The Rev. Keri T. Aubert    March 15, 2009

Exodus 20:1-17

Psalm 19

1 Corinthians 1:18-25

John 2:13-22

Third Sunday in Lent, Year B, RCL 

Well, it’s official: Vermont is the least religious state in the nation. Gallup pollsters asked Americans across the country this question: “Is religion an important part of your daily life.” Only 42% of Vermonters answered yes. In the most religious state, Mississippi, 85%—over twice the percentage—answered yes. Correspondingly, the least religious region is New England, and the most religious region is the Southeast. I grew up in the fifth most religious state, Louisiana, and spent three years in the second most religious state, Alabama.[i] The expression of religion is definitely very different in those places, and Christianity is very much more a part of public life. For example, people generally tend to sprinkle their conversation—even conversation with total strangers—with religious references that we simply don’t use. In Baton Rouge, one large Southern Baptist church, located next to the interstate highway that snakes through the city, installed three gigantic white crosses on the grounds, complete with lighting for night visibility.

While I may sometimes wish that it was easier to get people to come to church in Vermont, I wouldn’t necessarily wish other aspects of that culture on us. I might even suggest that we need to be careful. Expressions of religion don’t necessarily translate into expressions of faith, at least as we tend to define it. For example, Vermont may be the least religious state but it is always among the top states in measures of both social services for those who need it and overall quality of life for everyone. Mississippi may be the most religious state, but it is consistently at the bottom in measures of social services and quality of life. It would seem that institutionalized religion does not necessarily lead to institutionalized justice.

In Jesus’ day, the Jerusalem Temple was the Hebrews’ most sacred place. But around the Temple, and with the support of its leadership, a system arose that required the daily life of the Temple to be commercialized, with businesspeople operating in the Temple’s outer courts. There was a Temple tax that could be paid only with certain types of money, so money changers exchanged unacceptable for acceptable coins. Jewish law and tradition required animal sacrifice by priests at the altar in the Temple’s Holy of Holies, so vendors sold travelers cattle, sheep, and doves, of whose meat the priests would get a portion after sacrifice. These transactions were required of devout Jews and provided a living for the businesspeople and the Temple leaders.

Jesus’ actions in the Temple indicate that he thought that all this activity was suspect. We might share his concern with a system that seems to have had more to do with shoring up the institution than with worshiping God and caring for the needy. The perpetuation of such a system is really a form of idolatry. When our work as a faith community becomes more about perpetuating our own institution and less about worshipping God and doing God’s work, then we too have a problem, and that problem too is idolatry. Our wonderful worship is great—until we forget its purpose. Our wonderful community is great—until we forget its purpose. We should honor one another as individual gifts from God and we should celebrate our lives together as a gathered community—but our center must always be God and our aim must always be to do God’s work outside these walls.

This week the national Episcopal Church issued a report on domestic poverty. Titled “Faith in the Balance: A Call to Action,” it reports on the Presiding Bishop’s Summit on Domestic Poverty held last May. “The Presiding Bishop convened this leadership gathering envisioning ‘the development of creative ways in which we can work collectively on common issues, the development of steps to eradicate poverty in the United States, say a word to the nation, point to possible actions at the next General Convention, and recognize, elevate, and celebrate all that is done on behalf of the poor on a daily basis in our congregations, dioceses, and institutions.’ ”[ii] The report presents a Model for Domestic Poverty Alleviation that organizes the process into four steps: Vision, Formation, Networking, and Advocacy. And it breaks the work into four categories: Servant Leadership, Christian Discipleship, Partnership in Mission, and Stewardship of Creation.

In discussing the role of church leaders in addressing issues of systemic poverty, the report quotes one author who reflected on servant leadership whose goal is service that leads to healing. He tells this story:

“Twelve ministers and theologians of all faiths had convened for a two-day off-the-record seminar on the one-word theme of healing. The chairman, a psychiatrist, opened the seminar with this question: “We are all healers, whether we are ministers or doctors. Why are we in this business? What is our motivation?” There followed only ten minutes of intense discussion and they were all agreed, doctors and ministers, Catholics, Jews and Protestants. “For our own healing,” they said.[iii]

The author continues:

“This is an interesting word, healing, with its meaning, “to make whole.” The example above suggests that one really never makes it. It is always something sought. Perhaps, as with the minister and the doctor, the servant-leader might also acknowledge that his own healing is his motivation. There is something subtle communicated to one who is being served and led if, implicit in the compact between servant-leader and led, is the understanding that the search for wholeness is something they share.[iv] 

I hear in this a call to solidarity with those we would lead, and with those we would follow. We are all in need of healing, and Lent is a good time to remember that. It may also be a good time to remember that the path to healing sometimes takes turns that we do not anticipate. As God builds God’s Kingdom, we should consider the possibility that it might not look like anything we have imagined or can imagine. By the time the Gospel of John was written, the Jerusalem Temple had been destroyed and the Temple system with it. Perhaps it’s not too far a stretch to suppose that the Kingdom of God might not even have churches. Our churches are relevant only if God’s work is being done. I’m not saying not to be religious, but I am suggesting that our religiosity must be driven by something deeper, and that sometimes we need to be shaken from our slumbering acceptance of the status quo.

Sometimes little things can do this. I got a small awakening from a church blog entry I saw recently. The writer discussed an educational version of Monopoly she developed to, as she put it, “illustrate various responses to poverty.”[v] She describes it this way:

I divided a class into four groups, and I gave each group a Monopoly game with its own set of instructions.

Game One proceeded according to the usual rules.

Charity: In Game Two, one team got $200 each time it passed Go, and the other received $20—to illustrate a difference in income. When the team with low pay got into financial trouble, the higher-earning team was to help them out.

You're on your own: In Game Three, one team received most of the property at the outset, and the other team received just a few pieces—to illustrate a difference in wealth. When the team with little property went bankrupt, the game was over. (This happened much more quickly than in Game One.)

Jubilee: In Game Four, the property was distributed equitably at the beginning. Players could assemble monopolies and buy houses and hotels, but every 15 minutes all property returned to its original owners, along with whatever had been built on it in the interim.[vi] 

This writer’s goal was to illustrate that relieving the problems of poverty requires both direct service and justice advocacy—both charity and change. But we might also gain an awareness that we sometimes take for granted rules that we have the power to reject. I think the risk is that our idolatry of the temporal just might get in the way of our attainment of the eternal.

Our belief as Christians is that the Cross is not the last word. Our work as Christians is to help ensure that the cross is not the last word. In the Kingdom of God, we will all be healed together. Returning to the recent Gallup poll, maybe the important question for us is not, “Is religion an important part of your daily life.” Instead, perhaps the better question is this: “Is kindness an important part of your daily life?” I hope that our religious life together informs our answer and fosters our action.