The Law Is Not an End in Itself
The Law Is Not an End in Itself
In the twelfth chapter of Matthew’s Gospel, we are given three statements by Jesus that will give us profound insight into the distinctness of his teachings from the practices of established religion and from mere spirituality as well.
On a Sabbath day, Jesus and his disciples were walking through grainfields. Observation of the Sabbath was key in the religious practice of the day. It was part of the covenantal relationship between God and his people. The Sabbath was intended for two principal reasons—for worship and for rest. By inference, we can understand that it provided built-in family time and provision for physical, emotional, and spiritual replenishment from a hard week of work.
As they walked through the fields, some of the disciples who were hungry began to pluck the ears of corn and enjoy a little bite here and there. The Pharisees, legalistic guardians of the law, took note of it and immediately censured Jesus for allowing his followers to “work” on the Sabbath. One thing they should have learned very quickly in being around Jesus was that he knew the Scriptures better than they did and that he knew how to turn the question around to show how misguided those religious teachers really were. He knew that David was a big hero of theirs. So he borrowed from a chapter in David’s life and asked them if David had violated the law when he allowed his soldiers who were hungry to enter the temple and eat the consecrated bread that had been set apart for the priests. Their response was silence. They knew they had stepped onto a religious minefield with their accusation and with Jesus’ response to them.
Religion is a scaffolding for faith, but when it becomes the faith itself, it kills faith. We are often inclined to ignore the beauty of what is beneath and be distracted by the scaffolding. It was no different in Jesus’ day; worshippers’ attention to their religious ceremonies and customs had become so onerous that they had forgotten the purpose of their worship. Jesus not only drew their attention to their mistake, he shocked them further when he said, “I tell you that something greater than the temple is here. If you had known what these words mean, ‘I desire mercy, not sacrifice,’ you would not have condemned the innocent. For the Son of Man is Lord of the Sabbath” (Matthew 12:6–8 NIV).
These phrases he used in his answer—“greater than the temple,” “Lord of the Sabbath,” “mercy sacrifice”—are alone worthy of a whole study. Let’s consider them briefly here. “Greater than the temple.” Just imagine what the temple meant to the nation and what it had cost to build it. It was the quintessential definition of a people. It was where God had said he would meet with his people. In so being, it had become the power base for a few.
Wars have been fought over similar settings. In India today the religious buildings are showplaces, with each one trying to outdo the other in magnificence and artistry. Nobody visiting the Kali temple in Calcutta can come away without deep questions of the soul. The same applies to the great cathedrals of Europe, as well as the mosques. The Muslims recognized the importance of the “place,” and when they conquered a city they almost always identified the most sacred space of the local people and either turned it into a mosque or built a mosque beside it and set stringent laws limiting where other holy places could be built and how high they could be. This has been carried through to today, in spite of the belief of some westerners that this is no longer true of Islam. It is almost impossible to get permission to build a church anywhere in the Middle East, even a small place of worship.
And it is not accidental or innocent that the followers of the religion whose holy men coached those who uttered prayers to Allah as they turned the twin towers of the World Trade Center into an inferno, are determined to build a mosque in the same vicinity now. To the promoters of this project it is the ultimate slap in the face to the traditions of a nation whose founding beliefs are different from their own. Regardless of their smooth talk and reassurances, have no doubt that they know exactly what they are doing. I have Muslim friends who clearly condemn this effort because they know why it is being planned.
Some time ago, I was visiting the Grand Mosque in Casablanca, Morocco. It is magnificent. As we walked through the lower level, we noticed two rows of water fountains where men would do their ceremonial washings before entering to worship. I asked if the two rows of fountains were for men and women. “Oh, no,” came the reply. “One is for the elderly and the other is for the younger ones. If we do not separate them, the young men will just elbow and push their way through and the older men would never get their turn.”
How odd, I thought. Going in to worship without even common courtesy and decency? But that was not all. The whole group of us, men and women, were then ushered into the restroom area before we left. A naive American in the group asked if the facilities were normally used by both men and women. The Muslim guide was shocked. “Oh, no! The number of rapes would be unimaginable!” I was startled at his comment: A woman was not safe even in a mosque? But if you dare to profane the mosque or the religion by what you say or do in support of your own political or religious beliefs, blood will flow.
