Lectionary Commentaries for March 3, 2024
Third Sunday in Lent (Year B)

The Gospel of John frequently interjects or adds its “meta” (transcending reflection of the subject by turning itself into an object of inquiry) by commenting and providing explanations of its own Gospel narrative (2:21; 6:6; 11:13, 51–52; 12:6, 33). For this week’s Gospel passage, the author does so in verse 21: “But he was speaking of the temple of his body.”

I also would like to interject by adding my “meta” on this week’s lectionary reading from John.

As you are preparing to preach this coming Sunday, there is one thing I hope you would not consciously or subconsciously do: preach a sermon with a hint of antisemitism. It does happen from time to time for two reasons.

First, it happens because Jesus is equated with Christianity. During the time when the Gospel of John was being written (around 80–90 CE), Christianity as a religious institution had not been established yet. Christianity became an institution not before the fourth century CE. During the time of the early church, there were hints of “proto-Christianity” or traceable vestiges of institutionalized Christianity as we know it today. Nevertheless, vestiges do not replace the historical Jewishness of the Johannine Jesus and the Johannine community.

Second, right before John 2:13–22, the narrative of the wedding at Cana (2:1–12) has been misread and wrongfully preached as a proof-text for supersessionism. Since Jesus replaced water (Jewish rites of purification) with wine (Christianity or the blood of Christ), the ensuing passage (verses 13–22) is assumed to be the author of John’s intentional doubling down on the need to replace Judaism with Christianity: replace the Second Temple of Jerusalem (Judaism) with the body of Jesus (Christianity).¹

Aside from these two, John has become a petri dish for other antisemitic sentiments. A classic example is the misreading of the “I am the bread of life” proclamation (6:35–59), whereby Jesus is apparently the everlasting bread that replaces the rotting manna/traditions/beliefs of the Jews/Hebrews (Exodus 16:1–36).

In other words, I hope that the readers of this week’s Working Preacher will remember that the Johannine community is a Jewish community seeking to understand and follow the Gospel that Jesus is the long-awaited Messiah, the son/lamb of God. Following the argument above, one has to address the declaration that the body of Jesus is the Temple (verses 18–22). Doesn’t that sound like a replacement of the old Temple with the new?

But here, there is a bigger picture: The Second Temple of Jerusalem that has been under construction for 46 years (verse 20) had already been destroyed by the Roman Empire when the Gospel of John was written. The Johannine community had to explain why the merciful God allowed the sacred Jerusalem Temple to be trampled by the imperial colonizers. In the aftermath of the destruction of the Temple, the Gospel of John is providing solace to its community by reminding them that Jesus is the new Temple, the Son of God (1:34), the lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world (1:29).

In other words, the Gospel of John gives us a glimpse into a Jewish community that is struggling to understand the role of Jesus in their lives after the Temple is destroyed. This struggle is found and expressed in John 12:13–22.

The destruction of the Second Temple of Jerusalem was traumatic for the Johannine community. This pervasive trauma lingers, triggering them to recall a violent event that is described only in John (see Matthew 21:12–13; Mark 11:15–19; Luke 19:45–48): The Johannine community recalled Jesus making a whip of cords in order to drive the money changers out of the Temple (verses 14–16). The passage further expresses the trauma experienced by the Johannine community by quoting Psalm 69:9, “Zeal for your house will consume me” (verse 17). Such recollection reeks of the colonial trauma and mimicry that haunt the Johannine community as they themselves try to address and reconcile the pain of losing the Temple while believing that Jesus is the Messiah.

Also, the Johannine community knows the dangers of using violence to demonstrate sovereignty.² That is why the Johannine community also portrays Jesus as the peaceable lamb of God: “Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you” (14:27). As the Roman Empire continuously tramples upon their lives and communities, the Johannine community holds the memories of both an angry Jesus and the peaceful Jesus, trying to console their community in ways that both recognize their traumatized lived realities and lift up the need for messianic hope. Yes, the Temple is destroyed; and yet we still believe in God.

