And the passover of the Jews was near, and Jesus went up to Jerusalem.
One short travel note carries a lot. It gives the feast a strange new name, it brings the Son of God into His Father's house, and it starts the clock on His public ministry.
The Old Testament calls the Passover a feast of the Lord. Here John calls it the Jews' feast. The change of owner is the point.
In John 2:13 we read of the Passover, the first of "the feasts of Jehovah." But here it is not called the "Feast of Jehovah." It is called "the Jews' Passover." In chapter 7:2 we read, "The Jews' feast of tabernacles was at hand." "The Feasts of Jehovah" have become the "Feasts of the Jews." The outward form was there, but the Lord Jesus Christ, God's Son, had been rejected, and what joy could God have in empty forms?
What God sets up, people can take over. The form stays; the purpose goes.
The Lord set up the Passover as a very holy and solemn thing. It dwindled down into something the Jews took into their own hands, lowered, tarnished and spoiled. The feast was meant to remember the deliverance out of Egypt. The Jews made it into a feast of their own. They lost sight of its original purpose, and they shut God out of it. In the same way, people have in many cases lowered the Lord's Supper, the Lord's Table, into man's supper and man's table.
Commentators differ on why John words it this way. One reading is practical: John was introducing an unfamiliar feast to readers who were not Jews.
Critics use this as an indication that the writer was a Gentile. It seems, however, to mean no more than either that, since this is the first time John mentions the festival, he describes it this way for the information of his first readers — Gentiles in Asia Minor — or that it is used in distinction from the Christian Passover.
The verse records an ordinary act of obedience. He travelled at the ordinary season, for the ordinary reason, and He was no longer alone.
From Capernaum the Lord went up to Jerusalem with His disciples. He now had a recognised following (2:17). It was in the spring that He made this journey, for the Passover was near at hand. So He had gone to the capital to keep it.
His arrival at the capital is a question, not an answer. Will the nation know its own Messiah?
What an opportunity this people had of acknowledging their Messiah, as Nathanael had just done! Will they now say, "Rabbi, you are the Son of God! You are the King of Israel!"? Then, as always, comes the dark side of the picture. Man and the nation, with its city and its temple, must now face the test. Jesus may shine out in His personal glory and in His official glory, by words and deeds. But are there eyes that can see, and hearts that can understand Him, and faith that will receive Him?
What He found there was not a small fault in one place. It showed the condition of the whole nation.
The temple was in a sad state. Selfishness reigned there. There was no concern for the true fear and honour and holiness of God, yet there was the utmost fussiness about a ritual show of their own invention. These things marked the ruined state of a people whom God's favour had called to the highest earthly privilege.
He goes up as a Son to His Father's house. What He does there points ahead to judgment.
He goes up to Jerusalem. There He finds the temple profaned, and He drives out the traders — this was a sign of judgment to come… This passage also hints that in His mind the house at Jerusalem was already judged… What concerned the Father — His name, His house, His glory — was always the first thought of the Son who is in His bosom.
John marks time by this feast. So this verse became the starting point for measuring how long the Lord's public ministry lasted. Commentators disagree on the count.
Eusebius records an ancient observation that the first three Gospels seem to tell us of only one Passover — that is, of only one year's ministry — while the fourth Gospel speaks of several Passovers, at least three (compare John 6:4; John 12:1). Some find four Passovers in this Gospel.
Those who count three will not read a Passover into the unnamed feast of chapter 5. Their reason comes from John's own habit.
We say three, because some have supposed that the feast mentioned in chapter 5 was a Passover too. Others, and we think on good ground, do not agree. In the three places where the Passover is meant, John tells his readers plainly that it was that well-known feast. Why then would he drop that practice when writing of the healing at the pool of Bethesda?
- Renamed. Once it was a feast of the Lord; here it is the Jews' feast — the same ceremony with the Owner left out.
- Emptied. The form survived; the meaning did not. Human hands took the feast over, lowered it, and kept God out.
- Tested. He goes up anyway. Now the nation, the city and the temple must answer one question: do they see Him?
- Exposed. What He finds is not one bad practice but a people fussy about ritual and indifferent to the holiness of God.
- Claimed. His Father's name, house and glory come first — so the visit that begins as a pilgrimage ends as a sign of judgment.
And he found in the temple the sellers of oxen and sheep and doves, and the money-changers sitting;
Jesus walked into the temple and found a livestock market with money-changers at their tables. Who had the right to clear it, and what did the scene say about the nation's religion?
The trade was not outside the temple. It filled the court itself with the noise of a market:
No one denied that oxen, sheep, and doves were to be brought to God's altar at set times and under set conditions. But God's revelation gave no permission for them to wait inside the court of the Temple for whatever the offerers needed. Leviticus 26:2, "You shall reverence my sanctuary," points the other way and forbids such a practice. The lowing of oxen, the bleating of sheep and the cooing of doves rose above the hum of human voices. The sacred court must have looked like a fair or market, not the holy spot where God was to be worshipped and which people held to be His home on earth. The money-changers' tables and their trade were more out of keeping with that holy place. Man's convenience and man's worldly gain — these were served. But which of the traders or money-changers cared in all this about the honour of their God?
The traders had an answer ready: the law itself let them bring money and buy what they needed. But they bent that allowance:
This shows how the kind provisions of the law could be twisted, and were twisted, to serve man's greed. There was instruction on this point in Deuteronomy 14:22-26, and they might plead that they were only doing what the law allowed. The law told them to bring their money and buy what they needed. It never approved the greedy practices they had brought in, which turned the house of God into a money-making centre.
The animals on sale were not random stock. What they stood for makes their price tag worse:
They may claim with a pious air that they brought the oxen, sheep and doves there to help those who wanted to offer sacrifices, and that money changing helped those who had come from other countries. But the plain truth was that money-making was their aim. The place for this was in the business markets. These creatures of sacrifice all speak of Christ. The ox speaks of His devoted service toward God, the sheep of His submission to God, the dove of His purity before God. How revolting, then, that these should be sold for monetary profit!
