Preached as a sermon at Croydon Minster. Gospel text John 2.13-22.
‘[Jesus] was speaking of the temple of his
body’ John 2.21
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For
centuries the temple in Jerusalem sat at the heart of Israelite religion.
The
temple was the place of sacrifice and of encounter with the presence of God in
all his holiness.
Housing
the Ark of the Covenant, the very presence of God, the temple’s roots are deep
in the story of God’s people.
Early
on, in the account of the Exodus it is as a roving sanctuary, resting on the
journey as the people of Israel moved through the wilderness before entering
the Promised Land.
Eventually,
brought by King David, God’s presence in the Ark came to rest on Mount Zion and
his son, Solomon, began the work of building the temple to house God’s presence.
Solomon’s
temple fell into disrepair when Israel was captive in exile in Babylon. Yet
under the priests Ezra and Nehemiah it was restored, and by Jesus’ day it had
recently been rebuilt by Herod the Great, taking some 46 years.
That
brings us to this visit of Jesus to the Temple, as recorded in all four gospels
(Matthew 21.12-17; Mark 11.15-19; Luke 19.45-48).
Indignant
at what he finds Jesus sweeps away the buying and selling which is a spin off
from the necessity to have animals to sacrifice in the temple.
Some
see this as an example of Jesus’ anger, an example of his humanity. On one
level that is right - Jesus has assumed our humanity - but it’s not that Jesus
is ‘losing his rag’. As the disciples later remembered, it is ‘zeal for God’s
house’ that has consumed him: it’s zeal; it’s passion.
Re-read
today’s gospel and we see that what Jesus is doing, in the tradition of the
prophets, is a purposeful, intentional act of resetting the Temple to its
original purpose: sacrifice to God is not about trading animals; encountering
God is not a commercial transaction.
The
temple is to be a house of prayer, a place of encounter with the Living God.
What
is new, and different from the prophets, is that this is a divine visitation on an institution that had become all too human:
as the prophet Malachi had said, ‘the Lord whom you seek will suddenly come to
his temple’ (Malachi 3.1).
The
stone-built temple was destroyed by the Romans in 70AD, some forty years after
the crucifixion and resurrection of Christ. So where is the temple now? So
where is the place of sacrifice now? Where is the place of encounter now?
The
clear statement of our gospel today is that the temple is a temple of flesh: the
temple of Jesus’ body. So, that’s the place of sacrifice; that’s the place of
encounter with the living God. The Body of Christ is of course profoundly what
the church is: you and me together, who feed on the Body of Christ in the
sacrament.
This
is the place of sacrifice, Jesus Christ gives his life that we might live.
Jesus Christ is both priest and sacrificial victim: ‘worthy is the Lamb once
slain’ (Revelation 5.12), not a lamb traded in the temple precinct, but the
Lamb of God who takes away the sins of the world.
The
temple is not abolished by Jesus but transformed and relocated in his flesh.
Read
the letter to the Hebrews and the Revelation to John and you see that the
temple, recast by Christ, feeds the Christian life and imagination.
In
its cleansing, the liturgical life of the temple - its rituals, customs,
sacrifices and services - are transformed by Jesus and embraced by the church,
not to exploit God’s people but to feed them.
So,
then, where sacrifice and encounter with God take place there is the temple. In
Christ this is a temple cleansed and fit for worship.
So
as Christians when we speak of the temple we speak of Jesus Christ, we speak of
our church building and we speak of ourselves.
Our
church is a temple, a place of sacrifice – where lives are offered and life is
received – and this holy place is a place of encounter.
And
you are too.
As
St Paul says, ‘Do you not know that you are God’s temple and that God’s Spirit
dwells in you?... God’s temple is holy, and you are that temple’. (1
Corinthians 3.16,17).
Christ’s
Mother, the Blessed Virgin Mary, is the pioneer of this reality. The power of
the Most High dwelt in her body, she gave her body – her human body, her woman’s
body - as the Lord’s temple; her life was opened to receive his life.
This
all points to the reverence and honour we have for the body as Christians: we
believe in the resurrection of the body, the ultimate statement of optimism
about human bodies.
So
we reject the separation of body and soul, the ancient heresy of Manicheism,
which sees the soul as too good or pure for one’s body; the body is seen as a
terrible encumbrance on a free spirit, and it means life is only lived through
the body and physical gratification. That is the path to self-loathing. It
afflicts many in our culture today.
We
are body and soul together.
Christ
visits the temple of our bodies and as we pray in Lent, ‘wash me thoroughly
from my iniquity, and cleanse me from my sin’ (Psalm 51.2). That is a prayer
that Christ might purge us, turn over some tables and upset some of our cosy
bargains with God, so that we can become more truly people of sacrifice,
offering our lives to Christ, the Lamb of God, that he might give us life in
this bloodless sacrifice of the Eucharist.
Let
us pray that we might be worthy temples of the Holy Spirit, a worthiness which
is not earned but is Christ’s gift, in the words of the Book of Common Prayer:
We offer and
present unto thee, O Lord, ourselves, our souls and bodies, to be a reasonable,
holy, and lively sacrifice unto thee; humbly beseeching thee, that all we, who
are partakers of this holy Communion, may be fulfilled with thy grace and
heavenly benediction. (Book of Common Prayer, Order for Holy Communion)
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