As preachers, we do have moments in which we have to explain why bad things happen to us or others. When we do, let’s preach in ways that recognize the traumatic and the traumatized because the pain lingers. Also, when some persons recollect their traumatic event in ways that might not be life-giving, let’s put a pause on ourselves from (mis)judging their recollection. Just as John 2:13–22 could be misread, let us find ways to pause ourselves and understand where people (and texts) are coming from. By doing so, we might find commonalities, resonances, and ways to heal each other.

Notes

1. Stephen D. Moore, “Superseding Judaism 3,” in Revealing the New Testament, Revealing Religion (West Stockbridge, MA: Thinkingstrings, 2017), n.p.
2. Adele Reinhartz, “The Gospel of John,” in Fortress Commentary on the Bible: The New Testament, ed. Margaret Aymer, Cynthia Briggs Kittredge, and David A. Sánchez (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 2014), 275.

Laws or commandments, especially those in the Bible, are not usually the favorite topic of discussion or sermons in the church. Despite this disregard and disinterest, most would agree that the laws found in Exodus 20:1–17—known as the Ten Commandments or the Decalogue or, in Judaism, as the Ten Words (“I am the LORD your God” is viewed as the first word)—are of key importance. Indeed, the Hebrew biblical text hints of their significance as these laws are repeated, with some minor variation, at Deuteronomy 5.

The differences between these laws in Exodus 20 and in Deuteronomy 5 are telling. For example, the reason for the Sabbath in Exodus is so Israel can mimic God’s original creative act (imitatio Dei) (20:11).

In Deuteronomy, however, the reason for the Sabbath follows from Israel’s previous experience as slaves before their deliverance by God (5:14–15). The implication is that the Israelites sorely needed rest but did not receive it during their enslavement until God’s great act of redemption. As a result, the Israelites are to empathize with those who are not yet free by sharing and passing on to others the rest that stems from God’s saving act, especially to those who are still enslaved, be it literal or metaphorical.

Hence, Sabbath rest in Deuteronomy, as in Exodus, also centers on mimicry in that it mimics the progression from Israel’s past, oppressed self to its new, divinely delivered self, where it can finally find rest. The practice of the Sabbath therefore embodies and recalls the movement from slavery to salvation.

The different reasons given for the Sabbath, in that they center on rest, nudge us to consider our current relationship to rest’s opposite—work—and whether it is a good or healthy one. The answer seems obvious, at least in the United States. Articles on overworking, burnout, stress, and quiet quitting seem to indicate that our relationship to work—and therefore, by extension, to rest—is deeply dysfunctional.¹

This topic of work and rest brings up other topics and questions that might be of importance to discuss in churches, such as the pressures and never-ending work of parents, the invisible labor of women, the socioeconomic challenges faced by many, and the greed of corporations and companies that use people’s labor for maximum material gain. Relatedly, this topic easily leads to thinking about the ways in which our identity or self-worth is centered on our work or employment.

The question of rest and work also raises questions about our relationship to technology and social media. Can we truly rest if we are “connected” technologically or reachable at all times? The problems caused by technology, especially social media, also intersect with several other laws mentioned in Exodus 20 (and Deuteronomy 5), such as the jealousy of God and the related prohibition against idolatry (20:3–5) and covetousness (20:17).

The definition of idolatry, when applied to the modern context, should not be limited to worship of idols or cult images. Rather, idolatry can be expanded to anything—fame, power, money—that rivals God for our attention or focus or that we treat as more important than or as important as God. Considering that the average person in the United States spends more than six hours on the internet per day,² it is not difficult to think that technology and media have become a form of idolatry—one that negatively impacts our relationship with others.

So egregious is our addiction to technology that there is now a term to describe the practice whereby people ignore those in their immediate company so as to pay attention to their phone: “phubbing” (“phone” + “snubbing”). Unsurprisingly, phubbing is bad for our relationships and also for our mental health. Disrespectful and damaging to our relationships, addiction to technology seems rather idolatrous.