Who could act like this in the temple? The answer lies in what He called the building:
Who was this One acting like this? He was the Son of the Father, the only begotten Son of God. It was God's house — so everyone claimed — and there He stood with all that mixed crowd. It was His Father's house, He said. If, then, it was His Father's house, He was undeniably the Son... God, who long ago lived in the innermost sanctuary in thick darkness, was that day seen in the court of the Temple. Here was God in the person of a man, God in human flesh, revealing Himself as the Father's Son and acting as Son in caring for His Father's glory.
The market was a small window into a much larger collapse. One writer separates this scene from the later clearing the other Gospels record, and reads it as a diagnosis of the nation:
This clearing of the temple is not the one the other Gospels report on His last visit; John gives only the first. The temple was in a bad state. Selfishness reigned there. They cared nothing for the true fear, honour and holiness of God, yet they were extremely fussy about a ritual show of their own invention. All this marked the ruined state of a people whom God's favour had called to the highest privilege on earth.
One writer traces the same habit back through Israel's history and on to the day it ends. Some translations read "trader" where the line quoted below reads "Canaanite":
The last sentence in Zechariah is an arresting one: "In that day there shall no longer be a Canaanite in the house of the Lord of hosts." This means more than banishing a literal Canaanite. The name means "a merchant," and a spirit of merchandising has plagued the house of the Lord in Israel throughout its history... At last that house will be made fully clean from the defilement of those who use Jewish religion to serve their own greed... May we too in our day hold God's house, the Church of the living God, in proper respect. May we give the Lord Jesus the supreme honour He deserves.
- Found — He met a market in the temple: oxen, sheep, doves and coin tables filling the court built for worship.
- Convenience — The traders could point to Deuteronomy 14:22-26 and call it a service to travellers. Greed turned that allowance into a money-making centre.
- Merchandise — They sold for profit the very animals that pictured Christ's service, submission and purity.
- Father's house — He called the temple His Father's house: that named His right to act, and named Him the Son.
- Cleansed — What He found exposed a nation careful about ritual, careless about God's honour. One day the merchant will be gone for good.
and, having made a scourge of cords, he cast [them] all out of the temple, both the sheep and the oxen; and he poured out the change of the money-changers, and overturned the tables,
At Passover, at the very start of His ministry, Jesus finds the temple court running as a cattle market, and He clears it with His own hands. Why did this stir Him as nothing else did, by what right did He act, and does His example put a whip in our hands?
The traders had an answer ready. Worship called for animals, and travellers needed the right coins. But that excused neither the place nor the motive.
No one could deny that oxen, sheep, and doves should be brought to God's altar at certain times and under certain conditions. But nothing in divine revelation allowed them to stand waiting inside the court of the Temple for the worshippers' needs... The lowing of oxen, the bleating of sheep, the cooing of doves rose above the hum of human voices. The court must have looked like a fair or a market, not the holy place where God was to be worshipped... The trade served man's convenience and man's profit. But which of the traders, or of the money-changers, cared in all that for the honour of their God?
The law itself let them bring money and buy what they needed. That provision was twisted for gain.
The law told them to bring their money and buy what they needed. But it gave no support to the greedy practices they had introduced, which turned the house of God into a money-making centre. We can see the same thing in principle in our day.
He made the whip first, then worked through the court piece by piece. Nowhere else do we see Him act like this.
Here we see Him doing no fewer than four things: making the whip, driving out the animals, pouring the changers' money onto the ground, and overturning the tables. Nowhere else do we find Him showing such strong outward marks of indignation as when He saw men profaning the temple. The whole event is a striking picture of what Christ will do at His second coming. Remembering that, we may get some idea of the deep meaning of that remarkable phrase, "the wrath of the Lamb."
One man against a crowded marketplace, and the marketplace gave way.
He acted with authority, and no one resisted Him... The sheep and the oxen went out at His bidding. Were they not His creatures? ... However crowded the court had been, He cleared it at once. No trader, no money-changer refused to comply.
Jesus cleared the temple twice, and the two accounts strike a different note.
In Matthew's Gospel it is an act of Messianic power, where He cleanses His own house, or at least acts for God as His King. In John it is rather zeal for the injured honour of His Father's house — "do not make My Father's house a house of trade." John also tells of this first cleansing early in his Gospel because he treats Israel's rejection as settled from the start.
The scene looked back to a psalm and forward to a cross.
"Do not make My Father's house a house of trade," He says, and His disciples remember the words of Psalm 69 — one of the sacrificial psalms — "Zeal for your house has consumed me." This very zeal and devotion to His Father's glory was a pledge of His death. So the Pharisees asked Him by what authority He did these things. His reply shows He knew exactly where such zeal was leading Him: "Destroy this temple" — take My life — "and in three days I will raise it up."
Critics have asked in mockery: does this give anyone licence to horsewhip a religious man out of his pulpit? The answer turns on who was holding the whip.
Such a question overlooks the divine authority completely — the divine authority of righteousness over God's acknowledged house... Jesus did it with the declaration that "something greater than the temple is here"; that if they destroyed "the temple of His body, He would raise it up in three days." He was Jehovah.
So the act is not a template for our tempers — though what drove it is still needed.
He did that alone; we could have no part in such divine and holy indignation. But in these reproaches we may share, and shall share if we are like Him. What causes the reproaches is as necessary to the well-being of God's house on earth now as the zeal that cleansed the Temple then.
- Zeal burns. He acted out of devotion to His Father's honour, not annoyance at noise. That same devotion was a pledge of His death.
- Zeal claims. The trade had turned a place of worship into a place of profit. He cleared the court as the Son claiming His Father's house.
