(Mark 11:11–26): The barren Fig tree, the driving out of the usurers money-changers, Faith as a magnet, Prayer, Forgiveness: a Space of Encounter
The curse spoken by Jesus (vv. 13–14) precedes the expulsion of the money-changers from the Temple, which had become a den of thieves and usurers (vv. 15–17).
It was the spark needed to set in motion the revolution against the sanctimonious institutions that were stifling people’s lives.
Christ is not a devout and obedient son of his culture and religion, but an adult who risks being disliked – without any inferiority complex towards the established traditional chain of command.
Thus, the barren fig tree in this Gospel passage is not merely Israel: above all, it is a symbol of the Sanctuary – brimming with magnificence yet devoid of tenderness. It did not make hearts beat faster or leap with joy; rather, it excluded (precisely) the weak.
But it was its twilight (v.11): the Lord prefers to make an exodus towards a small family setting, where he could breathe freely; a place of only brothers and sisters. In Bethany, that creeping sense of compromise did not prevail!
Only within that fundamental and dialectical ray of light, by no means immature, does Christ – who leaves the Temple with his own – reveal himself as the jealous (authentic) guardian of the sacred place, which has sadly become a sprawling organisation.
Having recognised that oppressive root – with no further chance of conversion – shortly afterwards he will be forced to announce its downfall (13:1–2). A free and striking insight: the Master does not merely proclaim a makeover, as everyone else did – even the prophets, who ultimately contented themselves with preaching a (mere) purification.
In short: the Father would have hoped for the tasty, tender and sweet fruits of love from his people, but he had to be content with the leaves (v.13) which ended up covering up repugnant realities – starting precisely with the class of profiteers in the House of God.
The transformation of the Temple in Jerusalem into a marketplace reflects the state of affairs in many places of worship in antiquity: just as elsewhere.
For this reason, Jesus proclaims the primacy of personal Faith over formal devotional appearances (vv. 22–24), where the ruling classes recycle everything (and force the voiceless to swallow their squalid fare).
Those most affected and oppressed by the ambiguous aspects of this theatrical and disgusting situation were precisely the insecure strata of the population – who, for the ‘required’ offerings, could turn not to the sellers of livestock, but to those selling doves (towards whom the Master’s wrath is directed: v.15).
It was the vulnerable who were the true sacrificial victims of the fine official religious system: those brainwashed by the fear of God and by fears of their own unworthiness (instilled drop by drop by self-serving false guides).
The needy were like flocks sacrificed to the logic of the institution—seized by vigilant customs officers—solely in the service and to the extent, always formally indirect, of their own (unfaithful) sustenance.
The merchants were the linchpin and the primary targeted accomplices of the entire supply chain that the priests skimmed off, established and sanctified out of self-interest. After all, a large part of the population of the holy city lived off the economic spin-offs of the Temple (‘fig tree’ bearing inedible fruit).
In short: ancient devotion and its sordid business of ambiguous trafficking milked and fleeced the lives of the naive masses; and together with obsessions over failure to fulfil one’s duties, it gave the people no respite (weighed down, unfulfilled, unhappy).
(Faced with the titanic, artificial efforts of certain proposals, even ecclesiastical ones, young people today immediately realise that expending so much energy to struggle against one’s own personal vocational character, only to become a functionary of the sacred or one of its supporters, is not worth it).
For this reason, the chosen people have become barren, and so has the core of their identity – now a withered tree (vv. 20–21).
The authorities’ gaze was fixed on ambitions – they had everything except the idea of the house of prayer (v. 17) as a living sanctuary and a place of universal encounter.
There Jesus realised (it was obvious) that his people had lost the fruitfulness to which they had been called by the Father’s plan – once and for all.
A barrenness linked to established mechanisms, regarded as an inalienable right acquired by the caste of ‘managers’ without any renewal.
This has nothing to do with genuine Faith, which is not ideological assent, but an exceptional and unconventional relationship and gesture: it throws the door wide open even to severe, cutting, unprofitable judgements.
It starts from a Vision and takes it on board (v.24), drawing it in like a magnet: actualising and anticipating the future; uncovering astonishing, eccentric wonders precisely in what conformist religion considers impure, illicit, unadorned, inappropriate, and improper.
