Mark 11:15

This account of the many sellers who were cast out of the temple was reported by all the Evangelists, including John, but in his case he introduces it in a completely different order.… John proceeds to tell us that he went up to Jerusalem at the season of the Jews’ passover, and when he had made a scourge of small cords drove out of the temple those who were selling in it. This makes it evident that this act was performed by the Lord not on a single occasion, but twice over. Only in the first instance was it recorded by John, but in the last by the other three.

(de Con. Evan. lib. ii. 67) John, however, relates this in a very different order, wherefore it is manifest that not once only, but twice, this was done by the Lord, and that the first time was related by John, this last, by all the other three.

(de Con. Evan. lib. ii. 68) In this again Mark does not keep the same order as Matthew; because however Matthew connects the facts together by this sentence, And he left them, and went out of the city into Bethany, (Matt. 21:17) returning from whence in the morning, according to his relation, Christ cursed the tree, therefore it is supposed with greater probability that he rather has kept to the order of time, as to the ejection from the temple of the buyers and sellers. Mark therefore passed over what was done the first day when He entered into the temple, and on remembering it inserted it, when he had said that He found nothing on the fig tree but leaves, which was done on the second day, as both testify.

Why do you not recall before the eyes of your mind that our Redeemer, entering the temple, overturned the seats of those selling doves and poured out the money of the money-changers? For who are those in the temple of God today who sell doves, if not those who in the Church receive payment for the imposition of hands? Through which imposition, namely, the Holy Spirit is given from heaven. Therefore the dove is sold, because the imposition of hands, through which the Holy Spirit is received, is offered for a price. But our Redeemer overturned the seats of those selling doves, because he destroys the priesthood of such merchants. For hence it is that the sacred canons condemn the simonian heresy, and command that those be deprived of the priesthood who seek payment for bestowing ordinations. Therefore the seat of those selling doves is overturned when those who sell spiritual grace are deprived of the priesthood, either before human eyes or before the eyes of God.

Having described this, what the Lord did is added: because, entering the temple, he began to cast out those selling and buying in it, saying to them: It is written that my house is a house of prayer, but you have made it a den of thieves. For he who foretold the evils to come and immediately entered the temple to cast out from it those selling and buying, clearly made known that the ruin of the people came chiefly from the fault of the priests. Indeed, in describing the destruction but striking at those selling and buying in the temple, he showed by the very effect of his work whence the root of perdition sprang. Moreover, as we have learned from another evangelist as witness, doves were being sold in the temple. And what is received through doves except the gift of the Holy Spirit? But he expels the sellers and buyers from the temple, because he condemns either those who grant the imposition of hands for a gift, or those who strive to buy the gift of the Spirit.

Just as the temple of God is in the city, so also is the life of religious persons among the faithful people. And often some take up the habit of religion, and when they receive a place in the sacred orders, they turn the office of holy religion into a commerce of earthly business. Those selling in the temple are they who bestow for a reward what rightly belongs to certain persons. For to sell justice is to maintain it in exchange for receiving a reward. Those buying in the temple are they who, while refusing to render to their neighbor what is just, and while disdaining to do what is rightly owed, give a reward to patrons and buy sin.

