Readings:
Exodus 20:1—7
Psalm 19
I Corinthians 1:18—25
John 2:13—22

Is this the Jesus who came to bring healing, hope, and peace to the world? What a story! Apparently, an important story. Jesus’ temper tantrum in the temple is found in all four Gospels. The writers of Matthew, Mark, and Luke, however, tell us that the merchants in the temple were thieves, cheating people out of money. The writer of John says nothing about robbers and stealing. Those other writers also place Jesus’ purging of the temple late in their Gospels, near the end of their stories, just before Jesus is arrested.

But not John . . .

This story of an angry Jesus comes right near the beginning of John’s Gospel. In John’s story, Jesus is baptized, tempted, goes to a wedding, and then, bam! He arrives in the temple, shoutin’ and fumin’ and mad as a wet hen! John’s Jesus begins his ministry with anger, with a stern call to righteousness. He is cleaning up his Father’s house, preserving the holiness of the temple, clearing out the sacred space.

Sacred space.

In 1851, the Treaty of Fort Laramie designated hundreds of acres of land around the confluence of the South Platte and Cherry Creek to the Arapahoe tribe of American Indians.

No one cared . . .

No one cared until 7 years later, in 1858 when gold was discovered in the region. In 1861, Araphoe chiefs were misled into ceding most of the land back to the United States. The Arapahoe retained a small piece of land along Sand Creek.

In 1864, 150 year ago, troops led by Colonel John Chivington attacked the Cheyenne and Arapahoe who were peacefully encamped on this  land. The Sand Creek Massacre claimed the lives of 200 Cheyenne and Arapaho people, mostly women and children.

Fifteen years after the Sand Creek Massacre, Danish Lutherans arrived in Denver. The Danes ultimately built Bethany Danish Lutheran Church in Denver in 1913, on land stolen from the Cheyenne and Arapahoe people about 50 years earlier.

Sacred space . . .

The congregation remained active for 60 years, until the church closed in 1973. The building was returned to the Synod. Lutheran Social Services of Colorado moved their offices into the facility for several years. In 1986, the beginning of what would become the Four Winds American Indian Community began using the building, at the invitation of the Synod, rent free for worship, and as a community center for urban American Indians.

No one cared . . .

No one cared until about three years ago when the historic building was suddenly worth a lot of money.

Sacred space . . .

A buyer offered the synod $1,000,000 for the property. Sale of the building would force Four Winds out of their home, off of their sacred space. A struggle commenced. There was no whip of cords or overturning of tables or shouting, I’m glad to say. There was, however, struggle. Would the Lutherans let go of this space? Would the $1,000,000 of potential income be forfeited? Was Four Winds willing and able to accept the space?

What would become of this sacred space where wakes and funerals, weddings and talking circles happened for 26 years? 26 years of ceremonies, political activism, sobriety groups, parenting classes, activities for young people? Would truth lead to justice, justice to reconciliation, reconciliation to peace? The American Indians and the Lutherans struggled together off and on for three years.

They listened to one another’s stories.

They heard one another’s hopes and dreams.

They came together to laugh and cry, pray and sing in sacred spaces.

On Saturday, January 31, 2015, members of the Four Winds Council met with the Rocky Mountain Synod Council at the Office of the Bishop in Denver. The Synod Council voted unanimously to transfer the deed for the property to the Four Winds American Indian Council. On March 28, a ceremony to transfer the property will take place at the site. What does this mean? This means the Lutherans will return sacred ground to American Indian people, sacred ground that was never really ours to begin with.

Wonder what will happen when we pursue truth, justice, reconciliation, and peace, when we come out of hiding, turn our faces and rush toward God, when we leap into the arms of the one who comes to dispel our darkness, to dispel our darkness with the brilliant light of God’s love?

Sacred ground, sacred space . . .

I served with Pastor Nelson Bock as liason in the struggle. As a liason between the Lutherans and the American Indians over these last three years, I learned many things. I learned something that I think John’s Jesus knew—people often say they want truth, justice, reconciliation, and peace. People say they want these things, however, they want them to come to pass without sacrifice or change or compromise or struggle.

Moving toward the light of truth, justice and reconciliation and peace requires struggle—maybe the overturning of tables, the scattering of coins, for certain the release of comfortable ways of doing things.

Moving toward light requires listening, prayer, energy, thoughtfulness, compromise, and, most of all, moving toward light requires love. We say we want the light of love in our lives. We say we want to share the light of God’s love for us with the world. We want the kind of light John describes earlier in his Gospel, the kind of light that shines in the darkness, the kind of light the darkness cannot overcome. We want the true light that enlightens everyone, the light that comes into the world.

Then when the light of God’s love comes, we cover our eyes, we run away, we hide, too bright we say, too revealing, too challenging, too scary, too hard! The light of God’s love comes, and we run for the cover of darkness. What are we running from? We are running from the revealing light of God’s love. It doesn’t make sense does it? It doesn’t make sense to flee from the light. It’s foolish to run from love.

But that’s what we do.

We do it when we see a friend or family member or stranger in need and look the other way. We look away from the light of God’s love. We do it when we ourselves are hurting, we hide our wounds, refuse to ask for or accept the help of others. We look away from the light of God’s love.

We do it when we know there is injustice around us, laws and policies that oppress, wrongs that must be righted. We shrug our shoulders and look the other way, we look away from the light of God’s love. We run and hide. . .

What if we stopped running? What if we stopped hiding? What if, instead, we stepped into the light, turned our faces toward the light? Toward the warmth of God’s love for us and for all people.

It is foolishness to run. It is the world’s foolishness that tells us to run, to hide from God’s love, to ignore the needs and rights of others, to reject the help of others. The foolishness of the world tells us to run and hide from the light, to run and hide from love.

It is God’s wisdom that calls us to stop, to turn around, to run toward the light, to accept the challenge, to engage the struggle. It is God’s wisdom that calls us out of hiding, calls us to run toward and live in the light of God’s love.

Wonder if any of those merchants in the temple did that? Wonder if any of them stopped running, turned around, found Jesus, confessed their lack of respect for sacred space, asked forgiveness and changed their ways? Wonder if?

Wonder what will happen when we pursue truth, justice, reconciliation, and peace, when we come out of hiding, turn our faces and rush toward God, when we leap into the arms of the one who comes to dispel our darkness, to dispel our darkness with the brilliant light of God’s love?

Amen.