House Rules
THE THIRD SUNDAY IN LENT
Exodus 20:1-17 • Psalm 19 • 1 Corinthians 1:18-25 • John 2:13-22
If you’ve ever stayed at an AirBnB or VRBO, chances are you’ve seen some house rules. They can be quite explicit and non-negotiable: No parties or events. No smoking. No pets. No unregistered guests. No illegal substances on the premises. They might also have requests that if you, as a guest, want to be reviewed equally well, you would be wise to obey. These might start with a “please.” Please don’t eat or drink in the bedrooms, respect the noise curfew, turn off the AC when you go out, respect check-in and check-out times, take extra care of your key, take care of the furnishings, don’t rearrange the furniture, do your dishes, and take the trash out before you leave.[1] House rules are pretty clear themselves and in the understanding of the relationship between home, owner, and guest. Like rules and regulations that bring order to our infrastructure, commerce, and any other system or institution in society, we follow them for things to work well, for everyone to get along.
And thankfully the rules change over time. Not even 50 years ago, I wouldn’t be standing in this pulpit as a priest. About 60 years ago we were trying to figure out integration; this Sunday marks the anniversary of Bloody Sunday in Selma, Alabama. I’ll not recount history through the millenia, but at least 1200 years before Christ, Hebrews were delivered from their slavery in Egypt, their exodus passed down to us in Holy Scripture. A lot happened in the intervening 3000 years, and through it all we still have the ten commandments, the decalogue. Couldn’t we consider them house rules for the people of God? These are the rules by which our relationship with God and one another are guided on this, our fragile island home.
The thing about house rules, I’ve noticed, is that they are often viewed as a suggestion–a yellow light, if you will, or maybe even orange. What’s a couple of friends, a pet that doesn’t shed, a smoke on the back porch, an “I’ll-be-really-careful,” and who really notices? I promise you, the host notices; the host knows. We don’t notice because we can’t see past our own self-interest, or we’ve gotten so far away from the rules we don’t even know what they are any more. We might not be walking through the wilderness out of slavery in Egypt, but we’re in our own wilderness of Lent. We are not always mindfully deciding whether or not we’re going to follow faithfully the one who brings us liberation, our very salvation.
We like the commandments in theory. We like the specificity of putting God first and having rules to follow to guide our relationships. These are rules we can get behind and post everywhere for all to see. And then we live our lives. We get tired and forgetful. We get focused on work and family. We get more tired and stressed. Is anyone following any of the rules? We make choices that aren’t great, and we might even choose which rules we want to follow and which aren’t as important as the others. It’s not like we have a security deposit we’re getting back on this life. There’s no penalty, per se, if we don’t follow the rules. But when it’s convenient for us, we can judge others for not following the rules. Right?
And then there’s Jesus making a whip of cords right there in the middle of the temple. With a crack of a whip, everything scatters. Everything is upended. The disciples think that Jesus is zealous for the house of God, for the temple, and the Jews ask for a sign. But Jesus’s zeal isn’t for the house or temple: it’s for his Body.
In staff meeting this week it was mentioned that it’s easier to read this gospel passage and focus on Jesus’s righteous anger for extortion of the vulnerable, whether they’re being charged predatory prices for the animals for sacrifice or are up-charged for the exchange for temple currency. We love to see Jesus fighting injustice head-on, with a whip in hand, no less. Harder to see, let alone accept, is Jesus telling all of us that we’ve got it wrong.
There’s not enough livestock nor gold in the world to make amends for how off-track we are. We’ve broken all the rules, and our host knows. Where does that leave us? Wandering in the wilderness forever, eternally cast out, weighed by our own golden calves?
I’d rather think of Jesus’s whip like Wonder Woman’s Lasso of Truth, and with its crack, Jesus has our attention. With self-reflection we know who we are and choices we’ve made throughout our lives. With honesty we can likely imagine a way forward continuing along our way however we desire, and, if we choose, we can imagine an alternate way where our house has been cleared and the tables turned so that God is at the head of the table. We may prefer to think of repentance and reconciliation as quiet and confessional, but sometimes there’s a ruckus. We might like to think of Jesus’s mercy as transactional, of our offenses as no big deal, but to Jesus, to God, everything is on the line.
Where we are right now is exactly where we are supposed to be, I’m certain of it, and where we go from here is our choice, though how we go from here makes all the difference. We can make up long lists, longer excuses and bigger loopholes, for our own rules we abide by, but Jesus already summed it all up for us: Love the Lord your God with all your heart, mind, soul, and strength…and love your neighbor as yourself. As simple as it sounds, we even get it wrong when we’re trying to do it right.
The wisdom of the world would probably call upon natural selection, let us claim the Darwin award, and fall to our demise. Thankfully we have a foolish God, at least foolish in the eyes of the world. It doesn’t make sense to give all your love for a world that may not love you back, to sacrifice everything near and dear to provide infinite grace and mercy to those who are endlessly reckless and ungrateful. Unconditional love doesn’t make sense unless one completely surrenders into it, even unto death on a cross.
Our house rules rest upon the premise of our love and dependence upon God. Our time in Lent seeks to illuminate what in our life interferes with our relationship to God first and possibly to others, too. It could be that we don't need a table turned but a mirror held so that we don’t focus on all that is wrong but actually acknowledge what is good. What is good is humbly standing in holy space with Jesus, with everything clear and true, receiving love and blessing to begin again, to go forward in love, following this foolish way of the cross, with the house rules written on our heart. Our Creator, our God, our Host is so glad we are here.
[1] Sample House Rules list from HostTools.com: https://hosttools.com/blog/short-term-rental-tips/airbnb-house-rules/
© 2024 The Rev. Sara Milford
St. Paul’s Episcopal Church – Fayetteville, Arkansas