Well, unfortunately, once again this week, anti-Semitism has reared its ugly head. And we saw the results of a deranged individual driving into a temple Israel in Bloomfield Hills, Michigan. Hit kind of close to home for me. My brother served a church in that community for over 10 years, and so I’m familiar with it. But all the more reason that we need to take a lot of care in reading and interpreting John’s gospel, because that is in the Christian tradition, the source of much Christian antisemitism.

But it is based on a misreading and misunderstanding of John’s Gospel. John, as you all know—as I’ve said many times, but it’s just so important to repeat—John uses this term, “the Jews,” continually throughout his Gospel. And we need to take care in how we interpret that.

Because this was written at a time when Jews and Christians were not separate groups. They were part of the same community, yet they were beginning to come apart.

Much in the way that teenagers do with their parents. How many of you have been teenagers? Or are teenagers? Yeah. So we know what this is about. You have to form your own identity. You have to push away. You have to identify yourself differently. And the only real tool you have to do that as a teenager is apart from everything that you’ve known. And everything that John and his community have known up until this point is the Jewish tradition.

And they are separating from that, and so there is some animosity towards the Jewish community and John’s Gospel. But it is not for all times and all places. Christians and Jews are cousins, and we benefit from each other. We are part of the same tradition, just different branches.

And so as we read this today, with heavy hearts for what happened in Michigan, we take care to interpret these words carefully and thoughtfully.

John 18:28-40

Then they took Jesus from Caiaphas to Pilate’s headquarters. It was early in the morning. They themselves did not enter the headquarters, so as to avoid ritual defilement and to be able to eat the Passover. So Pilate went out to them and said, “What accusation do you bring against this man?” They answered, “If this man were not a criminal, we would not have handed him over to you.” Pilate said to them, “Take him yourselves and judge him according to your law.” The Jews replied, “We are not permitted to put anyone to death.” (This was to fulfill what Jesus had said when he indicated the kind of death he was to die.) 

Then Pilate entered the headquarters again, summoned Jesus, and asked him, “Are you the King of the Jews?” Jesus answered, “Do you ask this on your own, or did others tell you about me?” Pilate replied, “I am not a Jew, am I? Your own nation and the chief priests have handed you over to me. What have you done?” Jesus answered, “My kingdom does not belong to this world. If my kingdom belonged to this world, my followers would be fighting to keep me from being handed over to the Jews. But as it is, my kingdom is not from here.” Pilate asked him, “So you are a king?” Jesus answered, “You say that I am a king. For this I was born, and for this I came into the world, to testify to the truth. Everyone who belongs to the truth listens to my voice.” Pilate asked him, “What is truth?” 

After he had said this, he went out to the Jews again and told them, “I find no case against him. But you have a custom that I release someone for you at the Passover. Do you want me to release for you the King of the Jews?” They shouted in reply, “Not this man but Barabbas!” Now Barabbas was a rebel.

For the Word of God in scripture,
For the Word of God among us,
For the Word of God within us,
Thanks be to God.

***

Sometimes we back ourselves into a corner of our own making. Whether it be a script that we have about the way things are supposed to be or the way that we should respond in particular situations, sometimes we just find ourselves boxed in by our own choices. We didn’t intend to put ourselves in this position. Nonetheless, here we are.

And I think we see this phenomenon playing itself out in multiple ways in our passages. The Gospel writer John has backed himself into quite a corner as we continue to read about Jesus’ trial that will lead to his execution.

You see, John has utterly committed himself to a portrait of Jesus that is completely in control, is all-knowing and all-seeing, and nothing happens without his consent and acknowledgment.

Yet John has to tell the story of how it is that Jesus came to be convicted and executed for crimes that he may or may not have been guilty of.

And so the trial scene in John’s Gospel is so much more convoluted than the other Gospels—perhaps more convoluted than it needs to be, and perhaps even more convoluted than John himself intended it to be. But he has to tell the story in a way in which Jesus is on this train willingly that will lead to his death, and yet somehow he’s never out of control of the situation.