- Zeal acts. He made the whip, drove out the animals, scattered the coins, upended the tables. Nowhere else does He show such open indignation.
- Zeal commands. A packed market emptied at one man's word. No one resisted: the creatures and the court were His.
- Zeal is His to wield. We cannot copy the whip, but the concern for God's house that held it is still needed today.
and said to the sellers of doves, Take these things hence; make not my Father's house a house of merchandise.
Jesus came to the temple in Jerusalem at Passover. He found animals for sale and money-changers at their tables, and He cleared the court. He gave His reason: the house belongs to His Father, and trade has no place in it.
The command itself tells us who He is.
He does act as the Lord, with divine rights, yet also as the lowly One who was sent, as a servant. Even so, in the very command not to make His Father's house a house of trade, He still bears witness to the glory of His Person. He was the Son of God, announced as such, just as Nathanael had already acknowledged Him. He judged the scene, and not merely on moral grounds, such as might be open to any godly Israelite. He acted openly as the One who identified Himself with His Father's interests. This was His house.
The phrase also settles a question about the God of the Old Testament.
This contradicts the Gnostics' idea that the Creator God of the Old Testament was not "the Father" our Lord spoke of. Notice the other Gospel writers' account of the cleansing of the Temple. Instead of "My Father's house," we find "your house." By then the Jews had fully rejected Christ.
The problem was not that men had dropped religion. They had turned it into a business.
The marriage at Cana tells us that man cannot secure his own happiness by the natural means God has set up. The second scene, at Jerusalem, shows that man cannot make use of the religion God has given. Suppose God provides a religion suited to man in the flesh, to guide his conduct and secure his earthly blessing. Man at once corrupts it into a means of making gain. The house of prayer for all nations becomes the gathering place of money-changers. They turn the Father's house into a house of trade.
He does not drive the sellers of doves out. He speaks to them, and they obey.
He acted with authority, and no one resisted Him. He spoke, too, with authority to those who sold doves. The eternal Son said, "Take these things away; do not make My Father's house a house of trade." And they carried them away. The sheep and the oxen went out at His bidding. Were they not His creatures? The money-changers saw their coin scattered on the ground. However crowded the court had been, He cleared it at once. No one could resist His word. No trader, no money-changer, refused to comply.
Jesus cleared the temple twice, and He claimed it differently each time.
There were two cleansings of the Temple. The first came before John the Baptist finished his ministry. The second came near the close of the Lord's life. On the first occasion Christ cleansed it as His Father's house (John 2:16). On the second occasion He cleansed it of traders as His own (Matt. 21:13).
He kept calling it His Father's house long after it deserved the name — and only much later withdrew it.
The Jews had profaned it in many ways. They made it a house of trade (John 2) and a den of thieves (Matt. 21). Yet He still called it His Father's house, and He went on recognising it as such. At last He judged it and said, "See, your house is left to you desolate."
The disciples saw a psalm come alive in front of them.
Our Lord with a whip of cords drives them out, and casts out all their business. "Do not make My Father's house a house of trade," He says. His disciples remember the words of Psalm 69, one of the sacrificial psalms: "Zeal for your house has consumed me." This zeal and devotion to His Father's glory was a pledge of His death.
The same evil did not end with the temple.
The very same evils appeared long ago in the Christian world. This is a terrible thing to say, but truth demands that it be said. Again religion has become a money-making concern. Often this drives away the person seeking God. Paul's first letter to Timothy tells us how to behave in the house of God. In it words like these stand out: "not a lover of money," "not greedy for dishonest gain," "depraved in mind and deprived of the truth, imagining that godliness is a means of gain," and "godliness with contentment is great gain." If such words govern us, we shall be kept from this snare.
- Ownership. Jesus does not appeal to rules but to relationship — the house is His Father's, and He speaks of it as the Son.
- Corruption. God gave man a religion, and man turned it into a source of profit. The sin here is not irreligion.
- Authority. A whip moved the animals, but a word moved the men; the crowded court emptied because of who spoke.
- Patience. He kept calling it His Father's house through all its corruption, and only at the very end said "your house."
- Cost. The zeal that cleared the court was the same zeal that consumed Him — this act was a pledge of His death.
[And] his disciples remembered that it is written, The zeal of thy house devours me.
The disciples watched Jesus drive the traders out of the temple. A line from Psalm 69 came to mind, and it raises a question: what does it mean for zeal to eat a man up?
One writer roots the act in who Jesus knew Himself to be, and sees in it a preview of a day still coming.
This is a remarkable transaction. The point of it stands out clearly: as a Man He was conscious of being the Son, and that made Him zealous for His Father's honour. It was a witness, too, of the day when, as Son with power, He will purge the temple of all that defiles it. On that blessed day He will clear away everything that hinders the Father's glory and the free access of His love.
The Greek word behind "zeal" here is not reserved for Christ. The same word describes zeal in ordinary believers, and it sits close to a word that can turn sour.
The Greek word zelos is used of the Lord in "Zeal for your house will consume me," John 2:17 — a quotation from Psalm 69:9, where the Greek Old Testament has the same word. Paul speaks to the Corinthian saints of the "zeal" they had for him, and the "zeal" they showed in clearing themselves from the evil among them. Afterwards he says he was jealous over them with a godly jealousy. But in 2 Corinthians 12:20 he uses the same word for the "jealousies" he feared he might find among them.
Readers comparing John with Psalm 69 hit a difference in the verb. One writer traces it to the oldest manuscripts, and adds a caution about how much the disciples understood at the time.
In this act of their Master the disciples recalled the words of the royal psalmist: "Zeal for your house will consume me" (Ps. 69:9). That is how we should read the line here, on the authority of all the uncial manuscripts. The Vatican and Alexandrine texts of the Greek Old Testament, though, agree with the Hebrew, which has the verb in the past tense. We have no warrant for concluding that the disciples looked on the Lord's act at that time as the fulfilment of a prophetic saying. It illustrated that verse in the Psalm to them.
