Jerusalem, Jerusalem—people from all over were eager to come to Jerusalem: the city of David, vital heart of Jewish culture and learning, the site of the Temple.  There was a general sense that to be at the Temple was to be as near to the heart of God as this earth allowed.

And Jesus, walking with his disciples, came into Jerusalem and went up to the Temple.  How elated the disciples must have been!  There they all were, at last, together, so close to God.  Jesus, if you’ll recall, had entered Jerusalem in a rather peculiar way: before entering through the city gates, he had seen a leafy fig tree.  That tree, however, with all its outward appearance of fruitfulness, was destitute of fruit, and Jesus cursed it.  Jesus was not given to cursing: I can’t actually recall another instance in his time on earth when Jesus cursed anything.  Jesus didn’t come to curse!

Jesus enters Jerusalem in disappointment.  May he never come to his churches that way!  We can hardly bear the thought of disappointing anyone: friends, children, parents, spouse—but to disappoint Christ?  Truth be told, we have all disappointed Jesus; we have all disappointed God.  That’s why Jesus comes, not to curse, but to do something about God’s disappointment, do something blessed.  To affirm the glory of His Name, God chooses to act for our salvation.

Beloved, without Jesus, all anyone can be to God is a disappointment.  And with Jesus?

Jesus enters Jerusalem in disappointment.  He goes up to the Temple.  The situation does not improve.  He “entered the temple courts and began driving out those who were buying and selling there” (11:15).  The Temple was based on the plan of the Tabernacle in the wilderness: the tent used as the place for worship by the Israelites in the days of Moses.  The entire Tabernacle area was curtained off on all four sides.  At one end was the tent of the presence of the Lord, which was itself divided.  Only priests were allowed to go inside the tent.  Inside the tent, there was an innermost part, where the ark of the covenant was set.  Into that innermost place only the high priest could go, only once a year.  The mystery of holiness—restricted access.

That same plan of restricted access was the principle applied in designing the Temple complex in Jerusalem.  On the Temple mount was the Temple building itself, still divided into inner and innermost rooms.  There was a walled courtyard around the Temple building.  This inner courtyard was also divided in two.  Only Jews were allowed in this inner courtyard.  Outside this walled-off area was an even larger walled area, the outer courtyard, known as the Court of the Gentiles.  Estimates are that it was nearly two-and-a-half football fields square, able to hold as many as 75,000 people: huge.  As the name implies, Gentiles were permitted in this area of the Temple complex, but only this outer area: Paul will later get into serious trouble when he is falsely accused of bringing a Gentile into the inner area of the Temple, which was absolutely forbidden (Acts 21:27-30).

Restricted access, a principle of exclusion—we might be able to begin to see how this might cause Jesus some concern.  Now there is a right way and a wrong way to attempt to come before God, as Jesus also knows.  The Temple was built understanding that those who were not Jews by birth would also come to worship God.  This entering in of the Gentiles was not unknown to the Jews, the prophets had foretold it, but Jewish religion was very much about prohibitions, the law walling off believers from the world and other peoples, protecting and preserving the Jews for God.  One incidental result was that it became very difficult for those outside the walls to enter in.  Sometimes, when you’ve got a good thing, the last thing you want is to bring some outsider into it.  Just you, me, and this good thing, you see, and none of them to mess it up!  So the Jews put up with the Court of the Gentiles, even if they weren’t completely happy that there was such a place, such an accommodation, such an invitation for outsiders to come and seek and be in the presence of Israel’s God to praise Him.

This lack of enthusiasm expressed itself in typical ways: it’s pastor and Bible student William Barclay who tells us that, “[b]it by bit the Court of the Gentiles had become almost entirely secularised [sic].”[1]  How so?  We read how Jesus, at the Temple, “began driving out those who were buying and selling there” and “overturned the tables of the money changers and the benches of those selling doves” (11:15).  Note that he was driving out the buyers as well as the sellers—all those engaged in Temple commerce, Temple business.  All this business was occurring in the outer courtyard, the Court of the Gentiles.

