The
Ten Commandments are for us a foundational document. They hint at a deep
connection to history. Our church has an historic decoration of the two tables
of the law. One side has the laws that show us how to be in relationship with
God. The other side shows us how to be in relationship with each other. Over
the centuries, the laws have become a symbol – an icon. These two tables of
laws are all part of our past; our patriotic roots, our historic place, our
first moral code in fold letters.
I
wonder if this is God’s intent. Our use of God’s law sometimes feels to me like
the signs you might find in a company break room. “Clean up after yourself.” “Don’t leave anything in the
refrigerator.” “Employees must wash hands before returning to work.” No one
wants to spend anytime in a place like that. We leave for a better job as fast
as we can.
We’d
much rather belong to organizations that respect us and trust that we will
respect and honor one another. Think about the groups to which you belong to
which you rush to return. It might be your job, or a team, or your family, or
this church. You can’t wait to see your friends. You can’t wait to catch up,
“How have you been? I haven’t seen you all week.” The difference is that we are
bound by mutual regard and love for each other. In the best communities, we
don’t need rules. We want to look out for the other members. We want what’s
best for them and we know that they want what’s best for us.
I
believe that this is the choice that motivates Jesus when he clears the temple.
He is making a distinction between two competing visions for the basis of
community. On the one hand is deep regard for the rules – the Ten Commandments,
the 613 other laws in Hebrew scripture, and the traditional interpretation
about how to observe all the rules. The other vision is one based on a
life-giving relationship with God.
The
people had a memory of failing God and abandoning God. They remembered living
in exile and their temple and nation in ruins. When the temple was rebuilt, it
represented the rebirth of their nation and the restoration of their place as
God’s people in God’s city in God’s temple. They rejoiced that they once again
had a special set of rules and a special distinction that these rules defined
them as holy or set apart.
The
trouble with rules is that they become an end to themselves. We can’t enter
into Jesus’ mind and know exactly what he is thinking. We naturally move to a
place where we reject the stodgy old institution because that’s what we would
do. Maybe there was a little corruption in the system that took advantage of
the tourists and the country folk and the poor. Maybe this is true. Part of me
wonders that if they really were thieves, Jesus would have invited them all to
dinner. He’d challenge them with a better angle than they ever thought of –
God’s outrageous love.
I
wonder if Jesus wasn’t clearing out the whole apparatus. It’s not that the
rules are wrong. The rules had become a substitute for the real thing.
I
wonder which set of laws determines our life at this moment? Of course we all
know the Ten Commandments, but our lives are really determined by the rigid
urgency of the American dream – or whatever you might call it. We work
ourselves to exhaustion working and getting to produce some sort of good life
we never seem to have time to enjoy. We say we do this for our children, but I
wonder if we really want what we are giving them.
The
law given on Sinai is the defining moment for the people of God. God chooses
them. God chooses to show the people how to live. It’s not the rules – 10 or
613, or a whole bookshelf. The significance is that God has come down to the
people and chooses to live in relationship with them.
The
trouble with rule keeping is that there is never an end to it. We all slip or
fail or make bad choices. The only response is retribution. We write more
rules. We tighten controls. We increase penalties. We are reduced to plodding
with our head down and our gaze averted, lest we step wrong or glance in the
wrong place. It is as if the rules protect us from the wrath of God.
Jesus is offering a different vision.
It’s time to ground ourselves in the relationship for which the rules are
given. God only wants to love us, and for us to love in return. God is not
offering a wall to protect us, or to warn us of danger in the darkness beyond
our wisdom. God is offering us a way to live into loving relationships.
The
real danger is not in transgressing the rules. The real danger is in losing the
loving relationship that God is offering. We don’t need tighter constraints on
membership. We need deeper longing for God’s presence and the gifts that come
from community. We don’t need demands for greater sacrifice. We need to be more
willing to fight for the things we care about. We need to stop worrying about
the possible results of failure. We need to rejoice in the blessings we have
around us.
If
we continue to boil down our institution into the bottom line – of
contributions given for services, then we will not have moved beyond the empty
exchanges of the temple moneychangers. If we begin to describe our community as
the place where we meet God, we may not ever satisfy the demands of the
marketplace, but we will drink from the well of life that never runs out. We
will never be broke. We will never be alone. We will never die.