To be eaten up is to be spent. One writer hears a cost in that word, and links it to the answer Jesus gives when He is challenged.
This very zeal and devotedness to His Father's glory was a pledge of His death. So the Pharisees asked by what authority He did these things. His reply shows that He knew full well where such zeal was leading Him: "Destroy this temple" — take My life — "and in three days I will raise it up."
Another writer traces the same fire back to the psalmist, and notes where it put Him with the nation's leaders.
Here, as he thinks of it, the psalmist's zeal breaks out: it consumes him as the altar flame consumes the sacrifice. So it was with Christ in the temple. There He flames out in a testimony against the evil, and that puts Him in opposition to the heads of the people.
Psalm 69 does not stop at the zeal. The following clause explains why insults aimed at God landed on Him.
That devotion led Him to identify completely with God and His interests on the earth. He felt everything according to God, and for God. So He said, "The reproaches of those who reproach you have fallen on me." He took everything in, not by how it touched Himself, but by how it touched God and His glory. A reproach spoken against God wounded His heart, because He was here not for Himself, but for God.
One writer turns the scene into a lesson for God's house today.
Something totally unbecoming to His Father's nature had dared to invade His Father's house. That was bound to stir a burning zeal in His soul. Let us take a solemn lesson from this as to what is fitting for God's house, the assembly of God, today.
Another writer sets beside Him a poor widow who gave everything she had to God's house.
She gave all her living to the house of her God. He could say, "Zeal for your house has consumed me"; she could say, "Zeal for your house has consumed my living." So she was very near to Him. What a privilege!
- Son. He acts as a Son defending His Father's honour. That act previews the day He will purge everything that hinders the Father's glory.
- Zeal. One Greek word covers His zeal and the zeal of the Corinthians — and it sits next to the word for jealousy.
- Consumed. Zeal that eats a man up is sacrificial. It is the altar flame consuming the offering — a pledge of the death He names moments later.
- Reproach. Because He lived for God and not Himself, every insult against God fell on Him.
- Us. The same fire has a lesson for us: what fits God's house today, and a widow who let zeal consume all she had.
The Jews therefore answered and said to him, What sign shewest thou to us, that thou doest these things?
Jesus has just driven the traders out of the temple, and no one has resisted Him. Now His opponents find their voice. They do not dispute what He did — they demand His credentials for doing it.
On the surface the challenge looked fair. The traders were not obvious criminals, and one writer explains why their presence seemed defensible:
A challenge now comes from the Jews, the persistent opponents of the Lord Jesus in this Gospel. Here we meet them in opposition for the first time. No doubt the Lord's act had taken them completely by surprise, and at first they said nothing. But, recovering themselves, they asked Him what sign He showed them, since He was doing these things. What had just taken place was not merely unusual but, in their experience, unique. What proof, then, could He give them that He had authority to act this way? Everyone agreed that the oxen, the sheep and the doves were there to provide victims for sacrifices to the God of Israel. The money-changers were there for the convenience of the crowd of worshippers from far away. Why, then, should He drive all of them out of the sacred precincts?
Yet this was not honest enquiry. They could find nothing wrong with the act itself:
Though unable to resist, the Jews question what credentials He had for doing such things. They cry for a sign, though they cannot deny the moral rightness of His action. But He will not satisfy this idle curiosity. The sign would be one — an infinitely powerful one — that they would not want.
Another writer puts it more sharply still: the authority of what He had just done should itself have settled the matter.
The Jews, however, challenged what He did and demanded a sign, as though the irresistible authority of His action was not sign enough.
The real issue was who He was. Everything turns on His right to call the temple His Father's house:
He had cleansed the temple, His Father's house, which they had turned into a place of trade. He had asserted His right to clear that house. He turned out of it every defiling thing. He could not do it in any other character except as the Son of God. As the Son, His zeal proved His right to cleanse that house from all defilement, and those money-making, wretched Jews challenged Him at once: what authority have you to do that?
His reply pointed away from the building they were standing in. The place where God dwelt was no longer that structure but the body of the One speaking to them:
In reply He gave them the great sign of His own death and resurrection, only expressed in symbolic language. The fact was that the Temple, as God's dwelling-place, was about to be replaced by Himself. His body was a far more wonderful "Temple" than the one that had stood on Mount Moriah. The Word dwelt among us in flesh, and so "God was in Christ" in a far deeper and more intimate way.
Their violence could reach His body, but no further:
The Temple at Jerusalem could be corrupted. The Temple of the Lord's body could not be corrupted, though men could use violence to try to destroy it. Again and again they tried to stone the Lord. At last, when the hour had come, they were allowed to "destroy" the temple of His body. Man's wickedness becomes one more occasion to display His glory as the Son, and His superiority over all others. Man may destroy, but he cannot raise the dead.
The disciples understood His answer only after He rose from the dead:
The sign that He would give was His own resurrection-power. He would raise not others only but His own body, the true Temple in which alone God was, for the Word was God. What they boasted in had only a name without God. It is resurrection that marks Him out as Son of God in power. When He was raised, the disciples remembered His saying. They found even stronger confirmation of their faith in both Scripture and His word. His resurrection is the basic truth both of the gospel and of our distinctive place as Christians.
- Challenge. They could not deny that clearing the temple was right, so they questioned His credentials instead. The demand for a sign was idle curiosity, not honest enquiry.
- Title. Only the Son of God could call that house His Father's house and cleanse it. The question of authority was really a question about who He was.
- Sign. He answered with His own death and resurrection, spoken in symbolic language.
- Temple. His body was about to replace the building as the dwelling-place of God.
- Proof. Men were allowed to destroy that temple, but they could not raise the dead. His resurrection became the foundation of the disciples' faith.