Relatedly, technology, especially social media, not only steals our attention but also amplifies our envy—and therefore our covetousness, a misdeed explicitly warned against in some detail at Exodus 20:17. “Social media increases envy because it … shows you the lives of people more fortunate than you; it is easier than ever for anyone to flaunt their good fortune to the masses; and it puts you in the same virtual community as people who are not in your real-life community, making you compare yourself with them.”³

The purpose of these laws was to support and create the right relationships among people, their community, and their God. It should therefore be unsurprising that the contravention of these laws—as reinterpreted for the modern context—leads to dissatisfaction and dysfunctionality—that is, the very opposite of right relationships. As reported, the jealousy and covetousness created by social media lead to misery, depression, and unhappiness.⁴ Hence, despite their antiquity and perhaps lack of popularity, the Ten Commandments or Ten Words, insofar as they tell us how to live better lives and have better relationships, are still relevant and important today—or perhaps even more so.

Notes

1. Judith Shulevitz, “Bring Back the Sabbath,” New York Times Magazine, March 2, 2003, https://www.nytimes.com/2003/03/02/magazine/bring-back-the-sabbath.html.
2. Andrew Perrin and Sara Atske, “About Three-in-Ten U.S. Adults Say They Are ‘Almost Constantly’ Online,” Pew Research Center, March 26, 2021, https://www.pewresearch.org/short-reads/2021/03/26/about-three-in-ten-u-s-adults-say-they-are-almost-constantly-online/.
3. Arthur C. Brooks, “Envy, the Happiness Killer,” The Atlantic, October 20, 2022, https://www.theatlantic.com/family/archive/2022/10/envy-happiness-social-media/671786/#.
4. Belinda Goldsmith, “Is Facebook Envy Making You Miserable?,” Reuters, January 22, 2013, https://www.reuters.com/article/facebook-envy/is-facebook-envy-making-you-miserable-idINDEE90L0AZ20130122.

Psalm 19 is a rich gift. From Beethoven’s “The Heavens Are Declaring” (Die Himmel rühmen), to Bach, Handel, and Haydn, magnificent musical compositions have incorporated its words. C.S. Lewis declared that Psalm 19 was a treasure trove in the Psalter, writing, “I take this to be the greatest poem in the Psalter and one of the greatest lyrics in the world.”¹ On this Third Sunday in Lent, how do we read and appropriate this psalm into our Lenten journey?

Psalm 19 is one of five psalms in the Psalter categorized as a creation psalm. The others are Psalms 8, 65, 104, and 148. As an interesting aside, one commentator imagines that while Psalm 8 was composed while contemplating the star-filled night sky, Psalm 19 was composed in the bright light of day when the sun eclipses the starry night sky. Nevertheless, Psalm 19 is unique among all the creation psalms in that, while creation is celebrated in the first six verses of the psalm, the remaining verses, 7–14, focus on the torah, the instruction, of God.

We begin with an examination of the two elements of the psalm, broken into four sections. Verses 1–4a celebrate creation’s delight in God’s good provisions. No words are necessary, but creation, in deafening silence, shouts its delight in God’s creative provisions. Every time I read this portion of the psalm, I am reminded of Elijah’s encounter with God in 1 Kings 19:11–12 after he flees from Jezebel. There we read that God says to Elijah,

“Go out and stand on the mountain before the LORD, for the LORD is about to pass by.” Now there was a great wind … but the LORD was not in the wind; and after the wind an earthquake, but the LORD was not in the earthquake; and after the earthquake a fire, but the LORD was not in the fire; and after the fire a sound of sheer silence.

(Many of us learned it as “a still, small voice,” but “sheer silence” is actually a better translation of the Hebrew). Sometimes, we have to stand in the magnificent quiet of nature to hear the voice of God, something perhaps more important in this Lenten season than in other times.

Verses 4b–6 echo the common ancient Near Eastern picture of the earth in relationship to the created order. There we read that the sun emerges from its tent and runs its course across the sky … but we read in verse 4b that the creator God is the one who has set the tent for the sun.  The sun is not a god, as depicted in other ancient Near Eastern stories, but is part of God’s creation (see Genesis 1:14–17).

Thus verses 1–6 of Psalm 19 paint a picture of a world that celebrates day after day the wondrous creative work of God. And humans are not mentioned once—a humbling reminder of our place within the greater created order.