Non-remunerative.
Let alone imagine that a people without strategic weight, devoid of military or diplomatic support, lacking any real means of deterrence, could supplant the pyramidal, ‘ideal’ and productive mechanisms of tradition and empire.
And to provide a new global Message on the face of God and humanity... As impossible as imagining a mountain sinking of its own accord into the sea (v.23).
By exploiting and impoverishing the vulnerable, any opportunistic regime or disembodied religion shows that it does not love what is human: the poverty of the simple.
Feeling no passion of the soul and perceiving no impulse of the heart to engage on behalf of the needy, no one ventures any longer into the adventure of Faith-Love in its entirety – a gamble that spills over into extravagant behaviour, yet nonetheless activates another realm.
Faith that risks Love is this: nothing soft – even open dispute with the leaders of ritual officialdom. It is not the dullness of the accommodating, saccharine diplomat, mannered, never rude, who says and does not say, seems but does not act.
And the same applies to its unique expression in prayer (v.24): a bold move – even a biting one – that follows the Listening to a God who reveals himself in the soul of the envoy, without staging too many external spectacles.
From this deeply friendly connection springs a personal involvement and a particular sensitivity, which become intense Dialogue, Image-Vision, growing Discovery, and proactive Action.
Only from a mind shaped by instinct and vocation will spontaneous forgiveness then arise (vv. 25–26): for the gaze of one who has allowed unexpected energies to enter is already shifted far beyond the spite received, or indeed the latter has itself been its fertile matrix.
Faith and Prayer are therefore not (as in normalised, mundane piety) intimate and stagnant realities, but rather the driving force behind great—even epoch-making—novelties.
Jesus’ final stay in Jerusalem brings with it the sacred and inviolable words of his critical Testament, and of the judgement upon the unfaithful (yet observant) land of Judea – disloyal to its own former calling.
Even after his Resurrection, Jesus will choose Galilee (16:7).
The symbols of saved life (the life of the saved) for all the peoples of the earth have become sterile, shutting themselves away in their own world of prescriptions, bearing no delicate fruit – save that of appearances.
Indeed, they even prevent access to the ‘house of prayer for all nations’ (v. 17).
It is the comparison between Temple and Person, doctrine and Faith, discipline and behaviour, presumption and authentic Encounter.
A comparison analogous to the one that remains entirely relevant today between institution and uniqueness, representation and reality, flag and ‘sacrament’ (generous).
The Tao Te Ching (XLIX) says: ‘The Sage has no unchanging heart: his heart is the heart of the hundred surnames (...) The Sage stands in the world all fearful, and for the world he makes his heart promiscuous.’
In commentary, Master Ho-shang Kung adds: ‘The Sage makes his heart promiscuous and muddies it, as if he were stupid and ignorant.’
For biblical faith – acutely personal – what truly matters is discovering God who reveals himself on one’s own path (even one made up of base and opposing elements).
Therefore, to yield and allow oneself to be led – not to represent him through magnificent yet empty displays.
Liberation and Personalisation: the difference between religiosity and Faith
Little House of God or place of business? No more haggling
(Lk 19:45–48)
Jesus noted that an entire ambiguous structure of sin had developed around the activities taking place within the Temple precincts.
The Sanctuary’s commercial greed was not even concealed – indeed, it was right there in plain sight.
But the priestly vision of holy worship and the people’s hopes for a life of fulfilment were at odds.
The same applied to the aims of the lawyers and scribes, who willingly gathered in particular under Solomon’s Portico [on the other side, to the east] to ‘offer’ their advice.
The exclusive function of fostering an encounter with the presence of God was utterly undermined.
The sacred area had become a den of shrewd merchants, businesspeople perpetually on the prowl, always intent on exchanging currency.
This was with the approval of the ruling Sadducee faction, who could not resist the temptation to pull the strings of the lucrative trade.
In driving out the false friends of the merciful Father, these parasites of religiosity, the Lord is not so much concerned with restoring the purity of the Place, nor with patching up and reviving the lustre of the original, austere worship – as the Prophets had indeed desired.
