“Do I dare disturb the universe? In a minute there is time / For decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse.” This past week, a friend shared this line from the poem “The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock” by T.S. Eliot, and I thought how apt it is as we reflect on what Jesus did when he “upset the applecart” in the Temple.
In T.S. Eliot’s poem, Prufrock is beset by anxiety about making a decision that will go against social norms and may lead to unforeseen consequences. He becomes paralyzed by even the simplest choices, and frozen in inaction. By contrast, at the very beginning of John’s Gospel, Jesus discerns his “minute” for this dramatic, irreversible action that will determine his path from that moment forward, a path of not only encounter, but also of confrontation and conflict. Jesus dared to “disturb the universe.”
Wait, is this our usual picture of Jesus? Confrontation? Conflict? Jesus as a rabble rousing upstart who overturns the status quo, challenges authorities, and makes trouble in the midst of a sacred space– the Jerusalem Temple, no less? Yes, this is also Jesus, the same Jesus who is gentle with the poor, merciful with repentant sinners, and suggests that we should not judge others.
He had range, and inner freedom, and while he honored the Law and the traditions of his people, Jesus did not regard the status quo, or social convention, as sacrosanct. Yes, Jesus respected the authority of the religious officials, and even the authority of the Roman occupiers of Palestine. But he exercised “creative fidelity” to their codes of conduct, their rules and regulations, bending and even breaking these rubrics according to a higher Law, a deeper wisdom, and on a case by case basis. He broke the Sabbath restriction against manual labor. He touched the “unclean” and allowed himself to be touched by women. Jesus even had friendships with Samaritans, people who were despised by the Jews of his culture because of their different religious cult. Jesus put people before everything else, even the Law.
What does all this have to do with Jesus’ rather shocking behavior in the Temple? Can we picture the way he formed a whip made of cords and drove out the merchants selling livestock and doves for the ritual sacrifices, disrupting their commerce by throwing over tables and spilling their coins? What gave him the right to upset the ways that people had been conducting their businesses and participating in this carefully prescribed system of worship? Didn’t he go a little too far by wrecking the place the way he did?
We know what inspired Jesus to perform this dramatic gesture. Jesus was ultimately true to his Father’s desire and will, his Father’s love. Everything else was negotiable, was a matter for discernment, or “creative fidelity.” This love of the Father was for Jesus the ultimate arbitrating factor, the highest principle and priority, the only absolute. On the basis of this, he was willing to rethink and potentially challenge every rule and convention, every human value, in order to reorient us to what it is that God most desires.
In the case of the Temple, we know that the practice of ritual sacrifice and the commodification of worship – the selling of birds and animals – put an unbearable and alienating burden on the poor, excluding them from the Temple worship of God. This custom also reinforced the social distance between the rich and poor, benefiting those who were already in positions of wealth and prestige. As Jesus took up his prophetic role on behalf of the poor, and to adjust the situation in the direction of justice, we know that he was willing to make this “good trouble” even if the consequences would threaten his wellbeing, let alone lead to his eventual death at the hands of the religious authorities.
What are the implications of Jesus’ example for us as people in positions of authority, service, and responsibility?
As leaders, we naturally have a certain duty to maintain equilibrium, provide order and stability, and protect the values of our organizations. Yes? And yet, there are times when higher principles take precedence, and require us to summon the courage to make “good trouble,” to question the status quo, and even disrupt social conventions that are not serving the greater good. When matters of justice, liberty, or democracy are threatened, these “higher values” sometimes call on us to question or confront the threats. When vulnerable people are unjustly treated, and their human dignity and rights are violated, we may need to discern whether there is a higher law, a greater good to which we need and want to be obedient.
What for us is absolute? What higher principles guide us when multiple goods are at stake and we must discern our actions, or our inactions? Are we willing to “dare to disturb the universe?”
With you on the road,
