Holy Week begins with disruption

by Matthew D. Love, instructor
Harding School of Theology 

“And they came to Jerusalem. And Jesus entered the temple and began to drive out those who sold and those who bought in the temple, and he overturned the tables of the moneychangers and the seats of those who sold pigeons. And he would not allow anyone to carry anything through the temple. And he was teaching them and saying to them, “Is it not written, ‘My house shall be called a house of prayer for all the nations’? But you have made it a den of robbers.” (Mark 11:15–17)

Holy Week misunderstood tempts us to turn inward and away from the world. Reflecting on Jesus’ last days, our imaginations may gravitate toward images that settle us into serene contemplation: We see the young king riding into Jerusalem, poised quietly atop a borrowed beast of burden; we envision the gentle servant in the upper room, towel-wrapped and stooping, washing the disciples’ feet; we picture a composed martyr before a howling mob on trial but yielded and silent “like a lamb that is led to the slaughter” (Isa 53:7). These images may lead us into library-like quietness and Sunday-morning introspection. If so, we need to be reminded of a scene that disrupts these visions like a bull in a china shop. 

The first visit Jesus pays in Jerusalem is to the Temple, the historic dwelling of God among the people of Israel, and this visitation is anything but polite. We see him slowing his ride to a stop and swinging his leg to one side. Hopping down, he brushes the dust and animal hair off his thighs. Now, he strides through the crowd, treading palm branches as he goes, beelining for the Temple. What will he do? Will he wait in line to speak with a priest? Maybe he will preach a sermon, or perhaps breathe in the grandeur of the moment. 

Jesus causes a scene. He drives out (literally, “casts out” like demons) those who sold for profit and overturns the tables of moneychangers. People shouting, animals running, coins clanging on the stone. Imagine the chaos! Gone from this scene is the humble donkey rider, the gentle foot-washer or the passive cross-bearer. Here we have a radically different picture: the Lord on fire, wild and furious, full of authority and command. His disruption is not without purpose. What is Jesus doing? He is cleansing the temple. With one week left to live, Jesus does not only teach, serve or share a meal with his friends. He confronts, challenges and calls his people to righteousness. 

Recently, in her book By the Word Worked, Fleming Rutledge wrote about the tension between the “Jesus kerygma” and the “Christ kerygma” (“kerygma” means “message” as in, what the early church preached). Many today want Jesus without the Christ. That is, we want the Jesus of (some of) the Gospel stories, not the Christ of (say) Paul’s preaching. We want the gentle and lowly brother but not the king. We prefer one who shares table with sinners and heals people who are sick. This Jesus quietly inspires us by his keep-to-himself sacrifice for others. What we do not want, though, is one who reigns. We desire less he who lays claim to the church, as well as my life and yours. We prefer “decently and in order” even if it is an order we created that harms others and protects a status quo that serves only ourselves. The scene in the Temple offers a more complete vision of Christ: no helpless sheep this time, but a leather-skinned shepherd steeling himself against all forms of evil and harm. Here is the king who resists wickedness and injustice even unto the end. 

Holy week may tempt us to turn inward, but we must not lose sight of this fuller picture of Jesus Christ as one consumed by zeal for the house of the Lord. As long as there is sin in the church and injustice in the world, Christians cannot recuse ourselves through ancient calendar rituals or hide the gospel inside our hearts. The church must meet Jesus wherever he is, including here, in the house of the Lord, driving out all that does not belong, overturning complacent abuses of the faith, making clean the dwelling of God. 

Holy week begins with disruption. The church is called to repentance. We are confronted by the Christ who will not let evil slide or allow us to make church about ourselves.