Last week, Jesus faced the father-in-law of the high priest, a man named Annas. He used to be the high priest, but now his son-in-law Caiaphas holds that post, and he’s presumably tied up with other business. So the religious leaders bring Jesus to the next best thing—the former high priest, the father-in-law of the current high priest, Annas.

There we see Jesus stand calm and confident, committed to nonviolence and trusting in God’s future. Meanwhile, the leaders struggle with how to handle him, and his disciple Peter denies knowing him—not once, not twice, but three times.

This week, the religious authorities bring Jesus before Pilate, the Roman-appointed governor of the region.

Now Pilate doesn’t usually hang out in Jerusalem. But he’s in town for Passover—not to celebrate it, mind you, but to make sure that the people are behaving themselves. After all, Passover commemorates the release of people from oppression, and Pilate doesn’t want the people to get any brave ideas.

So those who oppose Jesus see an opportunity. They bring Jesus to him and ask him to punish Jesus for his crimes.

“What crimes?” Pilate asks.

“Look at him,” the people respond. “He’s a criminal. We wouldn’t have brought him to you otherwise.”

We’ve heard similar circular reasoning recently with ICE raids on brown and Black people. They look the part, so they must be guilty, right? Assume guilt and make them prove they’re innocent. That’s the way empires work.

Barbara Brown Taylor cuts right to it when she writes, “Jesus was not killed by atheism and anarchy. He was brought down by law and order allied with religion, which is always a deadly mix.”

She writes, “Beware of those who claim to know the mind of God and who are prepared to use force, if necessary, to make others conform. Beware of those who cannot tell God’s will from their own.”

She writes, “Temple police are always a bad sign. When chaplains start wearing guns and hanging out at the sheriff’s office, watch out, because somebody is about to have no king but Caesar.”

In other words, the religious authorities are there to try to box Pilate into a corner of his own making. They want to make it politically expedient for him to do what they want him to do—which is get rid of Jesus.

But Pilate doesn’t get it.

“Why are they bringing him to me? Take care of this yourself,” he tells them.

But they respond that their tradition would not allow them to execute him, making it clear to Pilate what they want him to do.

So Pilate questions him. And his first question tells us all that Pilate really cares about.

“Do you call yourself king?” he asks Jesus.

To which Jesus responds, “You’ve said so,” which is definitely cheeky on Jesus’ part.

But again, the Gospel writer is invested in portraying Jesus as always in control.

Then Jesus, knowing the corner the religious authorities have put him in, offers an answer that lets Pilate off the hook. He says that his kingdom is not from this world.

What Pilate hears is that he is talking about some far-off fairy-tale heavenly kingdom, which puts him in the category of religious zealot—but not really a threat to Rome.

I mean, Jesus wasn’t the only one at the time going around claiming to be the Messiah. They were a dime a dozen.

Still, the religious authorities persist.

So Pilate asks, “What have you done to get these people so mad at you?”

And Jesus says, “I simply showed them the truth.”

To which Pilate famously asks, “What is truth?”

Finally, Pilate—no stranger to political trickery and treachery—comes up with a way for him to avoid blame and responsibility. He offers the religious authorities the choice.

He says, “Look, I don’t find any reason to convict this man. But since it’s Passover, I will release one prisoner of your choosing. Do you want me to release Jesus or Barabbas?”

Then the religious authorities, boxed in by their own scheme, choose to release Barabbas—a situation that John foretold in chapter 10, when the sheep choose a bandit, a wolf in sheep’s clothing, over the good shepherd.

Thereby Pilate gets what he wants.

Jesus is king—but his kingdom is like no other. If it were, Jesus tells Pilate, my followers would be fighting. But they’re not.

Jesus’ kingdom is not some heavenly fairy tale. It is an alternative way to live here and now—a way committed to nonviolence and the inherent worth of each and every person.