Jesus answered and said to them, Destroy this temple, and in three days I will raise it up.
Jesus had just driven the traders out of the temple courts, and the challenge that followed was about authority: what right did He have to do it? One writer traces the logic of the exchange:
He had cleansed the temple, His Father's house, which they had turned into a place of business. He had asserted His right to clear that house. Those money-making, wretched Jews challenged Him at once: What sign do you show us if you do these things? He could not do it in any other character except as the Son of God. As the Son, His zeal proved His right to cleanse that house of every defilement.
John supplies the key in the next verses: the building He meant was Himself. The word He chose is worth noticing.
There is another word used for temple (Greek, naos). It means the inner, more sacred part of the temple, where only the priests could enter. Above all it means the holiest place of all, where only the high priest could enter once a year. This was the word the Lord used when He spoke of the temple of His body. He meant His condition as Man of flesh and blood on this earth.
The building in Jerusalem was no longer where God could be found:
The sign He would give was His own resurrection power, raising not merely others but His own body, the true temple in which alone God was (for the Word was God). The one they boasted in had only a name without God.
The word "Destroy" is a permission. It points to what men would be allowed to do to Him.
Men could corrupt the temple at Jerusalem. They could not corrupt the temple of the Lord's body, though they could use violence to try to destroy it. Again and again they tried to stone the Lord. At last, when the hour had come, they were allowed to "destroy" the temple of His body. Man's wickedness becomes one more occasion to show His glory as the Son, and His greatness above all others. Man may destroy, but he cannot raise the dead. His resurrection will be the declaration in power that He is the Son of God.
Here He says He will raise it Himself. Scripture also says God raised Him. Both are held together.
His resurrection was both through the power of God and by Himself. God raised Him up, and He raised Himself up. This statement belongs to this Gospel in particular, where we see Him as the Son of God. We find the same statement in chapter 10:18 — "I have authority to lay it down, and I have authority to take it up again."
Others add that raising this temple is an act of the same order as creation itself:
He purifies the temple, His Father's house. But He does this as the God of the temple. This was building houses as God alone can build them: "For every house is built by someone, but the builder of all things is God." To build by creation, or by resurrection as here, is divine architecture. Jesus is a divine builder.
Years later these words were dragged into the court that condemned Him — twisted just enough to be false.
"We heard Him say," two witnesses claimed, "I will destroy this temple that is made with hands, and in three days I will build another, not made with hands." What the Lord said was different. Within three days of that examination before Caiaphas, His words came true. The Jews put Him to death. They destroyed the temple of His body. On the third day He rose again. Even the two witnesses did not agree with each other.
One writer draws the lesson: "How much harm is done by misrepresenting what someone said, even without meaning to."
Neither the crowd nor His own followers grasped it at the time. Understanding came with the event.
They ignore His first words about their destroying the temple. They mock His raising it up in three days. He does not explain, but John explains for our benefit. His own body was indeed the true temple of God. God's glory had left the temple in the days of Ezekiel, but in Christ that glory dwelt in fullness. When it happened, the disciples remembered His words. Those words became precious to them, and confirmed the Old Testament Scriptures too.
- Challenge. They asked what right He had to cleanse the temple. He answered with one sign: His death and resurrection.
- Temple. The word He used is the inner sanctuary, the place of God's dwelling. His body, not the building in Jerusalem, was where God dwelt.
- Destroy. Men could corrupt the old house. The true one they could only destroy, and only when they were allowed to.
- Raise. "I will raise it up" is divine architecture: God raised Him, and He raised Himself, marking Him out as Son of God.
- Remember. His accusers twisted the words. His friends missed them. Then He rose, the disciples remembered, and His words confirmed the Scriptures.
The Jews therefore said, Forty and six years was this temple building, and thou wilt raise it up in three days?
The scene is Jerusalem at Passover, just after Jesus has driven the traders out of the temple courts. The leaders demand proof of His authority. He answers with a word about destroying and raising a temple. They reply with arithmetic: a building site of forty-six years against a promise of three days.
The number came from a building project everyone in the city had watched. Herod began it, and workmen kept adding to it long after it opened.
At first the Jews were unsure of his intentions, for it seemed sacrilegious that an Idumean, a heathen king, should rebuild the sacred temple. But Herod soon showed he was in earnest. He gathered ten thousand wagons to carry the stones needed for such an undertaking, and called up ten thousand skilled workmen for the job. The efforts were so huge that in a year and six months the temple opened, to great rejoicing among the Jews. The building kept receiving additions from time to time. That explains their remark about the forty-six years. But He was speaking about the temple of His body.
Two questions matter more than the years: who built this house, and who ran it?
Herod was not God's man to build Him a house, nor were the leaders of the Jews fit men to carry on His worship. To the disciples the Lord declared that not one stone would be left on another.
Their boast counted the years of labour. It could not count whether God was there.
His own body was the true temple of God. God's glory had left the temple in the days of the prophet Ezekiel. But in Christ that glory dwelt in fullness.
The verse opens with "the Jews." In this Gospel that name marks a settled opposition, and here they think they have closed the matter.
A challenge comes from the Jews. In this Gospel they are the persistent opponents of the Lord Jesus, and here we meet them in opposition for the first time. To His questioners His reply seemed absurd. "It has taken forty-six years to build this temple, and will you raise it up in three days?" They gave this answer, we can well imagine, with feelings of triumph. They thought themselves wise and prudent. Which of them could accept such an answer as proof? Would anyone take up the hard work of forty-six years again and finish it in three days? Let the ignorant crowd believe that. How could the educated men of Jerusalem accept it?
Both the Jews and His own disciples missed His meaning at the time.
