, restores, and rebuilds us into a body which is indestructible, and will be raised at the last. Through our baptism, you and I become temples of God’s presence in the world too.

Let us look after our temple; treat it kindly, and take every opportunity to build it up in faith, hope, and love. But let it too be built on Christ’s example: have open doors, be unwilling to tolerate injustice, and be a place of prayer, within whose walls, no one is exploited but all may truly be known and loved, and freely offer their gifts to the God who welcomes all into his house. Amen.