And they come to Jerusalem. And when he had entered the temple, he began to cast out those who sold and bought in the temple, and he overturned the tables of the money-changers, and the seats of those who sold doves. What the Lord did by cursing the barren fig tree as a symbol, he soon showed more clearly by casting out the wicked from the temple. For the tree did not sin in that it did not have fruit when the Lord was hungry, since the time for fruit had not yet come; but the priests sinned by conducting secular business in the house of the Lord, and they neglected to bear the fruit of piety which they owed, and which the Lord hungered for in them. The Lord withered the tree with a curse, so that those who saw or heard might more greatly understand that they would be condemned by divine judgment if they were without the fruits of deeds, but only relied on the praise of religious speech, or on the appearance and covering of flourishing leaves. But because they did not understand, he then exercised the necessary severity of deserved vengeance upon them. And he cast out the commerce of human affairs from that house, in which it was commanded that only divine things be conducted, sacrifices and prayers be offered to God, the word of God be read, heard, and sung. And indeed it is to be believed that he found only those things being sold or bought in the temple which were necessary for the ministry of the same temple, based on what we read happening elsewhere, when he entered the same temple and found in it sellers and buyers of sheep, oxen, and doves. Clearly, it is to be believed that all these things were bought by those who came from afar from the locals, so that they might be offered in the house of the Lord. If, therefore, the Lord did not even want those things to be sold in the temple which he wanted to be offered in the temple, namely because of the greed or fraud that is usually the crime of merchants, how great a punishment, do you think, would he inflict if he found anyone there engaged in laughter or idle talk, or enslaved to any other vice? For if the Lord does not allow temporal business to be conducted in his house, which can be conducted freely elsewhere, how much more do those things deserve celestial wrath that are not allowed anywhere, if they are conducted in buildings consecrated to God? But because the Holy Spirit appeared upon the Lord in the form of a dove, rightly, the gifts of the Holy Spirit are signified by doves. Who, then, are those in the temple of God today who sell doves, but those in the Church who take a price for the imposition of hands? Through this imposition, namely, the Holy Spirit is given from heaven. Therefore, the dove is sold when the imposition of hands, through which the Holy Spirit is received, is provided for a price. But our Redeemer overturned the seats of those who sold doves, because he destroys the priesthood of such merchants. Hence, sacred canons condemn the Simoniac heresy and command that those who seek a price for conferring ordinations be deprived of the priesthood. Therefore, the seat of those who sell doves is overturned, because those who sell spiritual grace are deprived of the priesthood either before humans or before the eyes of God.

(ubi sup.) What the Lord had done in figure, when He cursed the barren fig tree, He now shows more openly, by casting out the wicked from the temple. For the fig tree was not in fault, in not having fruit before its time, but the priests were blameable; wherefore it is said, And they come to Jerusalem; and Jesus went into the temple, and began to cast out them that sold and bought in the temple. Nevertheless, it is probable that He found them buying and selling in the temple things which were necessary for its ministry. If then the Lord forbids men to carry on in the temple worldly matters, which they might freely do any where else, how much more do they deserve a greater portion of the anger of Heaven, who carry on in the temple consecrated to Him those things, which are unlawful wherever they may be done. It goes on: and overthrew the tables of the moneychangers.

(ubi sup.) Because the Holy Spirit appeared over the Lord in the shape of a dove, the gifts of the Holy Spirit are fitly pointed out under the name of doves. The Dove therefore is sold, when the laying on of hands by which the Holy Spirit is received is sold for a price. Again, He overturns the seats of them who sell doves, because they who sell spiritual grace, are deprived of their priesthood, either before men, or in the eyes of God.

He calls moneychangers, changers of a particular sort of money, for the word means a small brass coin. There follows, and the seats of them that sold doves.

But if a man by sinning gives up to the devil the grace and purity of baptism, he has sold his Dove, and for this reason is cast out of the temple. There follows, And would not suffer that any man should carry any vessel through the temple.

Further, He calls the temple, a den of thieves, on account of the money gained there; for thieves always troop together for gain. Since then they sold those animals which were offered in sacrifice for the sake of gain, He called them thieves.

Which also turns to the greater condemnation of the Jews, because though the Lord did this so many times, nevertheless they did not correct their conduct.

