Maybe the most divisive religious statements are the ones that make claims about how and where God can be found. Disagreements among people of faith today remind us that disputes over God’s “accessibility” never go away. Jesus’ conflicts with the authorities of his day remind us that such controversies are nothing new.
Jesus and the Temple
Most historians conclude that the execution of Jesus was a consequence of — perhaps among other things — words he spoke criticizing the temple in Jerusalem and its leadership. It appears some sort of demonstration he performed in the temple precinct was also part of the equation.
There are persistent debates about why Jesus criticized the temple system. The gospels don’t give a clear picture of his specific reasons or their validity. Most likely his dissatisfaction stemmed from corruption he perceived among the priestly elites, who held significant civil authority as Roman puppets, and whose hypocrisy and disregard for the poor struck a raw nerve in the zealous preacher from Galilee. The gospels give no real evidence to conclude that Jesus rejected temples as a matter of principle, or that he regarded sacrificial practices as inappropriate.
He must have known, though, that temples are powerful things, because of the ideas they symbolize. Messing with them is usually dangerous.
The Jerusalem temple was hardly one sacred site among many for those who worshiped there early in the first century. Here was the place, they believed, where God was most present. The temple served as the focus of identity — religious, national, social, you name it — for many (but certainly not all) Jews of Jesus’ time, especially those influenced by the elite members of Jerusalem society. For some, it stood as the architectural and symbolic centerpiece of their most important city – a city that played a key role in their most cherished memories, and a location that would figure in a hoped-for future when God’s promises would be fully realized.
The theological character of the place lent it incredible significance. That is, the temple figured in discussions among Jesus’ compatriots concerning where God is to be found and how God is to be known. This was true even for those who had turned their back on the physical temple. For example, the community that left the Dead Sea Scrolls (a group sharply critical of the Jerusalem temple’s leadership) organized itself and its functions to express its expectation that God would provide a new, authentic, pure temple.
So, when Jesus arrives in town and speaks of the temple’s impending destruction, the gospels depict him trafficking in incredibly potent ideas. He offends powerful people, speaking to convictions deeply rooted in the cultural identities and religious values they affirm.
But What Did He Say?
Memories of Jesus’ words about the temple’s destruction differ across the four gospels. One reason for this has to do with how Jesus’ followers remembered his views toward the temple and deemed his attitudes significant as their world was changing around them.
By the time the gospels were written, the temple actually was in ruins, the climactic casualty of a devastating war between Rome and Jewish revolutionaries about forty years after Jesus’ death. The gospels, therefore, attempt to help their earliest readers understand the relevance of memories about Jesus’ outlook on the temple. Of course this relevance took on increased importance once the Romans reduced the temple to little more than rubble.
And so the particularities of the story about Jesus’ “temple act” in the Gospel according to John deserve special notice. Jesus disrupts commercial activity in the temple compound, similar to accounts in the other gospels. But then the gospel author quickly interprets Jesus’ words about the temple’s destruction:
“Jesus answered them, ‘Destroy this temple, and in three days I will raise it up.’” (verse 19, NRSV)
“But he was speaking of the temple of his body.” (verse 21, NRSV)
In John, then, Jesus doesn’t necessarily call for the destruction of the Jerusalem temple or imply it somehow would deserve its ruin. Rather, the author tells us, Jesus metaphorically refers to himself as a temple. Where will God be found? How will God be known? In a newly raised temple, Jesus promises: in his own resurrected body.
Is That Good News, Or Bad?
The gospel author’s interpretation suggests, then, that Jesus’ raised body became a site (or did the author mean the site?) of God’s presence — a place where God is encountered in the world. Not confined to a single point on a map, Jesus serves as the “place” where God is accessible.
This interpretation would have been good news to the first readers of John’s Gospel, who had embraced Jesus as God’s Messiah and who might otherwise have been unnerved by the Jerusalem temple’s recent decimation. God remains within people’s reach, just in a different place.
The interpretation also coheres well with the Gospel of John’s understanding of Jesus’ identity. He is “the Word” of God that “became flesh and lived among us” and “made God known” (John 1:14, 18, NRSV). Perhaps this is why John locates Jesus’ “temple act,” not in the final week of Jesus’ life (as the other gospels do), but near the beginning of Jesus’ public ministry: to illustrate what those preceding statements say about Jesus as the presence of God among us.
Christians need to tread very carefully here, for this understanding of Jesus as a new temple has led to grave problems in the history of Jewish-Christian relations. Christians have exploited the destruction of the Jerusalem temple in the year 70 as an excuse to denigrate or to issue a blanket condemnation of Judaism — in both its ancient and its modern forms. The criticisms Jesus levels in the gospels toward the temple and its leadership give no warrant for such a move.
John’s Gospel originated during a period of differing (and conflicting) interpretations about fundamental religious commitments. How does one commune with God when there is no temple edifice? Christians understood Jesus as fulfilling the principal functions the temple was once said to perform. Those who would come to establish rabbinic Judaism (the foundation of the Judaism practiced today) were moving in different directions. Many of them had been ambivalent about the temple prior to its destruction, anyway. The point is: the destruction of the temple hardly made it easier for people to find common ground about the questions of how and where God can be found.
How Public Is God?
For Christians, the idea of God becoming accessible through the resurrected Jesus has a powerful (and empowering) consequence: God’s presence becomes pervasive and extremely public.
Many Christian traditions reject the notion of firm distinctions separating “sacred” and “secular” things. A hallowed temple is unnecessary, because God’s presence, God’s promises, and our hopes for God’s future aren’t located in a specific site. Jesus, who now dwells among his people (and beyond), makes God accessible and extends God’s presence into all aspects of our lives. Everything therefore has potential to be “sacred,” meaning every dimension of daily living may become a place for encountering God.
No wonder, then, that some Christians want to be very public about their views concerning God’s presence in life, including their political life.
Consider, for example, the ways in which religious faith has (again) become a divisive topic in the presidential election season. Part of this is just base pandering by politicians. But another part of it connects to this idea: if God permeates all aspects of my life, shouldn’t my vote be informed by my understanding of who God is and how God matters?
Recent comments by some candidates have prompted a coalition of religious groups to issue a statement of principles. Their document entreats politicians to avoid appealing to voters along religious lines and to reject the inclination to use religious beliefs as a measure of any candidate’s qualifications.
Watch the Video: Statement of Principles
Thirteen faith organizations recently joined the Anti-Defamation League in a statement that asks candidates to refrain from encouraging religious bias or stereotypes, and to conduct their campaigns without using religion to appeal to certain voting blocs. For candidates, the “interfaith statement of principles” says, should feel comfortable explaining their religious convictions to voters, but “there is a point where an emphasis on religion in a political campaign becomes inappropriate and even unsettling.”
For some Christians, the radical accessibility of God in all arenas of life is consistent with an expectation that politicians wear their religious commitments on their sleeves.
For other Christians, membership in a pluralistic society demands exercising more humility and tolerance. After all, too much confidence in delineating exactly where and how God can be known may quickly lead people into the kinds of abuses and hypocrisy Jesus decried in the ruling figures of his day.
Talking about how God is accessible to us may always be controversial. This doesn’t mean we should never do it with those who may disagree with our views. But hostility, smugness, and intimidation can’t be part of the exchange.
Because I’m not sure that God intends to be found in those places.
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