So, when I was in first grade, my teacher, Miss Sirus, began class by laying down the law. She had a list of rules that she taped up on one wall. These were the things you had to do in her class, those rules you must obey. She also taped, on the facing wall, a list of consequences. The bad, baaaad things that would happen when you inevitably broke the rules.
Essentially, it went like this. Step One: if you broke one of the rules, Miss Sirus would write your name in big, giant letters on the blackboard for everyone in the class to see. Step Two: if you broke a rule a second time, she would put a check mark by your name. Step Three: if you broke a rule a third time, you earned a second check mark, and she made you carry a note home to your parents, a note which she read to the class first, so they all knew what was about to happen to you.
I remember seeing my name on the blackboard a few times, and I may have gotten a check mark once or twice, I don't remember. But I do know I never had to take home a note. At least not that year.
Nowadays, I guess teachers do things differently. Instead of punishments, you get rewards. Your personal star moves up the colors of the rainbow every time you do something good. Maybe kids are given coupons to redeem at the end of the day for cool stuff like new pencils, or a cool book, or something. Or something like “Brag Tags,” little tags on a chain that you can wear around your neck that day that says you were kind, or polite, or neat, or some such.
I suppose positive reward is the better way to go, but I also know that over five decades on, I still remember Miss Sirus and that list of rules.
And we still, several millennia on, remember the Ten Commandments. They are the backbone of Judiasm. They are the foundation of Western Civilization. Our criminal justice system is based on them. For all their sounding like just a list of rules, these commandments are a pretty big deal all told. Heck, even non-believers could probably tick off a commandment or two with very little difficulty.
But part of me wonders if they still MEAN what they did. Because when Moses first carried them down the mountain, these were more than just rules, more than just the beginning of a criminal code. These were all about God and God's relationship with a group of scared, confused ex-slaves, just trying to stay alive.
In fact, if you pay close attention, that first commandment isn't much of a commandment at all. It's more of a reminder to the Chosen of God as to how they were chosen and who did the choosing. The next few lay out how best to be in relationship with God, and then the last ones are how to be in relationship with each other. All the way back then, y'all, it was ever the same: Love God, and love your neighbor. And it would be easy enough to just stop there.
But perhaps there's something more. You see, in Judaism, the Ten Commandments have another name: eseret ha-devarim. The Ten Words or just The Words. Words, uttered by God. Ten words that sum up the whole of holy relationship, of divine worship, of loving community.
Ten Words. The Word of God.
This is not a foreign concept to us Christians, at least it shouldn't be. As we begin our journey through the end of Jesus life, I was reminded of how the journey began, well, back in the beginning. On Christmas Day. “In the beginning was...the Word. And the Word was with God, and the Word was God”
I can't help but think there's a connection there. Jesus is the embodiment of eseret ha-devarim. Jesus is the embodiment of the Ten Commandments, the Ten Words. Jesus is the center point of all our relationships, with God and with each other. Jesus is there.
In the gospel reading, we have that familiar story of Jesus turning out the moneychangers from the Temple. Things had perhaps gotten a little out of hand in the religion business. Layer upon layer of rules and policies had begun to weigh things down. Binders filled with procedures. Scrolls of rubrics. Little illustrations posted on the walls to tell the acolytes were to stand, when the next service was, make sure your shofar is on mute...those sorts of things.
And Jesus had just about had it. Where was loving God? Where was loving your neighbor? Why have you forgotten? And out they go: moneychangers, animals, coins...everything. Out it goes. And all that's left is the temple, the place where God and God's chosen meet.
But then the gospel takes a turn, and we are talking in symbolic terms. Jesus talking about destroying the temple and rebuilding it in three days. But we know, don't we? We know he's not talking about the TEMPLE. He's talking about his body. His crucifixion. His resurrection. And this makes me wonder. If this is symbolic, couldn't the part about the moneychangers be symbolic, too?
The gospel reading is an accounting of an actual act of Jesus, to be sure. Versions in all four gospels attest to that. But I can't help but wonder if this has more to do with the power of Jesus in our lives. More to do with the power of the Holy Spirit to turn our bodies into temples honoring God. And more to do with how letting Jesus in cleans the temple out. Getting rid of the clutter, the baggage, the sin in our lives. Cleaning out the temple so that all that is left is holy, divine, life-giving relationship...with God and with our neighbor. The Ten Words carved in our hearts.
And as we bring that eternal Word into our lives, as we bring Jesus into our lives, our lives become the place where the Word and the Words reside, a temple where God's love meets us and rushes out into the world.
Now it's easy to get our temple clean, be filled with zeal, and run out and start doing the Lord's work. For a while. And it's also easy to clutter it up again...and again, and again. And I guess that's why this story is read during Lent, during this season of penitence. So that we can see Jesus clean that temple again and again and again. Because with Jesus, the Word that is God, the clutter can always be forgiven. But the contrite temple will always stand.
Now, I reckon Miss Sirus is dead by now. As I recall, my child brain thought she was pretty old when she was my teacher. And maybe she didn't know the most modern techniques in teaching. But I remember this. At the end of every day, she erased her blackboard. We were forgiven. And we left with our friends to be with our families. And we said our prayers at night. And we started fresh the next day.
Every time.