He renders a holy service not to the ancient God (as in religions) but to the people – rendered by that system [or tangle] utterly unaware of their own vocational dignity: merely chained, milked, and shorn.
In fact, the Zealots aimed to restore the purity of the rites. They imagined that they could somehow recover their coherence.
The Essenes, on the other hand, had completely abandoned the Temple. They considered the shameful situation to be beyond redemption.
John the Baptist had made the same break.
Although of priestly lineage, he preached to the people the forgiveness of sins through a conversion of life, not through the sacrifices of the liturgy [only in Jerusalem].
The true Angel of the Covenant, however, was definitively uncompromising, far more radical than all of them!
Indeed, according to the very first Christians, who still frequented the Temple—the place of encounter with God, the land from which His Love radiated—it was no longer bound to material aspects.
Nor was it religious in itself; much less was it steeped in doctrinal observances, moralistic codes, or one-sided worldviews.
In this way, for us too, the divine Presence and its Communion are not to be found in mythical purity, in ancient magnificence, in perfectionist endeavours – or in keeping up with the latest trends.
Service to God is an honour for women and men just as they are and wherever they are: sacred respect springs from a Gift that already permeates our lives. Opinions are of no use.
The unknown Friend wishes to dwell within us not to take possession, but to merge with us and expand our relational and qualitative capacities. Our own, not those of others or as an afterthought.
In Christ, from obedience to more or less outdated rules [even if they were to be future-oriented], we move towards a style of personal likeness. That which builds living sanctuaries.
Honour to the Father is realised not in the details or in a pre-established esprit de corps, but in the sons and daughters, in any case – if they live in brotherhood.
This happens especially when they assimilate Jesus’ Teaching [on Grace] (v.47).
Thus, over time, they learn conviviality from Him, and together they are encouraged to engage in dialogue with their exceptional and unique Vocation, which captivates because it truly corresponds.
And this inner conviction is the sole, incomparable and precious energy of transformative power – which leads one not to retreat from oneself, from one’s own exceptionality, nor to overlook the reality of one’s brothers and sisters.
Rather, it leads one to make an Exodus, to explore new conditions of being, to transfigure perception into blissful action.
Only from this does coexistence arise.
And Sin remains indeed a deviation, but no longer a transgression of the law – rather an inability to respond to the Call that characterises, unleashes and empowers a surprising uniqueness of Relationship.
The first Tabernacle of God is therefore humanity itself, its beating heart – not a space of stones and bricks, fixed, delimited, or fanciful… to be adorned with superimposed embellishments.
Upon entering Jerusalem, the Master takes possession of the heavenly House – which is not the Temple, but the People.
For this reason, He drives out of the imaginative sacredness instilled in the naive precisely the most miseducational aspects of the festival – and especially teaches the infirm to feel already adequate!
Incredible: Christ changes the mental atmosphere of each person.
The true Lord does not teach us to don habitual, abstract or formal armour – acceptable to those around us but distant from ourselves, from creatures.
Rather, He urges us not to stifle our true nature with the cloaks of convention [whether outdated or not] according to which ‘it is never enough’.
Behind our essential character lies a fruitful, unique, singular Calling; with visual and social implications we do not yet know.
Just as we are – exactly as we are – we are fine.
There is no need to exorcise anything from our deepest being, which spontaneously manifests its suppressed discomforts and joyful correspondences, even in outward eccentricities.
Rather, any conventional, superficial domestication – whether for adaptation or cunning – stifles the core of the Call by Name – the authentic Guide, the impulse of the Spirit.
Our inner world must not be hysterically regarded as a dangerous stranger to be reconfigured.
Our innate roots and natural energy have the right to flourish and prevail over common manners or ideas: they are an experiential trace of the Divine.
In them lies a Personal bond.
The Lord’s claim is immediately met with hostility from the pompous, who are concerned with the give-and-take of that mannerist charade.
They portray him as unbalanced, to be eliminated at once: a most dangerous dreamer, because he activates and uplifts souls, rather than the structure of mediation.
Here is the condemnation meted out by society’s ‘great ones’: the outcome of every operation of truth.