He answers them with a challenge: "Destroy this temple, and in three days I will raise it up." He was speaking of His death and resurrection. It was a parable they could not interpret. They applied it falsely to Herod's building, which was still unfinished. Even the disciples understood it only when it came true. The eyes of those held by outward things were not on Him. For the time being, outward things held the eyes of true disciples too.
They compared building times. He was drawing a line between what human hands can do and what they cannot.
The temple at Jerusalem could be corrupted. No corruption was possible with the temple of the Lord's body, though men could try to destroy His body by violence. Again and again they sought to stone the Lord. At last, when the hour had come, they were permitted to "destroy" the temple of His body. Man's wickedness becomes one more occasion to show His glory as the Son, and His place above all others. Man may destroy, but he cannot raise the dead. Christ says, in effect, "When you have done your worst, when you have destroyed the temple of My body, I will raise it up."
The sign meant nothing to them that day. To the disciples it meant everything later.
The sign He would give was His own resurrection power. He would raise not just others but His own body, the true temple in which alone God was. What they boasted of had only a name without God. Resurrection marks Him out as Son of God in power. When He rose, the disciples remembered His saying. They found the strongest confirmation of their faith in both Scripture and His word. His resurrection is the basic truth of the gospel, and of our distinctive place as Christians.
- Building — Herod's temple took forty-six years and was still unfinished. The Jews were quoting a real building record, not a figure of speech.
- Builder — Herod was not God's man for the work, and the men running its worship were no fitter. God's glory had left that house long before, in Ezekiel's day.
- Blindness — their eyes were on outward things. They applied His words to Herod's stonework and missed the Person in front of them.
- Body — they could corrupt one temple, but no corruption could touch the temple of His body. Man may destroy; man cannot raise the dead.
- Belief — the sign lay on the far side of the resurrection. When He rose, the disciples remembered this saying, and it confirmed both Scripture and His word.
But *he* spoke of the temple of his body.
Jesus had just cleared the temple courts, and the leaders demanded a sign. He answered with words about a temple torn down and raised in three days — and here John tells us which temple He meant.
His hearers thought only of the stone building in front of them. One writer shows how often this happened, and how much John's note clears up.
Many times, especially in John's Gospel, the Lord Jesus said things that those who heard Him did not understand. Here in John 2 is a case in point... They did not grasp what the Lord's answer meant: "Destroy this temple, and in three days I will raise it up." They thought only of Herod's temple.
Some dismiss John's explanation. One commentator answers them with a scholar's reply.
About such reckless treatment of this Gospel, the late Dr. Friedrich Blass remarked that we moderns should ask whether anyone today can know better than someone who lived at the time.
One writer sets the stone building beside the temple Jesus named.
In His reply the Lord shows that, now He had become man, His body was the true Temple or dwelling place of God. The Temple at Jerusalem was empty... The temple at Jerusalem could be defiled. The Temple of the Lord's body could never be defiled, though men could use violence to try to destroy it... Christ says, in effect, "When you have done your worst, when you have destroyed the temple of My body, I will raise it up." His resurrection will be the declaration in power that He is the Son of God.
Calling the temple "empty" is not about the building itself. One writer points to the time when God's glory left it.
Indeed His own body was the true temple of God, for God's glory had left the temple in the days of Ezekiel; but in Christ that glory dwelt in fullness. What a sign is the death and resurrection of Christ!
They had asked for a sign. This one was beyond any man's power to give.
He must die, then, and rise again, before the sign could come to pass. But who has power of resurrection except God? Man may, if God permits it, kill the body. There his power stops. To raise the dead belongs to God, not to man. Yet He who was a man would use that power, and use it on Himself.
He had cleansed the house as the One who owned it. The temple He now names is one He would put up Himself.
But again, He purifies the temple, His Father's house. But He does this as the God of the temple: "Destroy this temple, and in three days I will raise it up." This was building houses as God alone can build them... To build by creation, or by resurrection as here, is divine architecture, and Jesus is a divine builder.
God's dwelling place did not stop with the body of Jesus.
The temple in Jerusalem was the only temple God ever commanded anyone to build on earth. Israel had defiled it so badly that when the Lord Jesus came He set it aside, and spoke instead of "the temple of His body"... While God could no longer dwell in Israel's temple, He could dwell with perfect satisfaction in the body of the Lord Jesus. But since Christ has returned to glory, God is building a temple now — the Church.
- Empty house. God's glory had left the temple in Jerusalem long before. The building they defended stood empty.
- Filled body. In Christ that glory dwelt in fullness. His body was the true temple, and it could not be defiled.
- Destroyed temple. Men did their worst to it. Killing the body was as far as their power went.
- Raised temple. Man may kill a body. Raising the dead belongs to God alone, and His resurrection declares in power that He is the Son of God.
- New house. God now builds a temple of people — the Church. The dwelling moved from stone, to Christ, to His people.
When therefore he was raised from among [the] dead, his disciples remembered that he had said this, and believed the scripture and the word which Jesus had spoken.
John adds this verse as a later note: the disciples heard His words about destroying and raising the temple, but nothing clicked until the day He rose. Two questions sit at the centre — why the delay, and what exactly did they end up believing?
Their failure to understand was not unusual. One writer notes that this is a running feature of John's account, and that the reason lies in who was speaking:
At the moment no one, not even His disciples, understood Him. This is another characteristic feature of John's Gospel. Friends and foes alike misunderstand Him again and again. The real meaning of these things dawned on the disciples only after His resurrection, and after the gift of the Spirit that came with it. But this again is not surprising. If the Word becomes flesh, He will speak to us in human words, true. But He will also speak of the high things He knows as the One at the Father's side. So His words are bound to hold a depth far beyond any measuring line man has — depths that only the Holy Spirit can reveal.