Pilate also gets an answer to his question, “What is truth?” though it’s less obvious at first.

But when we look back over the passage for truth, we see how scarce it is. The religious authorities aren’t being truthful. Even Jesus’ own disciple, Peter, can’t admit to the truth that he knows Jesus. And then there’s Pilate, who’s so immersed in the empire he wouldn’t know truth if it were standing right in front of him.

Which it is.

You see, according to John, truth is not an idea. It’s not a historical fact or philosophy.

It’s a person.

Jesus is the truth. Jesus shows us how God intends us to live and treat one another.

This week, the White House released a series of social media posts commingling missile strikes in Iran with video games and athletic competitions.

War as sport. War as entertainment.

Womanist theologian Wil Gafney responded, “The bodies of mothers, sons, and fathers, daughters are falling in this war as they do in all wars. Perhaps someone will be disabused of the idea that an air-based war is like a video game.”

Over the past several weeks, the Military Religious Freedom Foundation, a nonprofit organization in the U.S., has received an all-time surge in complaints from active service members that commanders are urging troops to believe that the war is part of God’s divine plan, citing biblical passages about the end times and the return of Jesus Christ.

Author and theologian Jemar Tisby reminds us that taking the Lord’s name in vain is not about cussing. It’s about doing things in God’s name that God would never condone.

What is the truth in a world full of lies and deception, in a world that treats war and loss like a game or a sport? What is truth in a world where might makes right?

John tells us Jesus is the truth and the way and the life—not those who use his name in vain.

Jesus is the truth. His way of nonviolence and belief in the sacredness of all life.

And so to be a Christian means that above all else—above nation, country, cause, political party, even family—we pledge our allegiance to the truth, which is not an idea but a person: the person we know as Jesus of Nazareth.

If we want to learn the truth, we must follow him and live as he taught.

In a world that’s boxed itself into a corner that can’t tell truth from lies, being Christian is more than a title. It’s more than a set of beliefs. It’s a way of living that is nonviolent, that believes in the inherent worth of each person.

Truth and the kingdom of God seem awfully far off right now, don’t they?

But you know, I’m sure that Pilate felt that way too—even though Jesus was standing right in front of him, looking him in the face.

Maybe we’re more like Pilate than we’d like to admit.

But friends, we don’t have to be.

Amen.

The post Were You There?: Questions of Faith appeared first on Roland Park Presbyterian Church.

Our scripture lesson today comes to us from the second chapter of John’s gospel verses 13 through 25.

John 2:13–25

The Passover of the Jews was near, and Jesus went up to Jerusalem. In the temple he found people selling cattle, sheep, and doves and the money changers seated at their tables. Making a whip of cords, he drove all of them out of the temple, with the sheep and the cattle. He also poured out the coins of the money changers and overturned their tables. He told those who were selling the doves, “Take these things out of here! Stop making my Father’s house a marketplace!” His disciples remembered that it was written, “Zeal for your house will consume me.” The Jews then said to him, “What sign can you show us for doing this?” Jesus answered them, “Destroy this temple, and in three days I will raise it up.” The Jews then said, “This temple has been under construction for forty-six years, and will you raise it up in three days?” But he was speaking of the temple of his body. After he was raised from the dead, his disciples remembered that he had said this, and they believed the scripture and the word that Jesus had spoken.

When he was in Jerusalem during the Passover festival, many believed in his name because they saw the signs that he was doing. But Jesus on his part would not entrust himself to them, because he knew all people and needed no one to testify about anyone, for he himself knew what was in everyone.

For the Word of God in scripture,
For the Word of God among us,
For the Word of God within us,
Thanks be to God.

***

It was about ten years ago that we were approached as a church by a company that wanted to put a cell phone tower on our roof.

They would handle all the expenses involved in the installation, and the church would be rewarded with a healthy payment each month. All we had to do was let them put it up and reap the benefits. Sounds good, right?