The focus of the psalm changes dramatically beginning with verse 7. Now, not creation, but the torah is center-stage.

Verses 7–10 extol the virtues of the torah, using synonyms for torah that echo Psalm 119’s extended praise of torah—decrees, precepts, commandments, and ordinances. Verses 11–13 recount the psalmist’s self-admonition to pay attention to the silent voices of creation and to cling to the teachings of the torah—God’s creative and redeeming work—and ask God to keep the psalmist from “the insolent” (verse 13 New Revised Standard Version Updated Edition) (variously translated as “proud thoughts,” “arrogance,” or  “presumptuous sins”). While “the insolent” is an apt translation of the Hebrew word, the NRSVue includes a footnote offering an alternate translation of “proud thoughts.”

A translation of “the insolent” can imply outside influences on the psalmist, while “proud thoughts” internalizes the influence to the psalmist’s own self—a better understanding, perhaps, of the psalmist’s “gut feelings” after musing on creation and the torah. Interestingly, the same Hebrew word translated as “the insolent” in Psalm 19:14 occurs six times in Psalm 119, the lengthy psalm celebrating the torah (verses 21, 51, 69, 78, 85, 122). While in Psalm 119:21, the word is translated as “insolent” and in verse 112 as “godless,” in the other four occurrences in Psalm 119, the New Revised Standard Version translates the word as “arrogant.”

The final words of the psalm, “Let the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart … ,” are fitting for those of us who endeavor to bring the words of scripture alive to our listeners. Psalm 19 summarizes magnificently the two ways in which God engages the world according to the biblical text—through creation (Genesis 1–3; Psalms 8 and 104; Isaiah 42:5; John 1:1–3, and others)—and through active engagement with the people of God—the call of Abraham and Sarah (Genesis 12); the exodus from Egypt (Exodus 12); the giving of the torah at Sinai (Exodus 20); the ongoing appeal to faithfulness through the prophets; and the birth, life, and teachings of Jesus of Nazareth.

As we journey through this Lenten season, filled with introspection and anticipation of the death and resurrection of Jesus, may we take the time to stop, if only briefly, and listen to the silent voice of creation, and then to reflect on the torah, the blueprint for living in community with one another. Psalm 19 is a wonderful summary of both of those iterations of the God we worship.

Notes

1. C.S. Lewis, Reflections on the Psalms (New York: Harcourt, Brace, 1986), 63.

Paul writes to the Corinthian church in response to a letter from the community as well as oral reports from “Chloe’s people” (1 Corinthians 1:11). The letter he has received poses questions about several ethical and practical issues, while the oral report has to do with factions within the congregation.

Paul will respond to the written questions later in this correspondence (1 Corinthians 7:1 and following), but first he addresses the urgent problem of factions first (1:10–17). It seems the Corinthians are divided based on loyalty to different leaders; some claim loyalty to Paul, some to Cephas, some to Apollos, and some to Christ (1:12). In response, Paul asks, “Has Christ been divided? Was Paul crucified for you? Or were you baptized in the name of Paul?” (1:13).

Quite possibly, some of these divided loyalties stemmed from opinions about which leaders were the most knowledgeable, wise, eloquent, or powerful—qualities admired in the Hellenistic culture in which the Corinthians lived. Acts 18:24–25 tells us that when Apollos came to Ephesus, the believers there were quite impressed with his charisma, eloquence, and knowledge of the Scriptures. Apollos then went from Ephesus to Corinth (Acts 19:1).

We know from Paul’s remarks in 2 Corinthians that some in the Corinthian community regarded Paul as rather weak when he was with them in person and thought his speaking was “contemptible” (2 Corinthians 10:2, 10). Perhaps in defense of his less-than-impressive speaking style, Paul says in 1 Corinthians 1:17 that God sent him to proclaim the gospel “not with eloquent wisdom, so that the cross of Christ might not be emptied of its power.” He returns to this subject at the beginning of chapter 2, saying he did not proclaim the mystery of God with lofty words of wisdom, but decided to know nothing among them except Jesus Christ, and him crucified, so their faith might rest not on human wisdom but on the power of God (2:1–5).

