Jesus clears the Temple

I remember when I was at college and we were studying Mark's gospel, in Greek no less! One of the things that becomes apparent in Mark's gospel is the way that the narrative is often illustrated by another event. We called them sandwiches! Take for example the clearing of the Temple in Mark 11. The story progresses something like this:

Jesus makes his royal entrance into the city. He visits the Temple and looks around, but it's late so he leaves and stays overnight nearby. In the morning he decided to gather a few figs, but the tree is bare. He curses it (how odd is that?) and then moves on to Jerusalem where he proceeds to drive out the traders who had taken over the outer courts, declaring it to be prayer-house not a warehouse.

The following morning they pass the fig tree which has now withered and died, Jesus talks to them about faith.

Most of us might have expected Jesus to talk about empty religion, about how the fig tree, full of leaves but no fruit, parallels the Temple where there were all the forms of religion but no fruit of faith. But he makes no mention of the Temple or the events that had occurred the previous day. But maybe that's the point.

Maybe the whole problem is faith. You can have all the structure you like, but if there's no faith, there's no power. In fact the very structures you think are helping might just be hindering. The forms and structures, the rites and rituals, might just be working against discovering real faith.

I'm not about to suggest that we drop everything and go out and experiment on a few mountains, but it does seem to me that way too often we restrict ourselves by trying to fit God into our box, to tame him or control him, when in truth he can be neither tamed nor controlled.

And more importantly than anything, it challenges us to pray.

How do you explain Jesus?

As we approach Easter I'm thinking about preparing some sort of Easter week reflective guide. I've often found Max Lucado to be helpful in the process, and so I turned to my bookshelves and sought out my copy of And the Angels were Silent. here's a quote from the beginning of the very last chapter:

What do you do with such a man? He called himself God, but wore the clothes of a man. He called himself Messiah, but never marshalled an army. He was regarded as king, but his only crown was of thorns. People revered him as regal, yet his only robe was stitched with mockery... How do you explain such a man?

CEBC Times (2)

And the second big news story of the day...

Lost. Found. Lost again!

Earlier this week the donkey Jesus rode into Jerusalem went missing again. Police fear that this might be a celebrity kidnapping, but as yet no word has been received about the donkey’s location.

Arthur Fishmeal, the donkey’s owner said today, “He’s a really good worker that donkey. Our business is suffering. It’s costing us a small fortune having to hire transport. Pots and pans don’t deliver themselves you know! Even though he had one leg shorter than the others, he was one key donkey.”

The donkey shot to fame when he became the impromptu vehicle of choice of Jesus of Nazareth. The event caused quite a stir as crowds gathered and cheered him along the road into the capital. Jerusalem residents were less impressed.

“A prophet can’t come from Galilee,” they said, “It’s unheard of.”

The Pharisees were also indignant and demanded that Jesus quiet the crowd. He responded, telling them that if the crowd stopped, the stones would cry out!

If you see this donkey contact Sergeant Auspex Perspex on Jerusalem VVV-IXIXIX-IXIXIX.

A small reward may be offered for the safe recovery of this valuable animal.

CEBC Times

We did our Easter Celebration as a newscast with a variety of characters taking part. We had a great piece of animation and music to set the scene and underline the newscast theme. We also did our notice sheet in the style of a newspaper, and for fun we used Roman numerals for dates and times!!

There were two cover stories for our newspaper. Here's the first.

Body Disappears!

Early reports this morning suggest that the body of the Galilean rabbi, Jesus of Nazareth, has disappeared from his tomb.

The sometimes controversial preacher was executed last Friday by the Roman authorities. But early this morning rumours began to surface about the disappearance of his body.

Government officials were not available for comment but religious leaders said, “We told Pilate that this might happen. This Jesus made some outrageous claims, one of which was that he’d rise from the dead. That’s why we asked for a guard on the tomb.”

When asked, one of the guards simply said, “He was there last time we looked!”

Speculation is high about what actually happened. In the confusion of the early hours, one of the guards spoke about an earthquake, others spoke about strange men dressed in white wandering around the area immediately surrounding the tomb.

Followers of the enigmatic prophet claim to know nothing of his whereabouts, but one early visitor to the site of the tomb claims that he might be alive and that they had spoken with him in the garden area outside the tomb where he is supposed to have been buried.

Easter artwork

For our special event later today I wanted to create some sort of visual aid in the form of a large puzzle. This is what we came up with:

As you can probably see, we've used boxes onto which we've painted our simple scene of the empty tomb. These are packing boxes that we turned inside out and reassembled so that we had a plain surface on which to paint.

Many thanks to Roy and David for all their help. David did the sketch and supervised the painting. Here they are standing beside our work of creative genius (I did the rocks and the clouds!)

