I say to you, something greater than the temple is here.
If you knew what this meant, I desire mercy, not sacrifice,
you would not have condemned these innocent men.
For the Son of Man is Lord of the sabbath.
As Saint Paul and the evangelists understood it, the Law of Moses represented more of an obstacle to the presence of God than a way to it. If anything it seemed to be a series of discouraging and sometimes damaging obstacles; and the pious pilgrim, weary and injured, must finally give up the journey.
Christians have certainly known that form of religion for it seems endemic to our faith. We are eager to please the God who has saved us but we can neither see his pleasant face nor hear his reassuring voice. And we wonder, "Is this enough? Can I rest from my sacrifices now? Ever? How much more do I owe in gratitude?"
To make matters worse, we draw our image of God from human authorities, most especially our own parents. But the godlike authority might also be a relative, priest, or teacher. If that person happens to be habitually unhappy, the child whose life depends upon that authority's favor, supposes that "God" is implacably miserable. And when that same human authority insists, "You made me angry!" or "You disappointed me!" or "Shame on you!" the child's self-image in the presence of a disfigured god suffers "moral injury." It may be a permanent spiritual disability.
To save us from that false god Jesus offers himself as the ideal authority, "For the Son of Man is Lord of the sabbath." We may imagine God in the person of Jesus, for that is who he is. And we may suppose that his father is the God we should worship.
As his disciples we study the manner of one who knows God. Jesus walks in the presence of his Father. He never hides from God, nor does he ever suppose that God is looking the other way, or that "God doesn't care what I say or do." He has no time off from God's oversight, but neither does he want such a hellish moment.
As we follow the Son of Mary we understand that this man is no fool. He is not gullible around human authorities, supposing that evil or vicious persons might be well-intentioned. We learn to trust his judgment, and to believe in his God, as opposed to the one we've known.
His God is trustworthy; Jesus shows us that. Even as he marches toward Jerusalem and drives the money changers out of the temple, we're sure he is acting in obedience, and on his Father's behalf. He knows what God wants. When he surrenders his spirit to his God, we want to go with him.
As I follow Jesus, knowing he is not a fool, I come to know, admire, love, and worship his God, whom he calls father. I come to understand the godlike authority I once feared and tried to please was only an unhappy human being. I can regard that parent, teacher, or priest as a fellow Christian; and I can forgive them as a companion on the journey. My father is my brother; my mother, my sister. And I would not trade them with anyone for the world.
We come to know that the Father of Jesus wants mercy, not sacrifice. We are agents of his benevolence, not victims of his arbitrary moods. Our sacrifices become merciful actions toward our fellow human beings; and we perform them in imitation of our merciful God.
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I love to write. This blog helps me to meditate on the Word of God, and I hope to make some contribution to our contemplations of God's Mighty Works.
Ordinarily, I write these reflections two or three weeks in advance of their publication. I do not intend to comment on current events.
I understand many people prefer gender-neutral references to "God." I don't disagree with them but find that language impersonal, unappealing and tasteless. When I refer to "God" I think of the One whom Jesus called "Abba" and "Father", and I would not attempt to improve on Jesus' language.
You're welcome to add a thought or raise a question.