Mathura and Ayodhya, areas in India sacred to Hindus, are now occupied by Muslims and also the focus of many religious battles. The beautiful church built in Istanbul by the mother of Constantine has now been made a museum by Islamic forces, its Christian inscriptions defaced.
The tragedy is not just interreligious; it is also intrareligious. Many Christians will tell you that the biggest opposition to their mission in some countries comes not from those of other beliefs but from the mainline, so-called orthodox churches there. Probably the most incredible quarrel I have heard of is within the Church of the Holy Sepulcher in Jerusalem. Divided among five Christian sects, the parties do not even talk to one another. A few years ago, I personally went there and asked one of the archbishops to confirm that what I had heard was a fact. “Sad to say, it is,” he said. This is the fanaticism that buildings and “holy sites” can engender. They have often been built by great political personalities as a reflection of their ego, and access to them is often restricted to a favored group.
Even modern religious edifices can be the targets of such perversions. Some years ago I was in a Buddhist country, and one night I heard a lot of noise and sirens outside my hotel window. The next morning I heard what had happened. A man had used an ax to deface some of the Buddhist statues. Another man rushed over to him, overpowered him, and with the same ax cut his body into pieces. When I heard that, I had a sick feeling in my stomach. Later, it was realized that the man had a history of mental illness. He paid for his actions by being mercilessly slaughtered himself. I ask you, if Gautama Buddha had been there, what would he have said? Shrines often become sacred beyond the very desires of the religious teacher. Buddha would never have endorsed or sanctioned the merciless action of the man defending his statue.
The New Spiritualists are no exception here.
But in the New Testament, God raises the question: “Who asked you to build these places?” That was an amazing question to a religious people who revered David and Solomon. This was not to indict them for something wrong they had done, but to ask them how something so noble could have gone so wrong.
Jesus said he was greater than the temple. In what way? The temple is a place; Jesus a person. The temple has a special authority and a hierarchy; all who wish to have equal access to Jesus. The temple was drowned in ceremony in an effort to attain intimacy with the Almighty; a relationship with Jesus is an intimacy that transcends ceremony. In a temple, you go to the place; Jesus comes to you. The temple is made of stone and mortar; the new temple Jesus spoke of, where he has promised to live and commune with each of us, is within the body of each believer. You can lie to a building; you cannot lie to a person with impunity.
In the book of Revelation, in the midst of John’s description of the “New Jerusalem” he is startled and declares: “I did not see a temple in the city, because the Lord God Almighty and the Lamb are its temple” (21:22 NIV). Consummate worship requires no temple. Just as the sacrifices of the temple system pointed to the reality of Jesus on the cross, the temple itself foreshadowed ultimate communion with God, who is distinct from us and invites us into that intimate communion with him. There is no need for priests, no need for a temple, no power structure. Take note that this is not an absorption into an impersonal, absolute consciousness. This is not union with the divine: This is communion with the God of the universe. It is not Advaita (nondualistic). This is an I-You relationship with our Creator. There is all the difference in the world.
How sad that a truth as grand and beautiful as this is reduced to spirituality and gender conflicts when it is intended to teach the transcending of both. Maybe this is the ultimate blinding of our eyes by our pride and prejudice toward one another: We make it all about us rather than all about God. He revealed himself in terms that had meanings by analogy so that we could relate to a concept, not be distracted by it. We still make the same mistakes the earlier religionists made. “Why are you violating our Sabbath laws?” Is it any different for us to raise our contemporary cultural or religious prejudices in asking the wrong questions?
Jesus said, “I desire mercy, not sacrifice.” Think of the scene on the days of national sacrifice when thousands of lambs were sacrificed and the blood flowed out of the temple in rivers as new families poured into it to offer their own sacrifices. The same people could leave the temple and go back to exploiting the poor and the needy. The temple blinds us to the reality of our own hearts, making us think we have done all we need to do to be right with God. But the God who made us can see what is in our hearts beyond the sacrifices we have made and the laws we have kept in his name.