Uncharacteristic

This is my third sermon preached for Hope Lutheran Church in Saint Paul, but because of the Covid-19 pandemic, I preached it in my bedroom via video call. 

Gospel: John 2: 13-22

Grace and Peace to you, from God our loving Creator, and from our Wandering Savior Jesus the Christ, Amen

I love Lent. I’ve probably started a few of my lenten sermons like that, but I like to just point that out, so that you know what you’re getting into. In non-pandemic times, Lent usually denotes flowing minor tones in and throughout the music and liturgy, with a sense of somber self-reflection and silence in the louder parts of your life. Sometimes people either give up or add a practice to their lives during this time. I tried to do both, give up video games and add more reading of books… but that didn’t happen for longer than a week or so. So much for good intentions. 

I love Lent, and I also love this Gospel text. Pastor Andrew graciously offered for me to preach at some point this spring, and this Sunday worked best in my schedule, so it just so happened that the text I was to preach on is one of my favorites. Why, might you ask? Because there’s something about the uncharacteristic Jesus texts that really intrigue me. I call them uncharacteristic, because Jesus tossing tables and grabbing a whip is not a story we readily think about when we think about Jesus’ ministry. Neither is the story of Jesus going to Nazareth and being almost thrown off a cliff, or the time Jesus calls a woman a dog, or curses a fig tree… These stories show a different side of Jesus other than the healing feeding and teaching Jesus we’re used to seeing. 

But maybe being uncharacteristic is the point. This version of the story, in John, is the only version where Jesus fashions a whip to drive out the animals. It’s the only time where Jesus displays physical violence to prove a point. In this version, it’s told in a way that the author tells you the end of the Jesus narrative, in the second chapter no less, just in case the audience didn’t know the end of the story. 

In a full year of uncharacteristic realities, who knew that I could and would be preaching for you without driving the four hours to do so, but sit in my bedroom at home. That we as a planet would figure out how to do the normal things we usually would do, differently. But here we are, still engaging in the life of the congregation, just… differently. 

Jesus entered the temple with the disciples at Passover, to see the moneychangers and the animals milling about, and he chases out the animals with the whip and tosses the tables of the moneychangers on the ground. The temple devoted to God, was being utilized for practices that were meant to be elsewhere, outside of a temple of worship. This story happens, narratively, after the wedding at Cana, where abundance is shared with the turning of water into wine. In a turn of events, the abundance of the Temple is squandered for the sake of the moneychangers and the people selling the animals, and Jesus moves from a person showcasing abundant Grace, to laying down the law in the smashing tables. In this literal turning of the tables, is this the same Jesus that we’re used to reading about? The same Jesus that just turned water into wine? Is your view of Jesus the same at the wedding as it is at this moment?

In a recent episode of the Disney Plus show, WandaVision, two of the characters are discussing the Ship of Theseus. The Ship of Theseus is a philosophical exercise, in which one of the characters describes the issue: “The Ship of Theseus is an artifact in a museum. Over time, its planks of wood rot and are replaced with new planks. When no original plank remains is it still the Ship of Theseus?” Is a church still the church you understand it to be, if everything about the church is removed and replaced, is it still the same church?

If you were to contain your knowledge of Jesus to the Gospel of John just before this story - Jesus is introduced as the Word, God, and Grace upon Grace. Jesus has pointed to John the Baptizer, called the disciples and turned the water into wine, all relatively the same as the traditional view of Jesus. Now expanding to the rest of the Gospels, and barring the Nativity and Passion, if your understanding of Jesus is one of a loving Savior who feeds the hungry, heals the sick and clothes the naked - does this uncharacteristic story of a violent Jesus tossing tables change your understanding of Jesus? Does it change your faith in Jesus? If you were one of the disciples that Jesus just called a few weeks prior, would it change your view of Jesus?

Back to WandaVision, the character continues, “Secondly, if those removed planks [of the ship] are restored and reassembled, free of the rot, is that the Ship of Theseus?” At Luther Seminary, there’s an old log church that sits adjacent to campus, called Old Muskego, named after the town where it was originally built. The church was disassembled and moved from rural Wisconsin to where it sits now, to be rebuilt for Luther Seminary. Is it the same church it was in rural Wisconsin? 

A year ago, we had our first case of Covid-19 in Minnesota, and things soon shut down, with the hope that if we shut everything down, we’d be better off after a few weeks. A year later, with over 6,500 Covid deaths in this state alone, with over half a million dead across the country, we’ve suffered greatly, while also learning a great deal about this virus, our country and our neighbors. We’ve had to adapt - wearing masks when we’re out, staying at least six feet away from other people, staying away from loved ones and friends for everybody’s health and safety, and learned to live with constant anxiety from this horrific virus. But with over a million Minnesotans vaccinated already, and thousands of Minnesotans being vaccinated everyday, the light at the end of the tunnel is getting closer and closer. Are we the same people that we were a year ago? Have we learned anything personally, communally, because of this pandemic? 

Finally, the world watches Minnesota this week, specifically the Derek Chauvin trial, to see if we have learned anything about racial justice and police reform. When the world erupted in some of the largest, most populous and most racially diverse protests in history last May, there was a collective understanding that maybe the murder of George Floyd was the catalyst that would propel us to understand our Black neighbors better. Maybe our relationship to policing would be different, maybe our commitment to racial justice would be better. Are we the same people that heard how Breonna Taylor was murdered in her home in February of last year and didn’t erupt until George Floyd was filmed for over eight minutes while he was dying? If we feel we have significantly changed in our attitudes toward racial justice and policing, is that enough? Is it enough to be changed personally, if we don’t change our ways communally? 

Jesus sees the marketplace chaos in the Temple, and erupts, kicking tables and chasing animals and dumping money everywhere. Buildings burned in Minneapolis, with communities on edge for the outcome of this trial for the potential of more burning. Was Jesus’ relationship with the Holy, the disciples, the people of the day, the same as it was before the eruption in the Temple? Is our relationship with the Holy, the people among us, God in the Flesh, different than we were a year ago? Are we the same people, in all that has happened, that we were a year ago? Is the Ship of Theseus the same vessel before and after the repairs and replacements? 

Jesus was both the Savior of healingfeedingteachingclothingserving, but also the Savior that knocked tables over and cursed trees. Jesus was the same Messiah who was born in uncharacteristic circumstances for a King, and nailed to a cross with a crown like a King. Jesus was the same kicker of tables as the griever of friends. The refugee and the hope for refugees. The wanderer and the leader. The Gospel and the Law. The Word and Son of God. The Grace and Love and Mercy of God. 

We can be the same person we were before. We are the same people we were before. But we are also forever different, forever changed, forever the original ship and the rebuilt ship. It’s the question of what we do with this knowledge that we have gained over the last year. Do we continue to spin the wheels, or do we correct the injustices that this last year has laid bare? What can we do personally, communally? In this season, my favorite season of Lent, what collective ponderings will remind us of who we are, but also who we can grow into? 

I invite you to be uncharacteristic in your life this Lent. We await and pray for justice. Together with our neighbors, we await the Passion of the coming days. 

God’s got this. 

Amen.