At the Temple (Luke 2: 22-40)

Let’s go for a walk. It’s always good to go for a post-holiday walk, to work off some of the extra calories we’ve consumed during family get-togethers and parties.

Let’s go for a walk. In fact, let’s walk with Mary and Joseph and their 5 ½ week-old baby Jesus. They are walking to Jerusalem – a rather long walk, actually; a multi-day journey.

You may ask why anyone with a 5 ½ week-old baby would take such a journey. The answer to that is found in the ancient book of Leviticus.

Leviticus states: forty days after the birth of a male child, the woman’s days of purification will be complete. At that time, she shall bring to the priest a lamb in its first year, and a pigeon or turtledove, for an offering. If she cannot afford a lamb, then two pigeons or two turtledoves will suffice.

Faithful to their Jewish faith, Mary and Joseph, along with their baby, are making their way to the Temple in Jerusalem.

Let’s continue walking with them. We’re still several miles away, but if you look, you can easily see the temple rising up in the distance. The massive structure was built atop a hill; walls 50 feet high rise up, encompassing an area as big as 14 football fields. They mark the perimeter of a massive building… and on what could be called the roof of this massive building are more walls surrounding multiple courtyards.

In the center of these courtyards is the Holy Place, a two-room sanctuary used by the priests, which rises up even higher into the sky.

This is the largest man-made structure on earth! How magnificent it appears as we approach Jerusalem… and how beautiful, with its gleaming, polished white and green marble.

For Mary and Joseph, what a difference this is from that dark, dank, drafty, smelly stable where Jesus was born. Six weeks earlier, they had journeyed to Bethlehem, but could not find a place to stay, even though Mary was about to give birth. I’m sure if they had money, they could have found a place; money has a way of opening doors.

But they were poor. Joseph was a carpenter, an artisan, which is actually one step below peasant in the social hierarchy…

Let’s keep walking.

Finally we approach the outer wall of the temple, and we can’t help but reach out with our hands and touch the massive carved rock, and we can’t help but lean our heads back and look up. The wall rises up all the way to the sky!

Outer stairs lead way up to a doorway. We climb them, and enter the opening. Our eyes adjust to the darkness, and we see a large passageway… and more stairs.

We take those stairs up, and up, and up… all the way to the top, and we emerge onto the outer courtyard, the Court of Gentiles.

This courtyard is huge. It is surrounded by massive porticos.

And in the center of the Court of Gentiles is a structure that, by itself, is as large as two football fields. It contains several more courtyards, and the Holy Place.

We walk with Mary and Joseph across the Court of Gentiles to a gate… and there we see a sign, written in Greek, warning non-Jews to pass no further, or they would be put to death.

In the ancient world, everyone had their place in society, and the boundaries that separated people by category were firm. Both Jewish holiness codes and the Roman codes of conduct enforced this separation of people. For the Jews, it was about purity. For the Romans, it was about maintaining social order. Whether Jew or Gentile, male or female, slave or free, everyone had their place in society, and that place needed to be respected.

Mary and Joseph were Jews, so they are allowed into the next courtyard, the court of women. Years later, this court is where Jesus would do most of his teaching, all those times when scripture says he was teaching in the temple. Anytime you read in the gospels about Jesus teaching in the temple, you should picture this courtyard.

This is where the vendors were located. Vendors sold the lambs and turtledoves that weary travelers required in order to make their obligatory sacrifices. 

These vendors wouldn’t accept just any money, however. Roman money bearing the likeness of Caesar was forbidden for temple transactions, so alongside the venders there were also money changers.

Every time money was changed, taxes were levied and profits were made. It was quite a racket. You exchange your Roman money for Jewish coins, and you lose some to taxes and the moneychangers profit. Then you make a purchase from the vendor, but you lose some more money to taxes and the vendor’s profit.

But what choice did a poor couple like Mary and Joseph have? What other options were there? Transporting a lamb or even a pair of turtledoves from back home would have been impossible. Yes, they were being ripped off, but that’s just the way it was.

For Mary and Joseph, A lamb was clearly out of the question.  So they purchased two turtledoves with their hard-earned money, and presented the turtledoves to the priest.

