Scroll VI
CHAPTER XI
Fueling the Flame

On another day in this final week in the Temple, Jesus preached a sermon.

Not many think of it as a sermon, but that is what it was. It was a sermon that changed something deep inside me. I made copious notes of it as he spoke, and I have kept them to this day. It was many years ago, but I still remember it as if it were only a day away.

They first started calling us Christians in the city of Antioch, but now it has become a common name for us. I confess, I do not much like it. It makes one appear as if he is in a society, a religious corpus, and carries its own rather ugly elitism. It was intended to be a snide, debasing term of ridicule. "Little Christs," it meant, as if we were all puppets manipulated by attachments to Christ.

They never saw that our devotion, our allegiance to Jesus was, and is now, not driven by our coercive need to join a movement but comes as a result of his astounding love for us. Isn't a thirsty deer drawn to a quiet stream, or isn't a bear in the mountains drawn to the honeycomb? He gave, he gives, life, nourishment, hope. How could we not follow him!? Whatever leviathan may lurk in the stream, or however painful the sting, being with him mitigates completely all that might cause discomfort or all that may raise a threat to this life.

In any case, unfortunately, Christianity is becoming yet another religion. That is not what Jesus wanted. He wanted his followers to exemplify love and intimacy of spirit with each other and with him, not promote yet another form of legalism and institutionalism. It is through love, based on faith and belief, that rescue and liberation come'not through a stylized belief system.

I've thought, at times when I was younger, that I might have made a difference in the direction the church has taken had I been chosen as one of the twelve. I could have resisted the impulse to organize, to make rules, to institutionalize. I might have influenced James or even our brother Paul.

But then again, maybe not.

Men are drawn to structure. This compulsion to quantify and control, this need to assume the role of Authority, has been a part of human heritage since Adam.

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Well into this final week, Jesus' sermon took place on the Temple steps. He was ready. He was, as the momentum built toward the crucifixion, building the fire, stoking the flames, fueling the blaze. It seemed that every action, every word at this point was deliberately devised to insure his death.

"You teachers of the law," he began, "and religious officials who sit in the office of Moses. You people set yourselves up as the definers and interpreters of the law. It is a nice arrangement for you. Since your own cultic penchant has allowed you to do this, you must now be obeyed'at least until the liberty of the Spirit comes. But be careful. You are all men of flawed character; you do not practice what you preach.

"Everything you do is done for men to see. You make your religious symbols conspicuous. You love the place of honor at banquets and the most important seats in the synagogue. You love to be greeted in the marketplaces and to have men call you 'A Holy Man,' but you are anything but 'Holy.' There is only one who is 'Holy,' and it is not you. In the quiet of your room, you know this, but your arrogance and conceit is more important to you."

Embers of indignation grew into hot coals as they listened to him preach. They were seething! Crowds began to gather. I was beginning to wonder: What was Jesus doing? But he knew exactly what he was doing.

Stirring the seething coals of their anger further, he continued, "Teachers of the law are you? You hypocrites! I say you are all insufferable, pious bureaucrats, because you slam the door to the kingdom of heaven in men's faces. You keep people from coming to God. You yourselves do not come to him, nor will you let those who are trying to come do so. You travel over land and sea to win a single soul, and when you win him, you make him twice as much the child of hell as you are."

Furiously shouting threats came at him from the crowd. Their hatred for him burned hotter with each word. Yet, Jesus seemed to enjoy this. It seemed that all the sanctimonious injustice in the world was being massacred by his words. As we disciples, on the other hand, tried to fade into the crowd in fear, Jesus stood authoritatively, continuing his attack. Metaphorically speaking, you could see the moneychangers tables pushed over, you could see the coins fly, you could feel the lash of his hand-made scourge.

"You are all blind guides! Blinded by your greed! Greed for money, greed for power, greed for status! 'If anyone swears by the church, you say it has no meaning, but if anyone swears to pledge money to the church he is bound by his oath.' You blind fools! Which is greater, the money, or faith in God? You say, 'If anyone swears by the altar, it means nothing, but if anyone swears to place money on it, he is bound by his oath.' Which is greater, the money or the altar that makes the money sacred? Listen! He who swears by the altar swears by it and by everything on it. And he who swears by heaven swears by God's throne and by the One who sits on it. But I say to you as I have said before; Swear not at all! You haven't the stomach or the character to make it good."

Another log on the flames.

At this they tried to break through the crowd to seize him; the crowd, enjoying the attack, prevented them from getting near him. The shouting got louder. So did Jesus' assault.

"You clean the outside of the cup and dish, but inside you are full of greed and self-indulgence. Blind, sanctimonious legalsits! You don't even consider that to clean the inside of your hearts will clean the outside as well.

"You are like whitewashed tombs! You spend much time on how you look, but on the inside you are full of putrid, dead bones and stinking flesh. On the outside you appear to people as righteous, holy and pure, but on the inside you are full of hypocrisy and wickedness. Such as you have no part with God." By this time we were terribly frightened. It became apparent that Jesus had a certain death wish. We knew that this preaching would not be tolerated by the powers that be. We watched in fear as he continued, as the flames of his own invective leapt high.

"You make monuments of the prophet's tombs and decorate the graves of the righteous. Then you piously intone, 'If we had lived in the days of our forefathers, we would not have taken part with them in shedding the blood of the prophets.' Yet, by your actions, you prove that you are the descendants of those who murdered the prophets! Fill up, then, the measure of the evil of your forefathers! How are you different than they?

"You vicious, poisonous snakes! You brood of vipers! I send you prophets and wise men and teachers and you kill them with your venom! You crucify them; you flog them and pursue them from town to town. So now understand this, upon you will come all the righteous blood that has been shed on earth, from the blood of righteous Abel to the blood of Zechariah son of Berekiah, whom you murdered between the Temple and the altar."

Enough. Enough had been said to accomplish what needed to be done. Enough to keep the flames of hatred burning high.

Jesus stood quietly for a long time. He looked up at the Temple, his eyes slowly scanning the city. A hush fell over the crowd in anticipation of what he might do or say next. Finally he spoke so softly we all had to strain to hear, but somehow we heard every word.

"O City of God, you who kill the prophets and stone those sent to you, how often I have longed to gather your children together, as a hen gathers her chicks under her wings, but you were not willing. Look, your house is left to you desolate. For I tell you, you will not see me again until you say, 'Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord.'"

Are you not intellectually slain by this!? Some benighted fools, bankrupt of spiritual awareness, declare that Jesus was insane; that he was a narcissistic, full-of-himself lunatic. Whether this is absurdity is rational or not, would seem to depend on certifiable witnesses. I am one of those. I am Joseph bar Sabbas, called Justus, and I can tell you that his teachings were profound; that his miracles were palpable and real. I can mark the terrible phenomena of his crucifixion. I, myself, entered the empty tomb and can testify that he is risen. I saw him, touched him for myself after his resurrection. I witnessed his ascension back to his Father. I saw him. I heard him. I believe in him. And with each heartbeat, I live in constant communion with him. Oh, dear reader, can you not know this for yourself?

Exhausted but satisfied, Jesus turned and deliberately walked right through the crowd . . . unmolested and unharmed. The listeners, for all their wounds, made way for him to pass. We scrambled to catch up as he made his way to a quiet place we all knew.