Their understanding turned on one event. One writer shows how much hangs on it — their grasp of this saying, and their freedom from the hold of Jewish thinking:
They had eyes, but did not see; they had ears, but did not hear, and they did not understand His glory. And sadly, not only the Jews. In understanding, the disciples were little better until He rose from the dead. The resurrection of the Lord proves His power and glory; it is just as truly the only deliverance for disciples from the grip of Jewish influence. Without it there is no divine understanding of Christ, or of His word, or of Scripture.
What the disciples recalled was the saying itself, unaltered. Set that against those who taunted Him at the cross, who threw His words back at Him in a form He never used:
When first spoken, the Jews thought He was referring to the building they were standing in. Later, on the cross, they taunted Him with what they thought He had said: "You who would destroy the temple and rebuild it in three days, save yourself." They still thought He meant the Temple building, so they credited Him with words He never spoke. "Destroy this temple," is what He said. "You who would destroy the temple," is what they assumed He said. They misquoted Him, and so got it completely wrong. The disciples, on the other hand, also had to wait for the Resurrection before they had the key to His meaning. Then they remembered what He had said, and found their confidence in His words justified and strengthened. It will be the same for us, when we take God's revealed Word simply.
The verse names two things they believed: the Scripture, and what Jesus had said. One event confirmed both:
The sign He would give was His own resurrection power, raising not others only but His own body, the true Temple in which alone God was (for the Word was God)... It is resurrection that marks Him out as Son of God in power. When He was raised, the disciples remembered His saying, and they found the strongest confirmation of their faith in both Scripture and His word. His Resurrection is the basic truth both of the Gospel and of our distinct place as Christians.
Another writer notes what this did to their reading of the Old Testament:
When it became fact, however, the disciples remembered His words, which then became deeply precious to them, confirming too the Old Testament scriptures. From that time we may be sure they searched the Old Testament much more eagerly than they had ever done.
Their faith rested on Scripture and on His word, not on what they had watched happen. One writer draws the line sharply:
Faith, to be of value and have power, rests not on sight or inference, but on Scripture. So the disciples had a badly unreliable memory for the Lord's words until He was raised from the dead (John 2:22). In the same way, they felt nothing of the force and reach of the written word. Once they believed both, they entered into lasting and growing blessing from above... Faith founded on evidence may strengthen a person against Deism, Pantheism, or Atheism. But it never gave forgiveness of sins. It never led anyone to cry, "Abba, Father."
- Spoken. His words carry depths no man can measure, so friends and foes alike misunderstood Him at the time.
- Stored. The disciples kept the saying exactly as given, while His enemies at the cross threw back a version He never spoke.
- Unlocked. Resurrection is the key: without it there is no divine understanding of Christ, of His word, or of Scripture.
- Doubled. One event confirmed two witnesses at once: the written Scripture and the word Jesus had spoken. It sent them back to search the Old Testament far more eagerly.
- Rested. Faith with power rests on Scripture, not on sight or reasoning. Belief built on evidence alone never gave anyone forgiveness of sins.
And when he was in Jerusalem, at the passover, at the feast, many believed on his name, beholding his signs which he wrought.
Jerusalem at Passover was the best setting anyone could ask for: the city, the feast, and the Messiah working signs before the crowds. Many did believe. Yet John at once tells us what the Lord thought of that belief. What faith does Jesus trust?
Nothing about the setting could have been better. That is what makes the outcome so sobering.
It was in the city of the solemn feasts. It was a feast of Jehovah — in fact the most basic of the sacred feasts. And the Messiah was there, the object of faith, working in power and showing His glory in fitting signs. As a result, many believed on His name. Here was man doing and feeling his best under the best possible circumstances. Yet Jesus Himself did not trust Himself to them. This was from no lack of love or pity in Him; for who ever did or could love as He?
Being sure about Jesus and belonging to Him are not the same thing.
So this conviction was a natural work. It was sincere enough, but only intellectual. Reasoning led them to a correct conclusion, yet it made no real change in the men themselves. They were convinced; they were not converted. They formed their judgment on evidence strong enough, but not on any glory they had seen in Him. So it is not said of these, as of those in the first chapter, that they "received Him." Christ had not gained entrance at the door of their hearts.
The next verse says Jesus did not "entrust" Himself to them. That is the same word John uses here for "believed."
The belief that springs from the sight of facts, which cannot be denied, is not the God-given faith that saves. It is merely intellectual conviction, and when tested it easily collapses, as we see in chapter 6, verse 66... Knowing these men, Jesus did not commit Himself to them. The word translated commit is the same as the word translated believed in the previous verse. This helps us to see that true faith is not a mere mental conviction. It is the handing over of oneself in simple trust to the One in whom one believes.
Weighing proof and bowing to God's word are two different acts.
Man's faith here is no better. It is not the soul submitting to God's testimony. It is the mind judging on evidence that satisfies itself. It reaches the conclusion that Jesus must be the Messiah. It does not submit to God's testimony or receive it. For here the mind sits on the throne of judgment. It decides for or against by weighing up the reasons on each side. That takes the place of the soul setting its seal that God is true... Signs arrest the eye; they exercise the mind; they may touch and win the affections. But nothing short of God's word judges the man.
Other people in this Gospel believed without seeing a single miracle.
There is a clear contrast here with the people mentioned in Chapter 1. They held to the Lord Jesus because of what they saw in Him Himself. The moral beauty of His own Person, His truth and His grace drew their hearts. Later, others at Samaria told the woman, "It is no longer because of what you said that we believe, for we have heard for ourselves, and we know that this is indeed the Savior of the world" (John 4:41-42). He had done no miracles there, but His word went deep into their hearts. They believed Him; they did not just believe certain things about Him.
The man in the next chapter starts from the same evidence. The difference lies in need.
Nicodemus comes to Jesus stating the same principle that had produced conviction in those Jesus had no confidence in. To him the miracles proved that Jesus was a teacher sent from God... The belief of the others did not produce any need in their souls. Conviction like this may go as far as you like. It never troubles the soul, and nothing whatever comes of it. It costs nothing — we often see this.
