A Reflection for the Feast of the Dedication of the Lateran Basilica in Rome
Find today’s readings here.
Since the Passover of the Jews was near,
Jesus went up to Jerusalem.
He found in the temple area those who sold oxen, sheep, and doves,
as well as the money-changers seated there.
He made a whip out of cords
and drove them all out of the temple area, with the sheep and oxen,
and spilled the coins of the money-changers
and overturned their tables,
and to those who sold doves he said,
"Take these out of here, and stop making my Father's house a marketplace."
His disciples recalled the words of Scripture,
Zeal for your house will consume me. (Jn 2:13-17)
Volumes have been written about the verses above and those that immediately follow them, as this scene in the Temple seems to set into motion the events that will lead to Jesus’ arrest and crucifixion in the Gospel of John. But I have always been fascinated by a different aspect of the story: the anger of Jesus.
I can obviously understand why the sight of such a holy place being turned into a marketplace could make anyone see red: I still get annoyed when I see the placards in St. Patrick’s Cathedral with QR codes on them, in case I want to make a donation on my phone during Mass. And no doubt there were many in the Temple area that day who thought that Jesus had a point, if not necessarily the most politic way of making it. But what do we make of the fact that in this scene from John, Jesus seems to lose his temper, and to attack his fellow worshippers?
Righteous anger, I was told by my first Scripture teacher when I asked this question. Yes, Jesus is angry—but for a reason. There are occasions in life when anger is justified, even called for. And I think we probably all know someone fully committed to the Gospel who also has quite a temper. I remember a time in America’s offices when a visitor—a well-known peace activist—confronted me because the magazine had an ad on the back cover for military chaplains…and then shoved me.
That explanation—righteous anger—makes sense to me. And it fits with Jesus’ general habit of confronting hypocrisy and structures of deceit. But I think there is another lesson to be found in Jesus’ anger and Jesus’ actions: Anger is not a sin. Lord knows it can certainly lead to sin, and probably does as often as not, but the actual emotion is fully human. And I have noticed something else over several decades working in and around church institutions: Denying oneself the freedom to experience anger can actually make one a resentful person and take away someone’s spiritual freedom in so many other ways.
I am in general opposed to people shoving me. I think I would also not be pleased to see a red-faced fella heading toward me with a whip of cords. But the response can’t be “how dare you be angry.” I suspect Jesus would respond to that with “how dare you not be.”
