Imagine, if you will, that you live in first century Judea. You are blessed with a teenage son, Nathan, who has just gone through his bar mitzvah, his coming of age as a Jewish “man.” For years you have described to him what the Temple was like, and what it would be like when he was old enough to take, for the first time, the sacrificial lamb into the temple courts for his family. You have carefully tutored him on what to say and to do, and he has been an eager learner. He has raised the lamb, the lamb that he picked, from birth. It is beautiful. It is perfect. It is well-chosen as a young man’s first gift to God.
With some considerable pride you set out for Jerusalem and the Passover feast. The city is unimaginably crowded with countless pilgrims and their sacrifices. Nathan waits in line for his opportunity to enter the Temple and offer his lamb. As you enter the temple courts, a priest asks you if you have your temple tax, so you prompt Nathan, who reaches into his bag and shows the coins. “No,” says the priest, “these coins can’t be taken into the temple – they have the image of Caesar stamped on them. They’re idolatrous!” Nathan looks at you for a clue as to what to do, but you’re both on unfamiliar ground here.
“So what are we supposed to do?” you ask.
The priest points over to a table on one side of the entrance and says, “You’ll have to take this Roman money over there and exchange it for temple coins.” You start to balk, but one of the temple guards glares at you and nods his head in the direction of the exchange tables. You are mad, but grudgingly, you make the trade, only to discover that the exchange rate means that you’ve already spent much of the money you’d saved for the trip. You grouse about it to the man exchanging the money, but he just shrugs his shoulders and turns to the next customer.
You pat Nathan on the back, and say, “it’s alright, Nathan, everything will be fine.” You both turn toward the Temple gate.
As you enter, a priest comes up to Nathan to examine his lamb. He shakes his head; “This lamb won’t do – you’ll need to get a replacement.”
“That lamb is perfect,” you growl back, as you see the hurt on Nathan’s face.
“I am the priest, and I make that determination. Think what you want, and say what you will, you will not sacrifice that animal at this temple.” He pauses, then makes an offer: “ That vendor over to the right will buy this grubby little beast, and sell you one that is suitable.”
Your blood is boiling, but your son is watching. You stomp over to the sheep seller, who spends more time assessing you than he does Nathan’s lamb. He makes a ridiculous offer for Nathan’s animal and quotes an astronomical price for the one he is willing, “out of the goodness of his heart,” to sell you. It is as if the man knows exactly how much money you have in your pocket. And the lamb he is selling? It is not half the animal that Nathan’s is.
While struggling with my temper and my decision, a quiet man with this intense face comes up, lifts Nathan’s lamb into his arms, says, “Beautiful animal,” and then asks us to stand over against the wall for a few moments. What happens next is best described in the words of a man who later became a friend of mine:
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, both 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.
John 2:13-22 – NRSV
What does the righteous anger of God look like? This story provides us with one sample. Let’s hear the words of David describing the holy wrath of God:
Then the earth reeled and rocked;
the foundations of the heavens trembled
and quaked, because he was angry.
Smoke went up from his nostrils,
and devouring fire from his mouth;
glowing coals flamed forth from him.
He bowed the heavens, and came down;
thick darkness was under his feet.
He rode on a cherub, and flew;
he was seen upon the wings of the wind.
He made darkness around him a canopy,
thick clouds, a gathering of water.
Out of the brightness before him
coals of fire flamed forth.
The Lord thundered from heaven;
the Most High uttered his voice.
He sent out arrows, and scattered them —
lightning, and routed them.
Then the channels of the sea were seen,
the foundations of the world were laid bare
at the rebuke of the Lord,
at the blast of the breath of his nostrils.
He reached from on high, he took me,
he drew me out of mighty waters.
He delivered me from my strong enemy,
from those who hated me;
for they were too mighty for me.
They came upon me in the day of my calamity,
but the Lord was my stay.
He brought me out into a broad place;
he delivered me, because he delighted in me.
2 Samuel 22:8-20 – NRSV
When evil interferes with you, the child of God, know that it does not please God. When someone treats a child in an evil way, know that it invites the wrath of God. How righteous wrath is different from some kinds of human anger is something that we will discuss soon. Until then, spend the day knowing that you have a Father who is passionate in his love and care for you, and for all of his children.
Blessings,
Ron
P.S. – This devotional thought is developed from a sermon by a friend of mine, Sheldon DeVries.