You know, if there were only a few vendors, would that really be so bad?  They were offering necessary services, after all.  But it wasn’t just a few: if you can believe it, nearly one million people came to the Temple every year, almost all of them to make some offering—and remember, animals were common offerings at the Temple.  That’s high demand.  Now, what does high demand ordinarily do to price?  It’s also inflexible demand—there at the Temple, you’ve got to have your offering, so, you’ve got to pay what’s being charged.  All this Temple business had to go on somewhere, of course; over time, the Court of the Gentiles had become the most convenient place.  When we make convenience and human custom the guiding principles for organizing our worship and religious practice, beware.

In former days in Presbyterian churches, it wasn’t uncommon for the service to begin with these words, sung or said: “the Lord is in His holy Temple, let all the earth keep silence before Him” (Hab 2:20).  It has been customary to observe a reverent, prayerful silence in church prior to worship, though not every congregation manages to maintain that, or cares to.  Some come to church several minutes before worship for that holy hush.  Now, imagine if, here at Bethel, we had a coffee bar, oh, not in the worship space, but not exactly not in the worship space, say just inside the doors: a Starbucks kind of thing.  Smooth jazz, warm aromas, hissing frothers, chatting, placing orders and calling out the orders that were ready, lines, mini vanilla scones—yum!  That atmosphere is fine, for Starbucks, but for church?  You know, in our little entry area, the coffee crowd could make it a little hard to get through to the worship space.  If it’s going to be that crowded, that difficult to get in, and that noisy . . . maybe it’s better just not to go.  Lord help us!  We don’t need additional reasons to skip church!

Multiply that press of people and cacophony of commerce on a scale of thousands and you have the Court of the Gentiles at the Temple in Jerusalem as Jesus found it.

Jesus is not happy, he’s disappointed, by anything that prevents those seeking God from being able to come to Him and worship Him.  We don’t typically think of church as being the only way, the only place to access to God, but let us strive to ensure that church, what we do here and how we do it, is never an obstacle to access to God.

There in Jerusalem, worshippers were required to pay their annual temple tax, which went to maintain the Temple and those who served there.  The tax had to be paid in an acceptable currency, so those coming from a great distance would need to exchange the money they brought with them for money acceptable to pay the tax.  Now, you know there’s such a thing as an exchange rate: although the dollar isn’t as robust as it has been, $1 is still worth more than one peso, or even one Canadian dollar.  So there’s that.  If you’ve ever used one of those airport exchange kiosks, you also know there is a consideration for the service, just a nominal fee.  There at the Temple, with the various fees, surcharges, considerations, and so forth, each worshipper would be looking at a worship bill about the equivalent of two day’s-worth of their salary; in today’s terms, around $400.  It’s not hard to see how all this could begin to look, and feel, like a pay to pray business.

So there was also that to interrupt the holy hush and distract the praiseworthy desire to worship in God’s presence in Spirit and truth.

Then there was the sacrifice.  Animals were quite typical: goats, doves, some calves, occasionally a bull, but most of all lambs.  You who raise and keep livestock know there’s cost involved.  The impulse, naturally, would have been to bring your own to the Temple—some special offering you had a hand in from birth to this moment.  At the Temple, there were inspectors: the law specified, God had said very clearly, that a blemished animal was not acceptable for sacrifice—this also because of the very natural impulse to keep the healthiest animals for yourself and to let the sacrificial flames have those that weren’t going to be good breeders anyway.  God wants our best: He’s the one who gives it to us.  What are we willing to give Him in return?  What are we willing to let God have?  God is so generous toward us; sometimes, we can be so stingy toward God.