John also narrates the expulsion of the money changers by Jesus, but he speaks of this at the beginning of the Gospel, whereas this one (Mark) speaks of it toward the end. Therefore one must think that this (latter) expulsion was the second, which serves to the greater condemnation of the Jews, since they did not repent despite the Lord having acted thus with them on more than one occasion. He calls the Temple a "den of robbers" on account of the covetousness of the money changers. For the robber race is given over to plundering. And since the sellers in the Temple also traded in sacrificial animals for the sake of gain, they too were called robbers. The "money changers" were engaged in the exchange of money. The Lord presents the prophet Isaiah as well as their accuser, who says: "My house shall be called a house of prayer" (Is. 56:7). Let us therefore pray that we too may not be cast out of the church! For many come to our church as well in order to sell what is good and buy what is bad. There are also those who, arranging and managing church affairs, have tables full of money: they do everything out of greed. Overturned also are the seats of those who sell doves, that is, the thrones of hierarchs who sell spiritual gifts, for the dove is an image of the Holy Spirit. May the Lord cast out such a bishop from his bishopric, for cursed is he who ordains for money. In like manner, he also sells his dove who sells to the devil the grace and purity received in baptism. For this reason he too is cast out of the Church.

And with that thought came a larger one, and the colossal figure of her Master had also crossed the theatre of my thoughts. The same modern difficulty which darkened the subject-matter of Anatole France also darkened that of Ernest Renan. Renan also divided his hero's pity from his hero's pugnacity. Renan even represented the righteous anger at Jerusalem as a mere nervous breakdown after the idyllic expectations of Galilee. As if there were any inconsistency between having a love for humanity and having a hatred for inhumanity! Altruists, with thin, weak voices, denounce Christ as an egoist. Egoists (with even thinner and weaker voices) denounce Him as an altruist. In our present atmosphere such cavils are comprehensible enough. The love of a hero is more terrible than the hatred of a tyrant. The hatred of a hero is more generous than the love of a philanthropist. There is a huge and heroic sanity of which moderns can only collect the fragments. There is a giant of whom we see only the lopped arms and legs walking about. They have torn the soul of Christ into silly strips, labelled egoism and altruism, and they are equally puzzled by His insane magnificence and His insane meekness. They have parted His garments among them, and for His vesture they have cast lots; though the coat was without seam woven from the top throughout.

Instead of looking at books and pictures about the New Testament I looked at the New Testament. There I found an account, not in the least of a person with his hair parted in the middle or his hands clasped in appeal, but of an extraordinary being with lips of thunder and acts of lurid decision, flinging down tables, casting out devils, passing with the wild secrecy of the wind from mountain isolation to a sort of dreadful demagogy; a being who often acted like an angry god--and always like a god. Christ had even a literary style of his own, not to be found, I think, elsewhere; it consists of an almost furious use of the a fortiori. His "how much more" is piled one upon another like castle upon castle in the clouds. The diction used about Christ has been, and perhaps wisely, sweet and submissive. But the diction used by Christ is quite curiously gigantesque; it is full of camels leaping through needles and mountains hurled into the sea. Morally it is equally terrific; he called himself a sword of slaughter, and told men to buy swords if they sold their coats for them. That he used other even wilder words on the side of non-resistance greatly increases the mystery; but it also, if anything, rather increases the violence. We cannot even explain it by calling such a being insane; for insanity is usually along one consistent channel. The maniac is generally a monomaniac. Here we must remember the difficult definition of Christianity already given; Christianity is a superhuman paradox whereby two opposite passions may blaze beside each other. The one explanation of the Gospel language that does explain it, is that it is the survey of one who from some supernatural height beholds some more startling synthesis.

The tremendous figure which fills the Gospels towers in this respect, as in every other, above all the thinkers who ever thought themselves tall. His pathos was natural, almost casual. The Stoics, ancient and modern, were proud of concealing their tears. He never concealed His tears; He showed them plainly on His open face at any daily sight, such as the far sight of His native city. Yet He concealed something. Solemn supermen and imperial diplomatists are proud of restraining their anger. He never restrained His anger. He flung furniture down the front steps of the Temple, and asked men how they expected to escape the damnation of Hell. Yet He restrained something. I say it with reverence; there was in that shattering personality a thread that must be called shyness. There was something that He hid from all men when He went up a mountain to pray. There was something that He covered constantly by abrupt silence or impetuous isolation. There was some one thing that was too great for God to show us when He walked upon our earth; and I have sometimes fancied that it was His mirth.