Thus, attempts are made to stifle any endeavour towards the emancipation of those oppressed in spirit, at the core of their being – whether out of fear of God or an obsession with unworthiness.
But in the present reality, which is hot on our heels, the Risen One continues to demystify the excessive concern for identified places, the “high places” of a settled and material nature.
With their implications that do not nourish fully and stably – on the contrary, they become a worm.
In short, we must change our approach.
He Himself is the essential point of worship of the Eternal One.
In this light of the Person within His Person, each of us can embrace proposals that are not imposed by others or intrusive; that will not become a burden.
And the authentic prestige of the Church will be to echo the Proclamation that truly liberates and delights.
Obviously provoking the same commercial tensions; a litmus test of our divine action.
Through the work of apostles frightened by the brusque manner of the authorities, and perhaps themselves prone to compromise – the magnificent sanctuary that Jesus had explicitly defined as a den of thieves will once again become the centre of the ecclesial assembly [Lk 24:53; Acts 5:12].
It will be the tragic history of the holy city, rather than a burning conscience, that will most effectively cause its excessive importance to wane.
Even today: the phantasmagorical ancient pinnacle is becoming a periphery, it is decaying. And we struggle to find ourselves.
An opportunity not to be missed to proceed in a living and singular way, in harmony with an ever-new teaching on unprecedented Love, which matches our pace.
It is the burning Appeal of ‘the Mount’, centred on passion: precisely on Desire.
No longer a stern rebuke to the ‘no’s’ of grand appearances – but finally Listening to the Voice within the soul, which amazes (v.48).
The authentic sacredness of the temple.
Jesus’ teaching in that venerable place is presented in Luke 19:47 as enduring: ‘he was teaching every day’ [Greek text].
Through the Word that does not remain on high but shares in our humanity (finally opened wide), He finds His Temple again today.
A dwelling cleared of ancient and new hunters.
He desires only his People – women and men freed from the den of thieves [Jer 7:11; Lk 19:46] which still attempts to penetrate the nature of our relationships.
Paraphrasing the encyclical Fratelli Tutti (no. 226), we gladly reiterate with Pope Francis: ‘ there is no longer any room for empty diplomacy, for dissimulation, double-talk, concealment, or polite manners that hide the (irritating) reality’ of those in business with God.
The rubbish must be cleared away. The stakes are too high and too personal.
We no longer haggle over what does not correspond, even from a cultural, social and spiritual point of view.
To internalise and live out the message:
Do you still need set times, designated places, acts of atonement and propitiation, or do you feel a living relationship with God?
What is your House of Prayer?
Churches of service, not supermarkets.
The most important temple of God is our heart
‘Churches of service, churches of grace, just as salvation was free, and not “supermarket churches”’: Pope Francis did not mince his words in highlighting the relevance today of Jesus’ act of driving the merchants from the temple. And ‘vigilance, service and grace’ are the three key words he emphasised during the Mass celebrated on Friday 24 November at Santa Marta.
“Both readings in today’s liturgy,” explained the Pontiff, “speak to us of the temple, indeed of the purification of the temple.” Drawing on the passage from the First Book of Maccabees (4:36–37, 52–59), the Pope noted how “after the defeat of the forces sent by Antiochus Epiphanes to paganise the people, Judas Maccabeus and his brothers sought to purify the temple—that temple where pagan sacrifices had taken place—and to restore the spiritual beauty of the temple, the sacredness of the temple”. For this reason, “the people were joyful”. Indeed, the biblical text states that “the joy of the people was very great, for the disgrace of the pagans had been wiped out”. Thus, the Pope added, “the people rediscover their law, they rediscover their very being; the temple once again becomes the place of encounter with God”.
“Jesus does the same when he drives out those who were selling in the temple: he purifies the temple,” said Francis, referring to the Gospel passage from Luke (19:45–48). In doing so, the Lord restores the temple “as it ought to be: pure, for God alone and for the people who come to pray.” But, for our part, “how do we purify the temple of God?” The answer, said the Pope, lies in “three words that can help us understand. First: vigilance; second: service; third: gratuitousness”.
