MONDAY OF HOLY WEEK

Reading: Mark 11,1-26

In chapter 11 of St. Mark’s gospel, we’ve come to the last stage of the journey. There’d been the time teaching, preaching, showing by example, his miracles making love real and present. Now, comes Jerusalem.

This was not a sudden or reckless decision of Jesus. His whole life had been building up to this point. The people were looking for a king who would shatter, and smash and destroy and make them the conquerers of the world. Jesus knew it, and he came simply, humbly, into Jerusalem, riding a donkey. When he rode in that day, he claimed to be a king, but a King of Peace, a King of Forgiveness, a King of Love. His action was a contradiction of everything that was hoped for and expected by the masses of people.

One of the most dangerous things anyone can do, is to go to people and tell them that all their accepted ideas are wrong. Anyone who tries to remove a people’s hopes and dreams, even if they are misguided, is in for trouble. But that’s what Jesus is doing. As he rides into Jerusalem, Jesus is making a last appeal of love.

Then this story of a fig tree, divided into two parts with the cleansing of the temple in between. It’s one of the most difficult stories in the entire gospel because it just doesn’t seem real or true. It’s the kind of story that is told of other wonder-workers, but never of Jesus. Jesus had always refused to use his miraculous powers for his own sake. He wouldn’t turn stones into bread. He would not use his miraculous powers to escape from his enemies. He never used his power for his own sake. And yet we have this story.

Mark even acknowledges that it’s not the season for figs and so Jesus’ action seems unreasonable and unjust! But, if we take this story as an enacted parable, then it’s prophetic, symbolic, dramatic actions may be able teach us something.

First, Jesus is challenging promises, without fulfillment. The leaves on the treat might promise fruit, but there was no fruit there. The whole history of the people of God was preparing for the coming of God’s chosen one. The whole promise of their national record was that when the chosen one came, they would be so eager to receive him. But when Jesus did come, that promise was tragically unfulfilled. Sometimes as true today as it was 2000 years ago.

Second, this is the challenge of profession without practice, words but no action. The whole cry of the New Testament is that we can be known by the fruits of our lives. “You will know them by their fruits” (Matthew 7,16). “Bear fruits worthy of repentance” (Luke 3,8). “It is not the one who piously says ‘Lord! Lord!’ who will enter into the kingdom, but the one who does God’s will” (Matthew 7,21).

Unless our faith makes us better people, makes our homes happier, makes life better and easier for those with whom we are brought in contact, it is not faith at all. We cannot claim to be followers of Jesus Christ, and remain entirely unlike the Master whom we profess to follow and love. The whole challenge of this fig tree is that uselessness, invites disaster.

We can understand better this cleansing of the temple if in our heads we understand the layout of this great structure. The temple covered the top of Mount Zion and was over 12 hectares in size. It was surrounded by great walls almost 400 meters in length. The outer court was the Court of Gentiles, into which anyone might come. The next was the Court of Women, and then the Court of Israelites, and the innermost was the Court of Priests. The incident in the gospel this evening took place in the court of the Gentiles.

But little by little, the Court of the Gentiles, a part of the Temple, had been almost entirely secularized. It had been meant for a place of prayer and preparation, but by the time of Jesus, there was a completely commercialized atmosphere of buying and selling which made prayer and meditation impossible. And even worse there was the sheer exploitation of the pilgrims who had come to the temple.

You see every Jew had to pay a temple tax, about two days’ wages for a working person. The tax had to be paid in a particular coinage. When the pilgrims came with all kinds of foreign money, they went to an exchange and often had to pay several other “fees.” Doves were a part of the sacrificial system, but the dove had to be without blemish. Now, doves could be bought cheaply outside the walls, but the Temple inspectors would be sure to find something wrong with them, so worshipers were advised to buy them in Temple stalls, at prices 10-15 times greater.

Jesus was angry at the exploitation of the pilgrims, the authorities treating them not as worshipers, not even human beings, but things to be exploited for their own ends. The exploitation of one human being by another always provokes the wrath of God, but even more so when it is made under the cloak of religion.

Jesus was angry at the desecration of God’s holy place. The sense of the presence of God in the House of God, had been lost.

And finally, Jesus quotes the prophet Isaiah, “My house shall be called a house of prayer for all peoples.” (Isaiah 56,7) Yet there were so many walls and so many barriers. It may well be that Jesus wanted to remind them, and us, that God loved not only one people or one faith, but God loves, the world. You see, Jesus was getting ready to teach us about a new Temple, the temple of his body. The old Temple is being cleansed.

And then we conclude with three rules for prayer, good guidelines for this week we call holy.

The phrase about removing mountains was a very common Jewish phrase. It was a regular vivid phrase for removing difficulties. It was especially used of wise teachers. A good teacher who could remove the difficulties or obstacles which his learners encountered was called a “mountain remover.” Prayer is a power which can solve any problem, remove any mountain, and make us able to deal with any difficulty. Sounds simple, but, it involves two things:

First, prayer must be made in faith. We must be willing to openly, honestly, humbly, come before God. Not always easy. Sometimes our problems are that we want to find a way to do something we should not even think of doing, being disciples of Jesus. Second, its a very common thing to ask for people to ask for advice when all they really want is approval for some action, they’re already determined to take. It’s useless to go to God for guidance, unless we are really willing to listen, change, be transformed, and act, on God’s will.

Second, prayer must be filled with expectation. It’s a universal fact that if you try something, and you BELIEVE you will succeed, you will often will. When we pray, it must always be bursting with faith-filled hope and expectation. God wants more for us than we can even imagine.