Easter reflections

The previous series of posts owe a lot to Max Lucado. I wrote a lot of them, but they were definitely inspired by several of Max's books, and his writing style was the basis for how I tried to write these reflections on the passion story. If there are bits that come straight form the books, I freely acknowledge them. I just can't say if there are any or not. It's such a long time ago that I put them together for an Easter reflection.

We'll be using them again this year at our "This is Love" presentation on Sunday in the village hall at Shortstown. Which reminds me, I need to pop to Maplins before they shut to get a few things.

The Greatest Miracle

unny how close the end of the tax year and Easter can be. Sometimes coinciding. always within a couple of weeks. With apologies to the Inland Revenue, one seems very heavenly, the other very earthly. One minute it's Calvary, the next it's the calculator. One is a reminder of how God paid it all, the other a reminder of what we owe the government. But then again, if the cross doesn't make sense in a common week full of common tasks, when does it make sense? That is the beauty of the cross. It occurred in a normal week involving flesh-and-blood people and a flesh-and-blood Jesus.

Of all the weeks for Jesus to display his powers, his final week would be the one. A few thousand loaves or a few dozen healings would do wonders for his image. Better still a few Pharisees struck dumb would make life simpler. Don't just clean the temple, Jesus, pick it up and move it to Jericho. When the religious leaders mutter, make it rain frogs. And as you are describing the end times, split the sky and show everyone what you mean.

This is the week for razzle-dazzle. This is the hour for the incredible. You can silence them all, Jesus. But he doesn't. Not in Jerusalem. Not in the upper room. Not on the cross. The week, in many respects, is run-of-the-mill. Yes, it’s festive, but its celebrations are due to Passover, not Jesus. The crowds are large, but not because of the Messiah. Jesus wasn't displaying his power. It was an ordinary week.

Nature gave no clue that the week was different than any of a thousand before or after it. The sun took its habitual route. The clouds puffed through the Judean sky. The grass was green and the flowers danced in the wind. Nature would groan before Sunday. The rocks would tumble before Sunday. The sky would put on a black robe before Sunday. But you wouldn't know it by looking at Monday, Tuesday or Wednesday, or even Thursday. The week told no secrets.
The people gave no clue either. For most it was a week of anticipation; a weekend of festivities was arriving. Food to be bought, houses to be cleaned. Their faces gave no forecast of the extraordinary for they knew of none. And most importantly, Jesus gives no clue. His water doesn't turn to wine. His donkey doesn't speak. The dead stay in their graves and those blind on Monday are still blind on Friday.

You'd think the heavens would be opened. You'd think trumpets would be sounding. you'd think angels would be summoning all the people of the world to Jerusalem to witness the event. You'd think that God himself would descend to bless his Son. But he doesn't. He leaves the extraordinary moment draped in the ordinary. A predictable week. A week of tasks, meals, and crying babies. A week which might be a lot like yours. Doubtful that anything spectacular has happened in your week. No great news, no horrible news. No earthquakes shaking your house. No windfalls. Just a typical week of chores and children and checkout lines. It was the same for the people of Jerusalem. On the edge of history's most remarkable hour was one of history's most unremarkable weeks. God is in their city and most miss him.

Jesus could have used the spectacular to get their attention. But he didn't. Even when he emerged from the tomb on Sunday morning, he didn't show off. No angelic choir announcing the event. He simply walked out. Mary thought he was a gardener.

Do you see the point?

God calls us in a real world. He doesn't communicate by performing tricks. He doesn't communicate by stacking stars in the heavens. He's not going to speak to you through voices in a cornfield or a little fat man in a land called Oz. It doesn't make any difference if you are an Aquarius or Capricorn or if you were born on the day Kennedy was shot or England won the World Cup. God's not a trickster. He's not a genie. He's not a magician or a good luck charm or the man upstairs. He is, instead, the Creator of the universe who is right here in the thick of our day-to-day world who speaks to you more through cooing babies and hungry stomachs than he ever will through horoscopes, zodiac papers, or weeping Madonnas.

In the final week those who demanded miracles got none and missed the one. They missed the moment in which a grave for the dead became a throne of a king. Don't make their mistake.
It's ironic isn't it that the Tax Year and the empty tomb come so close together. Maybe it's appropriate. Don't they say that the only two certainties in life are death and taxes? Knowing God, he may speak through something as common as the second to give you the answer for the first.

The Final Journey

All the Gospel writers agree, a day came when Jesus would make his final journey to Jerusalem. For Matthew it's the first and last time we will see Jesus in the capital city. For John it's the last of his regular, faithful journeys to fulfil his duties as a Jew. Whichever gospel you read, one thing is clear Jesus knew what to expect and he knew how things were going to turn out. Several times he warned those closest to him that he would be betrayed into the hands of the religious leaders. Leaders who ought to have recognised him as Messiah, but who preferred to call him a charlatan, a trickster, not the real thing.

