John 2:13-22 - Turning the Tables - March 7, 2021

Given that there’s been basically nothing to do for the past year, many people have turned to television and movies for a distraction from the doldrums of pandemic life. I’ll admit, I’m no exception. But what I discovered about my taste for entertainment is that I can’t stand predictable storylines. They’re not worth my time. I prefer the shows where things aren’t what they appear to be; where the bad guys turn out to be good and the good guys turn out to be bad; where what seemed to happen didn’t really happen at all. I promise I am not launching a sermon series based on a TV or movie series. I only bring it up because the text before us is a lot like those shows: in the end everything gets turned upside down.

This is a different situation than the one we considered two Wednesdays ago. This one takes place near the beginning of his ministry. Jesus goes into the most holy city on earth, Jerusalem; into the most holy building in that city, the temple; during the most holy time of the year, Passover; and he trashes the place. He turns over the tables of the vendors and money-changers providing the necessities for the celebration of the Passover. The Jewish leaders were understandably upset – they didn’t think the tables needed turning over. They saw it as a pragmatic, convenient and profitable practice. Where else could the pilgrims who had traveled so far purchase the sacrificial animals they needed for the Passover? Can you imagine trying to haul a bull or a lamb dozens or hundreds of miles from your home to Jerusalem? It could run off or be stolen or get sick on the way. Or the priest might tell you once you got it to the temple that it was unacceptable for sacrifice. They saw the buying and selling as a necessary convenience – as well as the money changing. The temple tax had to be paid in a specific type of shekel that was minted only in Jerusalem – therefore, pilgrims who had come from any distance were unlikely to have them on hand. It all seemed pretty innocuous and, well, necessary. How else could the Jewish pilgrims pay the temple tax? Why shouldn’t they be able to change their money – for a fee, of course – and purchase their sacrificial animals – at a premium – all in one place? It was all very convenient for the worshipers and very profitable for the priests.

The whole arrangement was just fine with everyone until Jesus showed up. He made it clear that everything wasn’t just fine. He wasn’t buying the convenience argument. Since when was worship supposed to be convenient? Since when was it supposed to be easy? Since when was the worship of the Lord supposed to be something that didn’t interfere with the rest of your life? Nor was Jesus buying the argument that this was how the priests received their livelihoods and provided for the upkeep of the temple. Is this how God had revealed that his temple and his ministers were be provided for? Were they supposed to turn the church into a for-profit business? Were they supposed to profit from selling things that were necessary for worship? No, the Lord’s temple and his ministers were to be provided for out of the fruit that the Word of God produced, then and now (Leviticus 7:28-36; 1 Corinthians 9:14).

Would you believe that this wasn’t the worst thing Jesus found in the temple that day? As corrupt and immoral as the business dealing in the temple courts was, the worst thing was that it interfered with the temple’s primary purpose. God’s house was to be a place of prayer for all nations (Isaiah 56:7). The animals, with their braying and baaing, their stink and their flies and their manure, were being bought and sold in the court that had been set aside for the Gentile converts to pray and worship. The money-changers with their clinking coins and bickering about exchange rates made the Gentile place of prayer anything but peaceful.

So Jesus turned the tables on those who had turned his Father’s house into a farmer’s market. Yes, the church leaders might have thought it was a great idea, but Jesus showed them what God thought of it. And he didn’t do it gently. He made a whip out of the short ropes used to tether animals and drove them all out of the temple. The original Greek makes clear that he didn’t just use the whip on the animals but on the people buying, selling, and exchanging money. Jesus wasn’t kind; he wasn’t polite. He didn’t say “Please gather up your things and head for the nearest exit.” No, he bellowed get these things out of here! Stop turning my Father’s house into a place of business!

It just makes you want to cheer, doesn’t it? It makes you long for this kind of Jesus to show up today, doesn’t it? Don’t you want Jesus to storm into the many “progressive” churches and shout, “How dare you turn my Father’s house into a haven for homosexuality?” Don’t you want Jesus to rush into the mega-churches that have turned God’s work into big business – with pastors and board members becoming wealthy by fleecing the flock and shout: “How dare you use my Word and my flock to enrich yourselves”? Don’t you want a Jesus who gives a voice and a fist to the outrage you feel toward the churches that safeguard sin and turn God’s house into a business? “Yes! Finally! Go get’em Jesus!”

Don’t grab the popcorn just yet. Contrary to popular opinion, confessional Lutheranism is not primarily about pointing out the specks in the eyes of the world or even of heterodox – that is, false-teaching – churches. No, before we can even think of judging others, we need to see the planks that stick out of our own eyes (Matthew 7:1-5). Are there tables in your own life that Jesus could turn over? Are there things in your heart and mind that should be drive out? Are there things and behaviors in your own life that Jesus could take a whip to? Before we get too excited about Jesus turning over the tables out there, we better check our own tables.

