[Shared on Monday, March 29, 2010 at Clairmont Crest Holy Week service.]
I have to be careful about referring to a scripture as one of my favorite Scriptures, because I would soon find out that the number in that collection would be far too many to claim the designation of “favorites”. So instead, I will simply say that the following passage from Psalm 103 never fails to touch and move me when I read it or remember it. Of course, Psalm 103 is the one that begins
“Bless the Lord, O my soul, and all that is within me, bless His Holy Name.
Bless the Lord, O my soul, and forget not all His benefits.”
Many benefits are listed after these first two verses, but the section beginning in verse 8 always seems to make me pause in wonder. It states:
“The Lord is compassionate and gracious, slow to anger, abounding in love.”
Slow to anger. That’s the part that hits me with such grace. Slow to anger. Perhaps that’s because so many are quick to anger. When James counseled us to be slow to anger, he was simply saying, “Be more like God. Be slow to anger.”
Somehow, growing up I got the idea that God was very quick to be angry at all the terrible things that go on here. Some may get the idea that God is always angry. I remember the name of the puritan sermon of the 1700’s: “Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God.”
But here it says that God is slow to anger, and that is true. If it were not true, I guess He would have had His fill of you and me by now, wouldn’t He? And of course, the mere fact that the world is still here and Jesus has not yet returned testifies to the truth of Peter’s words that “[God] is patient with you, not wanting anyone to perish but everyone to come to repentance.”
Yes, it is certainly true, and I am grateful: “The Lord is compassionate and gracious, slow to anger, abounding in love.”
That’s why I find the Monday of Holy Week so fascinating.
Sunday, the beginning of Holy Week, was such a triumph, it would seem. We call Jesus’ coming into Jerusalem “The Triumphant Entry.” Coming into the city riding on a donkey while the people waved palm branches and shouted, “Hosanna,” surely that would have been an impressive sight for all of us. Yet, Jesus was strangely sad.
Luke 19.41-44 (NIV):
As he approached Jerusalem and saw the city, he wept over it 42 and said, “If you, even you, had only known on this day what would bring you peace--but now it is hidden from your eyes. 43 The days will come upon you when your enemies will build an embankment against you and encircle you and hem you in on every side. 44 They will dash you to the ground, you and the children within your walls. They will not leave one stone on another, because you did not recognize the time of God's coming to you.”
But on the Monday of Holy Week—today in our commemoration of the week—we get to see Jesus, the epitome of the God who is slow to anger—we see the anger of Jesus. We see what it is that finally sets Him off. We often call this week Passion Week, referring of course to His death, but on Monday we really get to see his passion. Jesus is passionate on Monday. He is angry on Monday.
And we must ask:
Why was He angry? And
What does that say to us?
Let's read from the Bible the account of today: the Monday of Holy Week.
MARK 11.12-19
12 The next day as they were leaving Bethany, Jesus was hungry. 13 Seeing in the distance a fig tree in leaf, he went to find out if it had any fruit. When he reached it, he found nothing but leaves, because it was not the season for figs. 14 Then he said to the tree, "May no one ever eat fruit from you again." And his disciples heard him say it. 15 On reaching Jerusalem, Jesus entered the temple area and began driving out those who were buying and selling there. He overturned the tables of the money changers and the benches of those selling doves, 16 and would not allow anyone to carry merchandise through the temple courts. 17 And as he taught them, he said, "Is it not written: "'My house will be called a house of prayer for all nations'? But you have made it 'a den of robbers.'" (NIV)
First, we note that the day begins with a peculiar incident with a fig tree. Here is a tree that is really not in season for figs, yet it is in full bloom of its leaves. Jesus was hungry and saw the leaves and wanted to see if there was any fruit. Finding none there, he cursed the tree, and Mark notes that the next day, the tree was completely withered from the roots. (Mark 11.20)
Was this harsh of Jesus? I remember a Greek professor in seminary who found it significant that his first judgment that led to death was not even aimed at a precious human but a tree. I like that thought. In my mind, there is a deeper connection to what follows: this tree was symbolic to Jesus of what He had found among His people Israel in his time on earth: many outward signs of growth, but precious little fruit to back up the claim.
Jesus would see the real thing, not simply the symbol, just a few miles up the street. When Jesus arrived at the temple area that morning, there were outward signs of religious fervor. People packed the area. They were buying and selling sacrificial animals so that they could worship God in the prescribed way. Many, many of the people were on a pilgrimage to Jerusalem for Passover. They had left their homes ostensibly so they could worship God.
But when Jesus saw the crowd, the religious activity, the buying and selling in preparation for Passover,he saw the fig tree all over again. Signs of life, signs of growth, but precious little fruit.