Strange really, when you consider what he'd been doing for the last three years. Healing the sick, setting free those who had become oppressed and possessed by evil spirits. He'd even fulfilled their signs of the Messiah—raising a dead man, healing a man born blind and curing the leper. But still they couldn't accept him. How true John's words: He was in the world, and though the world was made through him, the world did not recognise him.

But still they, like many since, missed the signs. They asked, sometimes they even demanded that he show them a sign to prove his credentials. But the truth was they didn't want to believe. A country preacher from Galilee wasn't going to upset the apple cart of the well trained theologians of the capital city. They knew what Messiah would do, and Jesus wasn't doing it, at least he wasn't doing it their way.

And so he had to go. They'd been plotting for a long time, almost since the beginning when he first broke their rules and performed a miracle on the Sabbath. But the truth was that no matter how much they plotted and schemed. No matter how much they bribed witnesses, or even paid off a traitor, Jesus was always destined to make his final journey to the cross.
Many men and women may be born for greatness, destined to lead countries or make great discovers or journey on great adventures. The destiny of Jesus was none of these. He never rose to high political office, although Isaiah said the government will be upon his shoulders. He never made a scientific breakthrough, although he was involved in the work of creation. And he never made a incredible journey, although he came down from heaven to the earth.

Jesus was born to die.

As we wait in the shadow of the cross, there is little to break the growing darkness except the sound of people. We can hear the soldiers as the mock and curse. We can hear those passing by asking questions, wondering and debating. We can hear the sound of women weeping. Above all this, we can hear the sound of the men who are dying. It’s not a pleasant thought, to consider the crucifixion, but ti is the reality of what was happening. Three men, cruelly exposed, judged and executed. As the hours pass the groans diminish until, with one final thrust of strength fighting against the pain, Jesus cries out, “It is finished.” “What is finished?” we cry in return, but Jesus does not answer. He draws his final breath.

The religious leaders thought they had finally rid themselves of this troublesome preacher and his message of forgiveness and reconciliation. Little did they know that the cross was the completion of God’s great plan not the end of some great dream. Two days later, on the third day, Jesus would rise from the dead. Suddenly it was far from over. Death couldn’t hold the Son of God, it still can’t.

The Final Inscription

Suppose for a moment that you had been asked to write the final inscription, the epitaph for the life of Jesus Christ. What would you write? Pilate had already upset the religious leaders by having the inscription "King of the Jews" written above the cross, and now they wanted you to come up with the words to put on his tomb. So what would you choose?

You'd have to be careful of course. It's probably more than your job's worth to upset the establishment, so you ask around, you have a think and come up with a short list.

Here lies Jesus of Nazareth, "He was trouble". At least that what the elders thought. They were deeply disturbed by almost everything he did. The problem was that he threatened their position, he disrupted their power. Until he came along the people accepted their authority as the only authority when it came to religious questions and practice. But now here was this country preacher from Nazareth, teaching all sorts of new things, making all sorts of new claims, backing it all up with all sorts of miracles, and doing it with an authority they could never muster.

To the religious leaders, Jesus certainly was trouble.

Here lies Jesus of Nazareth, "An enigma". One of the problems we all seem to have with Jesus is trying to understand what he was really all about. He works miracles, but doesn't parade his ability like a side-show act or carnival performer. He doesn't line up the people he heals and delivers to act as character witnesses. In fact he goes the other way. Having healed them he simply sends them on their way. Having delivered them he says, "Go home". Having forgiven them he says, "Stop sinning". No big show, no big tent, just a simple, ordinary getting on with life, albeit a changed life.

Even in the last week of his life he performs only two miracles according to the Gospels: healing a severed ear in the garden did someone a favour but it didn't win him any friends; the withered fig tree made a point about empty religion, but it didn't draw a crowd. The things he said, and the things he did, the withdrawing from public view and the very public turning over of tables in the Temple. Turning water into wine at a wedding, yet drinking vinegar on the cross. Raising Lazarus from the dead, yet allowing himself to be crucified.

Truly, to some at least, Jesus was an enigma.

Here lies Jesus of Nazareth, "A Great Teacher". Most of the people would agree to that. They would walk miles across the countryside just to hear him speak. When he went into a synagogue they were often stunned into silence by his speaking. Was it because he was so eloquent or persuasive with his words? No. It was because of the authority with which they heard him speak. He actually sounded like he knew what he was talking about.

Of course the highly trained official teachers wouldn't like it. After all they were the ones who had spent years learning all the answers so that they didn't have to think and it certainly wasn't the job of the people to think for themselves. Relating to God was far too complicated a matter to leave to the common person to think about for themselves. They needed rules and regulations. The Law was no longer enough, they needed precedents and the wisdom of those who had dedicated their lives to teasing out the minute details. Some out-of-town, untrained carpenter was not their idea of authority.