The gospel writer Luke doesn’t really mention the priest. In this whole story, no priest appears.  Where are the priests? Were they in the holy inner chambers, tending to the sacrifices? Perhaps. One would think that, for Jesus, they would make a special appearance, but they don’t give him any attention.

Their attention was focused elsewhere. They knew all too well that it was Herod who built this temple, Herod who continued to oversee its ongoing construction. The temple was Herod’s pet project, to show the world how important he was, and to show the Jews that all good things come from the Roman government. Herod builds the Jews a temple, the Jews behave for Herod.  Herod appoints the priests who are responsible for making sure the Jews behave. The priests are accused by the Jews of collaborating with the oppressor, and it’s true – they were – but what else could they do?

So, in this story, the priest is not a major character. He’s barely there at all.  Just a shadow, with no face, no description, and no name, who pays this poor couple no attention.

On the other hand, there is this man, Simeon, a local resident of the city; and also Anna, a prophet who is a widow.  And because she’s a widow, she apparently has no home. There was no social security, no safety net. Widows almost always found themselves without means of support, and thus, without a home. In Anna’s case, Luke says she lived there at the temple. Perhaps she slept under the colonnade surrounding the courtyard at night.

These are the holy people in Luke’s story: Simeon and Anna. Not the priests. Not the ones who wore fancy clothes. Not the ones who were friends with kings and rulers. Just a common man from the city streets, and a poor, homeless widow.

If you’ve read Luke’s story of Christ’s birth, this really should come as no surprise. Who received the announcement of Christ’s birth? Shepherds. Filthy young men with crude language, I’m sure, who were so desperate to make any kind of a living that they left their homes to go and live out in the countryside, sleeping under the stars as they kept watch over their sheep. 

Where were the priests then? They weren’t at the stable. They weren’t in the countryside ministering to the shepherds. They were busy worrying and working, spending all their energy trying to maintain Herod’s favor so that the mighty fist of Rome doesn’t come crashing down on them.

Which it would seventy years later.

There is so much irony here. The massive, gleaming temple, financed by Herod, overseen by priests in their fancy clothes… and yet Luke pays so little attention to any of that. Luke is not impressed. In fact, Luke is making a emphatic point here, that those whose attention is drawn to the grandeur of the temple miss the truly important thing that is happening here.

And they miss seeing God.

Because God is not in the glitz and the glamour. God is not in the gleaming white and green marble, polished and shining in the sun. God is not in the orchestration of orderly conduct, with separate courtyards for people depending on their status in society … “separate but equal” courtyards.

God is not there in separate but equal.

Here’s a story I heard recently. It may or may not be true, but a story doesn’t have to be true to contain truth…

On a British Airways flight from Johannesburg, a middle-aged, well-off white South African Lady found herself sitting next to a black man. She called the cabin crew attendant over to complain about her seating.

"What seems to be the problem Madam?" asked the attendant.

"Can't you see?" she said." You've sat me next to a black man. I can't possibly sit next to this disgusting human. Find me another seat!"

"Please calm down Madam," the stewardess replied. "The flight is very full today, but I'll tell you what I'll do-I'll go and check to see if we have any seats available in club or first class." The woman cocks a snooty look at the outraged black man beside her.

A few minutes later the stewardess returns with the good news, which she delivers to the lady: "Madam, unfortunately, as I suspected, economy is full. I've spoken to the cabin services director, and club is also full. However, we do have one seat in first class. It is most extraordinary to make this kind of upgrade, however, and I had to get special permission from the captain. But, given the circumstances, the captain felt that it was outrageous that someone be forced to sit next to such an obnoxious person." The attendant then turned to the black man sitting next to the woman, and said: "So if you'd like to get your things, sir, I have your seat ready for you..."

How quickly things get turned upside down.

Luke’s gospel does the exact same thing. As travelers to Jerusalem, our eyes are drawn to the gleaming, polished marble rising to the sky. Our attention is drawn to power, to wealth, to grandeur, to celebrity. Perhaps we even long to go into the Holy Place, or even the Holy of Holies, the innermost chamber, a place so sacred and so exclusive that only the high priest is allowed in, and only once a year.

But Luke says no, no, no. Luke is not impressed by any of that.

Because the real wonder, the real holy of holies, is among the poor, common people.

People like Simeon.

And Anna.

And a baby born in a stable.