“No, pastor, you’re preaching to the choir here. We have the pure gospel in Word and Sacrament. We don’t safeguard sin or turn God’s house into a farmer’s market.” Here’s the thing: God is just as interested in what’s going on in his dwelling place in our hearts as he is with what happens here in his house. In fact, we are temples of the Holy Spirit (1 Corinthians 3:16). You heard the 10 commandments from Exodus 20; how long did it take for you to be convicted? How about the 1st commandment? Martin Luther explains that we should fear, love and trust in God above all things. Fear? A whole lot of people seem to fear viruses and being shamed on social media and losing their jobs than they do God today – are you one of them? Trust? Do you worry…about anything? That’s not trust. Love? Show me your calendar and your bank statement, and I’m pretty sure I can tell what you love, after all, Jesus said where your treasure is, there your heart will be also (Matthew 6:21).

And that’s just the 1st commandment. What about our worship lives? Are they God-pleasing? The Jews thought their worship was pleasing to God. And Jesus trashed it. If Jesus walked into the temple of your heart, what would he find there that would need to be driven out? We may publicly confess that we believe that God’s Word – and the Lutheran Confession of what it means – is the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth; but in how many areas do we really think – “yeah, that’s what my church says, but I don’t really believe it”? How many of us pray “thy will be done” in here but once we’re out those doors we are only interested in doing our own will? How many of us have rationalized and minimized the sins in our own lives because we can see so many other people committing so many more and so many worse sins? How many times do we worship God with our lips while are hearts are far from him (Isaiah 29:13)? We may think that our hearts and our lives are acceptable to God – but Jesus shows us the truth: they’re not. We are not acceptable to God as we are – no matter what we may delude ourselves into thinking.

It kind of makes you want to run away – like those vendors and money-changers – and never come back, doesn’t it? Why should I come here to have my life, my thoughts, my words, my actions trashed? I’ll admit, as I wrote this sermon, I was thinking: “who am I to stand up here and say these things to anyone? I need to have these things said to me! I’d be better off resigning than preaching this to anyone.” But then I remembered that this text is like those shows where everything is not what it seems. Where Jesus turns the tables not once, but twice.

Jesus wasn’t just posturing, he wasn’t just virtue signaling by his actions in the temple that day. He was deadly serious. The penalty for defiling God’s house was death (Acts 21:28). The penalty for just going through the motions of worship – that is, hypocrisy – was damnation (Matthew 7:21-23). But not a single vendor died that day even though they were guilty of defiling God’s house. Not a single banker was damned in spite of their hypocrisy. I didn’t have a heart-attack while I was writing this sermon – even though it’s what I deserved. Not one of you has dropped dead for allowing your mind to wander while God’s Word was being preached. Not one of us has gone to hell because we stepped forward to receive the body and blood of our Lord Jesus with only pretend repentance – fully intending to continue going about our lives of sin. That’s because the tables were turned on Jesus.

When the tables were turned on Jesus, when he went from beloved Son (Mark 9:7) to wretched sinner (Psalm 22:1-2), it was not gentle or tender. Jesus did not have a whip made of small ropes applied to his back; he had a long, leather one embedded with flesh-shredding shards of metal or stone. Jesus did not have the opportunity to turn over his tables and pour out his sin in confession for forgiveness. No, he had all of our sins dumped on him and was forced to spill his holy, precious blood to pay for them (1 Peter 1:18-19). Jesus wasn’t just threatened with the Law; no, the full punishments of the Law were brought down on him like a sledgehammer until he cried out my God, my God, why have you forsaken me (Mark 15:34) and broke down and died.

The tables are turned during Lent. The holy, righteous Son of God is treated like the worst sinner on earth; guilty sinners like us are treated as the righteous, holy sons and daughters of God. Jesus got what we deserve; we get what he deserves. Jesus is driven out of God’s house to die; we are invited into God’s house to find life. We should come to church expecting to get a tongue-lashing for our sins. Instead, for Jesus’ sake, we’re told that we have been forgiven. We should come to the baptismal font expecting to be drowned. Instead, for Jesus’ sake, our sins are drowned and we are given new life. We should come to Communion expecting to be poisoned for the sins we’ve committed this week. Instead, Jesus gives us his body and blood as the life-giving food of immortality. We should expect to walk out those doors under God’s curse. Instead, because Jesus was cursed in our place, we walk out with God’s blessing.

This is Lent. Lent is where things aren’t really as they seem; where the tables are turned. In Lent Jesus comes into our comfortable, convenient lives and turns over the tables to show us that we aren’t as good, as acceptable to God as we think we are – to lead us to repentance. But once Jesus has flipped over our tables he invites us to come back to see and believe that the tables have been turned again. Jesus has gone to the cross to suffer the punishment we deserved while we come here to receive all of the grace, mercy and love that he earned. Because Jesus has both turned the tables on us and for us, we can be certain that we have a place at God’s table in heaven. That’s why Lent is a show worth watching. Amen.