Except, there was fine print, and we had concerns. And ultimately, we declined. It wasn’t for us.

One of my seminary classmates pastors a church out west. The church is next to a major university’s basketball arena. So, every home basketball game, the church offers parking for $10 a spot, and the proceeds benefit the church’s youth and mission ministries.

Pretty smart, right?

One more example of a church engaging in what we might call business. This church is a mega church in the Midwest that one of my friends visited one Sunday. They had a band stage, a big screen up front, a coffee bar in the lobby—he had expected all of that. But what surprised him was the gift shop. When he first saw it, he was a bit curious. What did they sell? Bibles? Cross necklaces?

Yep. And the latest release of the church’s worship band, as well as a signed copy of the head pastor’s latest book.

Surely, such examples of mixing worship and business is what Jesus is opposed to in today’s passage, right? The assumption is that Jesus walks into the temple, sees the money changers, and is enraged at the mix of worship and business. Or maybe that the money changers were taking advantage of the travelers and charging exorbitant rates. I’ve heard that one a lot.

But John doesn’t say anything about corrupt practices, does he?

So we’re left wondering: What has Jesus so angry that he’s flipping over tables and driving out money changers with a whip of cords?

I mean, after all, they’re performing a necessary service. At this time, Passover is a pilgrimage holiday, meaning you don’t celebrate in your local house of worship. You pack your things and your people, and you travel to Jerusalem to visit the temple and make sacrifices. But you can’t carry everything with you, so you need money to buy an animal. And you need local currency to be able to do that.

This is all very routine stuff.

So why would Jesus throw them out?

Then at the end of the passage, we read that the people believed in him because of what? The signs.

That’s when I remembered—John doesn’t deal in miracles. He deals in signs. And so I wonder: What if Jesus going to the temple and causing a scene wasn’t some spur-of-the-moment act? What if he planned it? What if it is a show? Street theater? What if it isn’t about critiquing the mixing of business and worship—but something much, much bigger?

Remember, when we approach scripture, we don’t get out our axes and mine the passage for nuggets of truth. But we immerse ourselves in that world and explore it, and we’re curious, and we ask questions. And when we do that, we find connections.

Like in Zechariah chapter 14, verse 21, which reads: “There shall no longer be traders in the house of the Lord on that day.”

What day? Well, Zechariah is talking about the Day of the Lord—the day when the Messiah would arrive to set things right. Which would explain why John tells us this story up front.

In all of the other Gospels, this is one of Jesus’ last acts of his ministry. It’s literally the straw that breaks the camel’s back that leads to his execution. But in John—we’re only in chapter 2 here. This is at the beginning of Jesus’ ministry.

It’s not the last straw for John, but the announcement—or the sign—of why Jesus is there in the first place. As John will say in a passage we’re going to read next week, Jesus comes not to judge the world, but that we may have life, and have life abundantly in his name.

You see, Jesus isn’t critiquing the necessary practice of business in the temple. This isn’t a dig at Judaism. And it isn’t about cell towers on churches or renting out parking spaces or even, as distasteful as it is, a gift shop shamelessly promoting church staff.

It’s not about any of that.

Jesus is onto something bigger here. Something more along the lines of what the Hebrew scriptures talk about in the Day of Jubilee, where all debts will be forgiven.

Remember, the purpose of Jubilee isn’t economic. It’s theological. It’s so that we will remember that our neighbors are people and not dollar signs—and that we need them as much as they need us.

The Day of Jubilee reminds us that we belong to each other.

So Jesus is saying: when you come to worship, you should not need money as a way to track who is indebted to whom, and who’s the most important among us. He’s not saying that a few corrupt individuals do not belong among God’s people—quite the opposite. He’s saying everyone belongs, and that our whole system of collecting debt and amassing wealth and assigning value has no place in God’s kingdom.

Do you see the difference?

He’s saying that when we truly worship God, we realize that holiness is not confined to a church or a temple—but that everything is holy. Holiness is all around us.