As you can guess, those Temple inspectors someway always managed to find that the animals of those coming from a distance had some disqualifying flaw.  The fortuitous solution was already there, though: there were plenty of Temple-authorized vendors of sacrificial animals, all of which were guaranteed to have passed inspection: genuine USDA Prime.  As you can also imagine, having purchased USDA Prime at some point, it can be pricey.  By some accounts, the Temple mark-up, especially around the big festivals, like Passover when Jesus was there, could be as high as nineteen times the price outside the Temple and outside Jerusalem.  That $14 New York strip just jumped to $247.  On top of your $400 tax.  It’s not hard to see how all this could begin to look, and feel, like a pay to pray business.  At a certain point, you’ve got to ask: who can afford to worship?

Restricted access and a principle of exclusion.  Not every worshipper came to offer animal sacrifice.  Gentiles mostly came just to be there, there in the presence of God, and to pray.  The economy of the Temple, however, the Temple business, had become a considerable obstacle to worshiping God.

Now, it isn’t that Jesus objected to the business of exchanging money or buying and selling animals for sacrifice.  It isn’t that Jesus objected, even, to profit.  Jesus is not anti-business.  Jesus is not anti-profit.  He is anti-exploitation—of worshiper, God, and Temple.  He is pro-prayer.  John out baptizing in the Jordan had called anyone who would hear to clear the way.  Jesus comes to clear all obstacles between God and man.  He wants a place of worship where all the focus is on worship rather than the business of worship.

We read that Jesus also “would not allow anyone to carry merchandise through the temple courts” (11:16).  We might reasonably conclude this had something to do with the buying and selling going on inside the Temple, but there’s more to it.  By some accounts, the location of the Temple at the heart of the city made it ideal as a shortcut from one part of town to another.  It would be such a bother, after all, to have to take the long way around the Temple Mount, every time.  There in the outer court were not just people coming to worship and vendors in the business of providing what was required for the Temple business: the outer court, the Court of the Gentiles, had also become, by convenience and custom, a thoroughfare for through traffic.[2]

Loud, bustling, noises, animals, dust, people passing through going about their daily business—sounds like church, right?  That was the Temple business.  That’s just how it was, and who thought anything about it?  “And as he taught them, he said, ‘Is it not written: “My house will be called a house of prayer for all nations”?  But you have made it “a den of robbers”’” (11:17).  Jesus quotes the prophets there in the Temple.  As you read the Bible, you’ll find that the one place the prophets were least welcome was the Temple.  The first part, “a house of prayer for all nations,” comes from Isaiah.  God declares, regarding the foreigners who come to Him to love and serve Him, “Even those I will bring to My holy mountain and make them joyful in my house of prayer [. . . .] For My house will be called a house of prayer for all the peoples” (Is 56:7 NASB).  But the very nature of the Temple business as it had been allowed to develop made it devilish hard for any foreigner to be in the Court of the Gentiles, let alone experience any silent wonder, absorbed in awe and prayer.  In the clamor and hustle of the Temple business, the call of God to the peoples had gotten pushed to the side.

And who oversaw the Temple business?  The Temple officials, the priests, who, I’ll add, were a very select, wealthy group of men.  Those who have wealth take a very natural interest in maintaining and perhaps increasing that wealth.  It’s not so easy for everyone to save up $600, life and the things that come up being how they are.  And scraping that much together is something of an achievement, something to be kind of proud of because of hard choices and sacrifices.  And I don’t doubt that nearly all who came to worship at the Temple were more than happy to make their offering—the priests banked on it.  A million worshipers, millions in offerings.  And who accounted for it all?  Who made sure all that income was being applied as it was supposed to be?  And who oversaw that the accounting was proper and in order?

There was a tension, then, between the business of the Temple and the Temple business, between, on the one hand, why people came, why the Temple existed and, on the other, what was needed to provide the place and the means of worship.  It’s not really clear that the priests, elders, or teachers of the Law saw any problem.  The Temple existed as a place for openness before God, access to God, who invited everyone to come, to know Him and receive His blessing.  God is not really happy with anything, or anyone, hindering that, from whatever motive, custom, bias, habit, or thoughtlessness.

[1] William Barclay.  Gospel of Mark.  Daily Study Bible.  Philadelphia: Westminster P, 1975.  273.

[2] See Barclay, 274.