“Vigilance”, therefore, is the first word suggested by the Pontiff: “It is not only the physical temple, the buildings, the temples that are God’s temples: the most important temple of God is our heart, our soul” . So much so, the Pope pointed out, that St Paul tells us: “You are the temple of the Holy Spirit.” Therefore, Francis added, “the Holy Spirit dwells within us.”
And it is precisely “for this reason that the first word” proposed by Francis is, in fact, “vigilance.” From this arise some questions for an examination of conscience: “What is happening in my heart? What is happening within me? How do I behave towards the Holy Spirit? Is the Holy Spirit just one more of the many idols I have within me, or do I care for the Holy Spirit? Have I learnt to be vigilant within myself, so that the temple in my heart may be for the Holy Spirit alone?’
Hence, then, the importance of ‘purifying the temple, the inner temple, and being vigilant’, the Pope affirmed. With an explicit invitation: “Be careful, be mindful: what is happening in your heart? Who comes, who goes… What are your feelings, your thoughts? Do you speak with the Holy Spirit? Do you listen to the Holy Spirit?” It is, therefore, a matter of “being vigilant: being mindful of what is happening in our temple, within us”.
The “second word is service,” the Pontiff continued. “Jesus,” he recalled, “makes us understand that he is present in a special way in the temple of those in need.” And “he says it clearly: he is present in the sick, those who suffer, the hungry, the imprisoned; he is present there.” Regarding the word “service” too, Francis suggested some questions to ask oneself: “Do I know how to guard that temple? Do I care for the temple through my service? Do I draw near to help, to clothe, to console those in need?”
“St John Chrysostom,” Francis noted, “rebuked those who made many offerings to adorn and beautify the physical temple but did not care for the needy: he rebuked them and said: ‘No, this is not right; service comes first, then adornment.’” In short, we are called to “purify the temple that is others.” And to do this well, we must ask ourselves: “How do I help to purify that temple?” The answer is simple: “Through service, through service to the needy. Jesus himself says that he is present there.” And “he is present there,” the Pope explained, “and when we approach to offer service, to help, we resemble Jesus who is there within.”
In this regard, Francis confided that he had “seen a beautiful icon of Simon of Cyrene helping Jesus carry the cross: looking closely at that icon, Simon of Cyrene had the same face as Jesus”. Therefore, “if you guard that temple which is the sick person, the prisoner, the needy and the hungry, your heart too will be more like that of Jesus.” Precisely “for this reason, guarding the temple means service.”
“The first word, vigilance,” the Pontiff summarised, expresses something that “happens within us.” Whilst “the second word” leads us towards “service to the needy: that is to purify the temple”. And “the third word that comes to mind,” he continued, “when reading the Gospel is gratuitousness”. In the Gospel passage, Jesus says: “My house shall be a house of prayer. But you have made it a den of thieves”. Keeping these words of the Lord in mind, the Pope said, “how often do we enter a church with sadness — think of a parish, a bishop’s residence — and we do not know whether we are in the house of God or in a supermarket: there are businesses there, there is even a price list for the sacraments” and “gratuitousness is lacking”.
But “God has saved us freely; he has not made us pay anything,” the Pontiff insisted, urging us to help ensure “that our churches, our parishes, are not supermarkets: that they are houses of prayer, that they are not dens of thieves, but that they offer free service.” Of course, the Pope added, some might object that “we need money to maintain the buildings and we also need money to feed the priests and catechists”. The Pope’s response is clear: “Give freely and God will do the rest; God will provide what is lacking”.
“To guard the temple,” Francis stated, “means this: vigilance, service and generosity.” First of all, “vigilance in the temple of our heart: what happens there, being attentive because it is the temple of the Holy Spirit.” Then, “service to the needy,” he repeated, also suggesting a reading of chapter 25 of the Gospel of Matthew. Service also “to the hungry, the sick, the imprisoned, and those in need, for Christ is there”, always with the certainty that “the person in need is the temple of Christ”.
Finally, the Pope concluded, the “third” point is “gratuitousness in the service offered in our churches: churches of service, churches that are free, just as salvation was free, and not ‘supermarket churches’”.
[Pope Francis, Santa Marta, in L’Osservatore Romano 25/11/2017]