He indicates this too, when the religious leaders confront him and ask: “On what authority are you doing this?” And Jesus’ response confounds them. He says, “Destroy this temple, and I will rebuild it in three days.” They say, “That’s impossible! It’s taken us 46 years and we’re still not done.”

But of course, Jesus isn’t talking about a building. He’s talking about himself.

Rob Bell essentially says, “Listen, I’m going to be killed. That’s where this thing is headed—because you don’t confront corrupt systems of power without paying for it. Sometimes with your own blood.”

So he’s headed to his execution. We don’t get that in the other Gospels until it’s almost over. But for John, it’s right up front.

Debie Thomas writes on the website Journey with Jesus: “Jesus interrupts, as usual, for the sake of justice and holiness. He interrupts worship as usual for the sake of justice and holiness. His love of God, the temple, and its people compels him to righteous anger.” And then she asks this: “If we ourselves are temples—holy places where heaven and earth meet—then what would it be like to work as Jesus does to preserve and protect all bodies, all holy places, all temples from every form of irreverence and desecration?”

After last week’s killing of Renee Good by a federal agent, the bishop of the Episcopal Diocese of New Hampshire announced: “I’ve asked the clergy of the diocese to make sure their affairs are in order and they’ve written their wills. It’s not time for statements. It’s time to put our bodies between the powers of this world and the most vulnerable.”

Of course, that’s what Renee Good herself was doing. She parked her car in the road to block ICE agents. They told her to move. She told them she wasn’t mad at them. Then one of the agents shot. He shot her three times as she attempted to leave.

Her wife, Rebecca, said, “We had whistles. They had guns.”

Describing her wife, she said, “Renee lived by an overarching belief: there’s kindness in the world, and we need to do everything we can to find where it resides and nurture where it needs to grow…Renee was a Christian who knew that all religions teach the same essential truth: we are here to love each other and care for each other and keep each other safe and whole.”

Was Jesus concerned with what happened inside the temple in Jerusalem? You bet he was.

But that’s not the temple he was talking about when he says, “Destroy this temple and I will raise it back up again in three days.”

We should have caught it right there. Did you hear it? He didn’t say rebuild it. He said raise it up.

Jesus insists that his execution would not be the end. Rob Bell says he’s talking about something new and unexpected happening after his death. He’s talking about resurrection.

He continues, he says:

Resurrection says that what we do with our lives matters—in this body, the one that we inhabit right now. Every act of compassion matters. Every work of art that celebrates the good and true matters. Every fair and honest act of business and trade, every kind word—they all belong, and they all will go on in God’s good world.

Nothing will be forgotten. Nothing will be wasted. It all has its place.

Friends, we are living in troubled times. We have whistles. They have guns. But violence is not the answer. That’s just business as usual. The whole system is broken. We need the Day of the Lord. We need Jubilee. We need to destroy the temple so that Jesus can raise it up again.

How do we do that?

Jesus told us and showed us.

We love each other. We care for each other. We keep each other safe as best we can. And we put ourselves on the line for those who are most vulnerable.

Pastor Benjamin Kramer writes, “If your heart is broken and your soul is deeply heavy in these days, that means you haven’t lost your humanity. Even though it’s painful, holding on to our humanity is what is urgently needed right now. Don’t allow the cynicism or cruelty we are witnessing to take that away from you. Love all the more fiercely.”

We have the extraordinary examples of Martin Luther King, Jr., Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Nelson Mandela, Renee Good to inspire us; people who literally put their bodies between harm and the most vulnerable.

But don’t forget, they didn’t do it on their own.

They had communities. They had loved ones and neighbors too. People that cared for them and supported them.

Friends, no act is too small if it’s done in love. The world needs our kindness. The world needs our love.

We will not find justice with a gun but with a whistle.

“Destroy this temple,” Jesus says, “and I will raise it up again.”

Amen.

The post Come and See: Holy Trouble appeared first on Roland Park Presbyterian Church.