Sermon: A house of prayer
I imagine it was
because he knew the potential and the possibilities that Jesus got so mad when
he saw what it had become, and that it was no longer what it was meant to be,
and what it could be.
Imagine having a
place to pray -- where you can spend time simply adoring God, being open to and
aware of the Higher Power above and within and in the midst of all life --
where you can honestly confess your sin, speak about the brokenness of your
life and your heart, uncover the trail of wreckage you’ve left behind you, and
not be damned for it – where you can be thankful for the Love that underlies
all life and that holds you and all creation in tender and gentle care – where
you can pray for others, that they too may know this Love, pray for all the
world, for its healing, and pray for you to know and be able to act out your
part in it.
A place where you
can pray the Lord’s Prayer – our Father, who art in heaven – day after day,
week after week, season after season – and to have your life renewed and transformed
and made good by it – day after day, week after week, season after season.
None of what
Jesus was upset about in the Temple – the sellers of turtledoves, the money
changers, even the whole priestly class and superstructure, started out as
anything evil. In fact, there was reason
for all these things to be there.
Yes, way back in
the beginning, it was said each person and household should make their own
offering to God, with their own hands to choose and kill and offer up their own
unblemished animal to the Almighty, to enter themselves into that lived-out
relationship of thanks, submission and trust with the Higher Power. But when the Temple was built as a central
place of righteousness and reconciliation for the people as a whole, and
hundreds and thousands of pilgrims came to make offering to share in the
nation’s holiness, it only made sense to create a priestly class – a corps of
people trained and set apart, to do the work and do it right on behalf of all
the people.
And who could
walk all the way from Galilee or wherever they lived to Jerusalem with an
unblemished animal taken from their flock at home, and still have it
unblemished by the time they reached the city and the Temple? It only made sense that people be able to buy
an animal suitable for the sacrifice once they get there.
So then there was
the money. All the money the people had
at home and brought with them was Roman coinage. It had the image of the emperor on it, and to
use it in the Temple precinct for holy purposes was idolatry. So it only made sense to have moneychangers
at the Temple gate, so people could trade in their Roman currency for
appropriate, image-less Temple coinage.
It all made
sense. But it also meant that step by
step, the people were slowly distanced from their God, and God from the
people. Layer upon layer of process was
created. Institutional structure grew
up. Opportunities multiplied for
corruption, for price-gouging, for superficiality, and for a mechanical,
bureaucratic, check-list kind of spirituality, in place of the renewing and
transforming practice of prayer that was meant to be at the heart of each and
every life.
I wonder how
Jesus feels about what we do here?
I have to admit
there are some Sundays when I wonder whether what we have just done, or are in
the midst of doing, is worshipful. We
have all kinds of things that have grown up here and been added to our worship
of God and the practice of praying together – from the building itself to the
style and pattern of our liturgy, from paid minister and music director to
volunteer choir and readers and candle lighters and leaders of all different
kinds, from prayers spoken only by one person to written-out responsive prayers
to times of silence, from hymn books and candles and crosses to images and
words on a screen – all intended for good purpose, to help open us to the
presence of God not only here but in all the world and in our lives, and to
help us be renewed, encouraged and changed by the encounter.
But there are
some Sundays I wonder whether this week some part of what we are doing or what
we have has become a distraction, or a barrier to real worship and openness to
God. Or maybe an idol – a god unto
itself. Or a substitute – a way of
letting someone else do the work of worship so we don’t have to, letting someone
or something else be engaged in conversation with God on our behalf, so we can
hold back and not be so engaged.
Jesus knows the
potential and the possibility for holiness in this place, and within this
congregation. So I’m sure he gets mad if
he sees us not living up to it, not living into it.
And the same in
our lives – apart from here, in our homes, at school and at work, in our
neighbourhoods and in the world.
There too we make
compromises, don’t we, with the kind of life we could be living, and we know we
are meant to be living. Not necessarily
with evil intent. Not meaning to grow away
from God and our own best way of being.
But it happens step by step, each step making sense and being totally
defensible. But nonetheless taking us
step by step away from intentional relationship and conscious openness with
God, turning daily life into a series of automatic responses and
less-than-mindful patterns of behaviour, opening the door to all kinds of compromise,
blindness, anxiety, numbness and thoughtlessness, hurt – both hurting-others
and being-hurt, and who knows what kinds of personal wreckage that we don’t
always see because in so many ways it all makes sense.
Except when we
look at it through Jesus’ eyes – through God’s eyes, and we see that it
doesn’t.
So imagine having
a place to pray -- where you can spend time simply adoring God, being open to
and aware of the Higher Power above and within and in the midst of all life --
where you can honestly confess your sin, speak about the brokenness of your life
and your heart, uncover the trail of wreckage you’ve left behind you, and not
be damned for it – where you can be thankful for the Love that
underlies all life and that holds you and all creation in tender and gentle
care – where you can pray for others, that they too may know this Love, pray
for all the world, for its healing, and pray to know and be able to act out
your part in it.
Imagine a place
where you can pray the Lord’s Prayer – our Father, who art in heaven – day
after day, week after week, season after season – and have your life renewed
and transformed and made good by it – day after day, week after week, season
after season.
Can you imagine
such a place, and can you find a way to be there?
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