We often rail against “moneychangers in the temple,” and Luke gives special attention to those selling in his gospel. What was going on? Many of the pilgrims had decided not to bring sacrificial animals with them from home—too much trouble, for one thing. No guarantee they would pass muster as an acceptable sacrifice, for another. So they elected to bring money and buy the proper sacrifice. After all, these would have the equivalent of our USDA seal of approval. Or, more appropriately, they would have a kosher symbol on them.
But Jesus was outraged by these sellers because they were not interested in the things of God but in padding their pocketbooks by taking an unreasonable profit. How do we know? Jesus said, “You have made [the temple] a den of robbers,” quoting from the O.T. prophet Jeremiah.
These buyers were at the mercy of the sellers. And we are tempted to say, “Yeah, Jesus, get those guys. Give it to them. They are unfair. Their pricing reminds us of the popcorn price at the modern theater. Give it to them, Jesus.”
But before we look too much at “them,” we had better also consider “us.” Note that Mark and Matthew as well point out a fact easy to overlook. Look back to verse 15:
“ . . . Jesus entered the temple area and began driving out those who were buying and selling there.”
It was not just the actions of the sellers that angered the Lord. It was also the attitude of the buyers. He drove out the buyers as well as the sellers. Apparently, their hearts were not where they should have been, either.
The leaves were green, but where was the fruit?
It is so easy for us to come to another Holy Week with good intentions; yet we can end up simply going through the motions. We can treat our relationship with God as just another event on the calendar.
OK . . . it’s Thanksgiving: gather the family, get a turkey and some pumpkin pie, and let’s watch some football together.
OK… it’s Christmas: set up the tree, get out the decorations, buy the presents, go to Candlelight service.
OK . . . it’s Holy Week: a special musical or drama, an egg hunt, new spring fashions, maybe a Holy Week service or two, Sunday worship with the family.
Nothing wrong with any of those things . . . unless they are devoid of real meaning in the heart. Leaves are great … if fruit is likewise on the tree. It’s just not good if it is all for show and the real meaning is missing.
As we consider the anger of Jesus at this scene, we think back to other times He had displayed anger. And you know what it always seems to be? Hypocrisy.
Like you, I normally equate hypocrisy with trying to impress people with something on the outside that is not really there on the inside, in other words, intentional deception, but it seems that Jesus’ definition is far more subtle. To Him, it is not always intentionally being deceptive. Sometimes it is a failure to really seek wisdom. Sometimes it is a failure to really seek understanding.
When he pronounced his “Woes” on the Scribes and Pharisees, He called them hypocrites, but many of them really thought they were following God’s ways. Hypocrisy can come from ignorance of God’s ways, a refusal to seek understanding of God’s ways, as well as intentional deception. Many really though they were serving God when they killed Jesus or His disciples. But they were wrong. They were hypocritical because they failed to really seek God.
“Look at our pretty leaves,” they seem to say, sadly ignorant of the fact that they are supposed to produce fruit and not just go though religious rituals.
Jesus quoted Isaiah about such people:
“Isaiah was right when he prophesied about you hypocrites; as it is written: ‘These people honor me with their lips, but their hearts are far from me. 7 They worship me in vain; their teachings are but rules taught by men.’”
Man-made religion never measures up to a personal relationship with the God who loves you. Yet, we can get caught up in it as well. I’m thinking of a man I have known all my life. A few years ago I was seeking to talk to him about his relationship with God. His answer, “You know, I don’t drink beer anymore on Sundays out of my respect for God.”
My frustration was great! I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. I am glad he did something out of respect for God. But I don’t think not drinking beer on Sundays was the great desire of God for his life.
But we can also get caught up in the outer trappings—our beautiful church buildings, our Easter lilies, our children and grandchildren and their egg hunts, our new clothes, the wonderful musicals and dramas—and yet miss the centrality of Jesus died to pay the debt of my sin, and He rose from the dead that I might have life everlasting which begins here on earth with a relationship with God.
What shall we do to make sure this doesn’t happen to us?
How do we make sure that God, as slow to anger as He is, does not become angry with us from our refusal to step out of the shallowness of life into more depth?
The answer is given by Jesus this Monday morning of holy Week:
“My house shall be called a house of prayer for all nations.” (v. 17)
For “all nations” is significant. “Red, brown, yellow, black and white, they are precious in His sight.” I am grateful for services like these open to all followers of Jesus, laying aside our designations of Baptist, Methodist, Presbyterian, and others and coming together as believers in Jesus.
But more significant is the first part:
“My house shall be called a house of prayer.”
The temple was meant to be a house where people would truly seek God by calling out to Him.
Let us spend a few moments in silent prayer, each of us asking God to touch us deeply on the inside so that we may truly worship this holy season, not just with our lips, but with our hearts as well. Let us pray that not only will there be leaves in bloom on the branches of our lives, but that we will bear much fruit as well.
Let’s pray.
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