And third, prayer must be of love. The prayers of bitter, angry people cannot penetrate the wall of their own bitterness. If we are to speak with God, there must be a bond. There can never be any intimacy between two people who have nothing in common. The principle of God is love. God is love. If the ruling principle in our hearts is bitterness, anger, resentment, we have erected a barrier between ourselves and God. We first must ask the Lord to cleanse our hearts. Then we can speak to God, and God can speak to us, and the temples of our lives will be transformed and renewed.

Second Chances

Today this gospel gives us a story of classic human behavior, and an essential lesson in a spirituality of repentance and forgiveness. The image of these Scribes and the Pharisees standing there with their fingers pointing and their fists full of stones is so very chilling. So quickly, so easily, so publicly they point and accuse, they blame and they shame.

Then all of a sudden, they are gone. Sometimes I think the meeting of the Scribes and Pharisees with Jesus is even more important than Jesus encounter with the woman. Certainly, we miss so much of this gospel if we only reflect upon Jesus or only identify with the woman in the story: she is not the only sinner St. John puts before us today.

Proclaiming this gospel and pondering its truth in the midst of Lent leads us to look at ourselves, not someone else. And that is the problem with these Scribes and Pharisees, and it is the challenge Jesus puts right in front of them!

"Look at yourselves", he suggests, "Don't be pointing your fingers of accusation and blame at another." The God of mercy calls us to drop the stones we are so willing and so readily throw at each another, and use these remaining Lenten days for our own repentance and our own forgiveness.

There is something always troubling about this story. Adultery is a sin committed by two people. The ancient law prescribes that both should be put to death. While the words of Jesus to the woman give us a strong focus on God's mercy, the absence of the other party to this sin allows us to shift our attention to the Scribes and Pharisees.

This is another of many confrontation stories between Jesus and these Scribes and Pharisees. He confronts a kind of Scribe and Pharisee that can exist in any religious group or business, or community—those people who are so absolutely certain that they are right, and that the truth begins and ends with them. The religious leaders in this gospel are so certain Jesus is not from God, that to get evidence against him they are willing to use a woman, publicly shame her, perhaps protect her male partner, and forget that they themselves are sinners.

Unlike them, Jesus condemns no one, neither the woman nor the Scribes and Pharisees. Instead, by his silence, he creates some space for them to see themselves, and give them room for self-recognition. An old legend, that I like, says that when Jesus bent down and began writing, he was writing the sins of all the crowd who were accusing this woman.

Somewhere in this story, we must find ourselves: either in the one who got away, the one who knows the mercy and compassion of God, or the ones who point and accuse, failing to recognize, in spite of all the signs, the presence of the God who has come to set them free. Or perhaps we can begin to find ourselves in the Holy One who is by his gentleness, the very healing, loving, forgiving presence of God.

However it works, we cannot just stand outside the gospel story and be mere spectators or observers. To do only this, would miss the opportunity for conversion. Who are you most like in the Gospel today? The woman caught? The judgmental, accusing Pharisees? The leering crowd?

Use this as the opportunity to become more like Jesus, the Source of Truth and Compassion and Forgiveness.

Wherever Jesus went, he was accompanied by some not-so-desirable followers: tax-collectors, lepers, sinners, men and women with some rather questionable histories and reputations. And to everyone's surprise, and even disgust, Jesus welcomed them, he ate with them. Many grumbled and complained about it. How can he be “holy” and “righteous” and do this? And Jesus responds with some incredible parables.

Today we read from chapter 15 in Luke’s Gospel. This chapter actually has three stories where the central figure associates with, even seeks out, the lost, the insignificant, the forgotten. In the first story, a shepherd desperately searches, until the one lost lamb is found. In another story, a woman turns over everything in her house, to find one small coin. And today’s gospel, a father forgives and brings his lost son back into the family. Each of these characters represents GOD. And, through them, we come to know a bit more about God, and experience God's persistence and caring. We come to know how consistently and passionately God wants each one of us.

As I said last week, Lent is a time we examine our lives. And the readings and liturgies are frequently addressing themes of repentance and forgiveness. Certainly, we need to look at how I forgive others. But, the parable of the two sons and their father should raise a question in our minds as we gather around this Eucharistic table: Do I accept God as One who forgives me, personally?

Forgiving, being forgiven, reaching out to another who as hurt us, or who we've hurt, brings us together, puts our differences into perspective and makes us whole again (communion: common union). I think most of us here in some way have experienced both forgiveness and alienation. That's what the Gospel is talking about today.

But, perhaps, most important is this idea that a MEAL is central to being reconciled. The first instinct of the father, once he sees his son, is to have a meal, a meal like we share here each Sunday. That's one of the reasons the church gives us this gospel during Lent: to remind us that EUCHARIST is the primary sacrament of forgiveness. Each of us knows the pain of alienation--the times we sin, we separate ourselves from the love of God. And like the father in this parable, when this happens, our God sees us, runs up to us, and invites us to a meal to be reconciled. Many of us understand what it's like to be that younger, prodigal son. We know our shortcomings and failures, and yet God keeps asking us, come back. It is incredible how much God loves us.

But, I think if we examine this gospel, many of us also identify with the older brother. I understand his hurt, disappointment, anger, questions. This younger brother was a scoundrel! The older brother was a good guy, does his work, is loyal, trustworthy. But you see, God does not measure sins, only the willingness to repent. God constantly welcomes us back no matter where we have been, or what we have done.

We are, all of us, welcomed home to God's house this Lent. But will you accept this invitation? Whether you are like the older, obedient son, or the younger prodigal son, will you allow the Lord to meet you, greet you, and throw his arms around you, and feed you?

Our story today is both happy and sad. One son has been reconciled, forgiven. He eats. The other son remains distant, alienated, refuses to eat. Which one are you?