But the people loved his stories, they were filled with things and people to whom they could relate. They saw the hollowness and emptiness of the religious system that sometimes was peddled in their direction. And Jesus, well he turned things on their heads, he seemed to be able to make sense of that which had confounded the theologians for centuries.

The problem is that he was far more than just a teacher. But maybe "Good Teacher" would have to do.

There is one other possible epitaph. It's simple and to the point and was said at the site of the tomb where Jesus had been placed after the execution on Friday. By the time these words are uttered it's Sunday and we've reached the "third day". The Sabbath is over and it's time to perform the proper burial rights for the one they called Rabbi. And so they set off, a small group of women intent on doing for their Lord what needed to be done. Confused? Probably. Sad? Very likely. Prepared for what they would find? I doubt it.

They talked about who might move the stone that had been placed across the entrance, only to discover it had already been moved. They came with spices and oils to anoint his body only to discover it wasn't there. Whatever you make of those events that first Easter morning, one thing is universally true. The tomb was empty.

Whether you believe that Jesus walked out having revived in the cool air, or whether you believe that someone came and took the body, or whether you believe that he was raised from the dead, the truth is the tomb was empty, the body was gone.  It was at this time that the words most fitting as an inscription were said, "He is not here, he has risen."

The Cursor or the Cross?

I'm working on the narrative for a special event we're having on Sunday. It's a sort of Easter celebration, but I'm trying to write something that will draw the listener into the big questions that Easter poses. Some time ago I wrote something similar and I'm just editing it at the moment. As I read the following i thought I'd share it with the wider world. If it's helpful in any way, please feel free to make use of it.

The Cursor or the Cross?

What I don't like about computers is that they do what I say not what I want. A computer computes. It doesn't think. It doesn't question. It doesn't smile, shake its monitor and say, "I know what you are tying to do. You didn't mean to hit the delete button, removing the very letters you wanted to keep. If you'd look at your screen you would see that. But since you won't and since you and I are good friends. and you leave me plugged in I'm going to give you what you need and not what you request."

Computers don't do that. Push a button and you get a response. Learn the system and get the printout. Blow the system and get ready for a long night. Computers are heartless creatures. Don't expect any compassion from your laptop. They don't call it a hard disk for nothing.

Some people have a computer theology when it comes to understanding God. Call it computerised Christianity. Push the right buttons, enter the right code, insert the correct data, and bingo, print out your own salvation. It's professional religion, you do your part and God has to do his. The problem is that God hates that sort of religion, How do we know? Jesus said so. He condemned religion by the rules, he refused to let a relationship with God be reduced to doing the "right thing".

Let me see if a simple exercise will clarify the point. How would you fill in this blank? A person is made right with God through—? How you complete the sentence is critical; it reflects the nature of your faith.

A person is made right with God through... Being good. Pay your taxes, do good, Don't drive too fast, or drink too much. Be kind and considerate. Good conduct, that's the secret.

A person is made right with God through  suffering. There's the answer. That's how to be made right with God. Suffer. Sleep on dirt floors. Stalk through dank jungles. Malaria. Poverty. Cold days, colder nights. Long vigils. Vows of chastity. Shaved heads and bare feet. The greater the pain the greater the saint.

No, no, no. The way to be made right with God is doctrine. Cross the t's and dot the i's. Dead-centre interpretation of the truth. Airtight theology which explains every mystery. The millennium simplified. Inspiration clarified. The role of women defined once for all. 

All have been taught, all have been tried, all have been demonstrated. But none are from God.

If we are saved by good works we don't need God. Weekly reminders of the do's and do nots will suffice. If by suffering, all we need is a whip and chain and a gospel of guilt. If we are saved through doctrine then let's study.

But be careful. For if you are saved by having the exact doctrine, one mistake could be fatal. If by good deeds, how will you know when you have done enough. And if we are saved by suffering how will you ever know how much suffering is required? That's the problem with computerised religion, it depends on you doing enough, knowing enough or suffering enough. It's all about what you do. 

It was the apostle Paul who first wrote the line: A person is made right with God through...
He got his training in front of a theological terminal. He was an up-and-coming religious technician trained in the ways of the Pharisees. He could answer the pickiest question and solve the most beguiling riddle. But the big question, the question Jesus asked the Pharisees in his final week, Paul couldn't answer that.

What was the question? After denouncing the hollow legalism of organised self-righteous religion, Jesus asked: "How will you escape God's judgement?"

The Pharisees had no answer. No one who tries to save themselves does–Dare you stand before God and ask him to save you because of your suffering or your sacrifice or your tears or your study? Nor do I. Nor did Paul. It took him decades to discover what he wrote in a single sentence. "A person is made right with God through faith."

How will you escape God's judgement? Through faith in God's sacrifice. It's not what you can do for him. It's what he has already done for you.