In between those remarks, in 1:18–25, Paul has more to say about the “message [logos] of the cross” that he proclaims. The “logos of the cross” is for Paul shorthand for the whole story of Christ—his life, ministry, death, resurrection, ascension, and expected return at the end of days. Paul knows that this story is foolishness to many. He quotes Isaiah 29:14 to show that God has always been in the business of overturning worldly wisdom (1:19). Since worldly wisdom has not led to knowledge of God, God decided to save people in a way that is foolish according to the world (1:20–21). 

“For Jews demand signs, and Greeks desire wisdom, but we proclaim Christ crucified, a stumbling block to Jews and foolishness to Gentiles” (1:22–23). Why would Christ crucified be a stumbling block to Jews? Messianic expectations were varied among Jews of the first century. Yet among those who waited for a Messiah, there were no expectations of a Messiah who would die as a criminal on a Roman cross. The very idea was absurd and offensive. The Messiah was supposed to liberate God’s people from their oppressors, not get killed by the oppressors! 

And why would the message of the cross be foolishness to Gentiles? In the Hellenistic world, Gentile ideas about the divine were extremely varied. Most Gentiles were polytheistic, believing in various gods and goddesses who exhibited behavior both virtuous and vicious toward one another and toward human beings. 

Certain schools of philosophy promoted ideas of the divine that were more impersonal and removed from human affairs. The Stoics spoke of the “logos” as the rational principle that governs and orders the universe. Moreover, in many philosophical traditions, there was a dualistic view of the body and the mind or spirit, such that the vicissitudes of bodily existence were to be escaped or surmounted by the mind or spirit. In all these worldviews, the idea of a God who willingly takes on bodily human existence and dies a shameful death would indeed be utter foolishness.

Nevertheless, Paul insists that the message of Christ crucified is the power and wisdom of God to those who are called, both Jews and Greeks (1:24). “For God’s foolishness is wiser than human wisdom, and God’s weakness is stronger than human strength” (1:25). Paul’s argument is rather circular, dismissing those for whom the message is offensive as “those who are perishing” (1:18) and affirming those who believe the message as those who are called and being saved (1:18, 24). Yet Paul is not trying to convince those on the outside. He is writing to those who already believe but are tempted to evaluate their spiritual leaders by worldly understandings of power and wisdom.

You may want to rethink your criteria for evaluation, Paul says. The message of the cross is that God’s wisdom and power are found in the least likely places. Not only do we see this in Christ crucified, but also in the composition of the church. God often calls those who are weak and lowly in the world’s eyes and empowers them by the Spirit to build up the body of Christ. There is no room for anyone to boast, except in the Lord (1:31).

Paul continues to argue in chapters 2 and 3 that there is no place for division among God’s people. “So let no one boast about human leaders. For all things are yours, whether Paul or Apollos of Cephas or the world or life or death or the present or the future—all belong to you, and you belong to Christ, and Christ belongs to God” (3:21–23).

The message of the cross still sounds like foolishness to many today. In churches struggling with declining participation, there is sometimes a tendency to engage in wishful thinking about church leaders. “If only the pastor were a more charismatic preacher, the sanctuary would be full!” Yet we have also seen in recent years many large congregations devastated by the moral or spiritual failings of a particularly charismatic pastor or leader. The scandal of the cross is overshadowed by the scandal of human failure to live in the way of Christ. 

Paul’s argument in 1 Corinthians is that it is wrong-headed and dangerous to base participation in the body of Christ on loyalty to any human being. Certainly, we are to pray for and support our church leaders, but our ultimate loyalty is to Christ, who alone is head of the church. The message of the cross is illogical, foolish, and a stumbling block to many. Yet it is also a powerful, radical story of God’s love poured out for the world. Faithful discipleship in our day, as in Paul’s, is to keep ourselves from getting in the way of this story, to speak and embody the message in such a way that the story of Christ crucified and risen can work on human hearts—to scandalize, yes, but also to save.