One writer draws the conclusion: "the man Jesus can trust Himself to can only be a man new born" (Numerical Bible Notes).
- Best case. The setting was ideal and the belief was sincere — this is man at his finest, and it still fell short.
- Mind reached. Reasoning from the signs led them to a right conclusion, but left the men unchanged. Convinced, not converted.
- Word repeated. They "believed" in Him; He did not "believe" Himself to them. The same word shows the gap between agreeing with Him and handing yourself over to Him.
- Person missing. Faith resting on what the eye sees is not the faith Christ Himself draws — as at Samaria, where He did no miracle.
- Need created. Conviction that costs nothing leaves the soul untroubled. Only new birth makes a man Jesus can trust Himself to.
But Jesus himself did not trust himself to them, because he knew all [men],
In Jerusalem the crowds saw His miracles, and many believed in His name. Then the account turns: the One they believed in holds Himself back — so what kind of faith counts for nothing with Him?
One word ties verse 23 and verse 24 together, and it shows what real faith is.
Knowing these men Jesus did not commit Himself to them. The word translated commit is the same word translated believed in the previous verse. This helps us see that true faith is not just mental agreement. It is handing yourself over in simple trust to the One you believe in.
These people were not lying. Their verdict on Jesus was accurate. What they lacked was any change in themselves.
Their conclusion about Him was a just one; but it was a conclusion drawn by what was in man. It was completely worthless. It left man in his own nature, still under the same motives, influences, and passions as before. It did not take him out of the rule of Satan, who had power over the flesh and the world. The conclusion was right; but it was only a conclusion: the man remained what he was — unchanged.
Faith that rests on what the eye has seen turns out to be fragile. Commentators note that it is the same crowd, in effect, who later walk away.
The verses which close the second chapter show that miracles may produce a "belief" of a certain kind. Many in Jerusalem at that time would have agreed with the saying "Seeing is believing." Yet belief that springs from seeing facts you cannot deny is not the God-given faith that saves. It is only intellectual conviction, and when it is tested it collapses, as we see in chapter 6, verse 66.
Their faith stopped at what they saw. It never brought them to Him for anything.
They saw His works, and were persuaded that He was a messenger from God. Their faith, however, led them no further. They did not ask to meet Him. They wanted no dealings with Him. They were content with a faith that rested on the witness of miracles, with no exercise of conscience about any need of salvation. They little thought that He could read them right through, and did.
The reason He held back is knowledge. He needed no one to tell Him about people, and writers see in that a claim about who He is.
To such Christ did not commit Himself. This again manifests the glory of Christ. He is One Who "knew all men"; "He knew what was in man", and He did not need, as others do, anyone to tell Him about man. He is the Omniscient God.
His holding back was not coldness. He loved them, and He still saw what they were.
Here was man doing and feeling his best, in the most favourable circumstances of all. Yet Jesus did not trust Himself to them. It was certainly not for any lack of love or pity in Him, for who ever loved as He did, or could? And the reason, calmly given, is overwhelming: "because He knew all men, and because He did not need anyone to bear witness about man, for He Himself knew what was in man." What a sentence; from Whom; and on what grounds!
What chapter two says about man explains why chapter three must follow.
The truth at the end of John chapter two is this: Jesus says to man, I cannot trust you. Chapter three turns it right around, and there He says, If you are going to be blessed, you must trust Me. That is an immense difference. Why did He not trust man? Because there was nothing in man to suit God.
No amount of evidence closes that gap. Only new life does.
A faith based on miracles may leave people unsaved, unblessed and unconverted. They carry a dreadful responsibility, no doubt, but they are not converted at all... There must be a new life, a new nature; and miracles and signs cannot impart this. We must be born again — born of the word and Spirit of God.
- Trust — one word covers both verses. Verse 23 says they believed; verse 24 says He did not entrust. Real faith hands itself over; it does not just agree.
- Trust withheld — He held back, but not for lack of love. He loved as no one else could, and He still saw everything, because He knew all men and needed no one to tell Him about man.
- Trust misplaced — faith built on miracles can reach a right conclusion about Christ and still leave the person unchanged. Under testing it collapses.
- Trust unsought — they never asked Him for a single thing. Faith that stops at the eye never reaches the conscience.
- Trust reversed — chapter two says God cannot trust man. Chapter three says man must trust God. New birth, not evidence, bridges the two.
and that he had not need that any should testify of man, for himself knew what was in man.
In Jerusalem, at the Passover feast, crowds saw the miracles and believed in His name. Yet the Lord held Himself back from them, and this verse gives the reason.
We form our opinion of people from what they say and do. The Lord needed no such evidence.
He was the Omniscient One, and nothing can be hidden from Him. Until Jesus came into the world no man ever knew what was in man. But when He was here, there was a Man in the world who did not need to wait until people revealed themselves by their actions. He knew what was in man. And the solemn part of it is that He who knew what was in man would not trust him.
The crowd believed because of what they saw. Was His judgment of them merely a sharp reading of character?
They did not really know the Lord, but He knew them, and knowing their motives, He did not trust them. This is certainly not merely human discernment. It is His omniscience as God, the Creator, who knows all men. He needed no witness from others about any particular man: He knew what was in man. This is true of none but God. The Gospel of John has many such expressions, to encourage our complete confidence in His divine knowledge.
There is a knowledge of evil that comes from having taken part in it. That is not the kind meant here.
Jesus did not know man, or the springs and energies of corrupt nature, through any fellowship with them, for He had no such fellowship. The prince of this world had nothing in Him. He was the holy one — "holy, innocent, unstained, separated from sinners." Yet, as this passage tells us, He knew what was in man. He knew it all. He knew it was deceitful above all things. He searched the hearts and tested the inner motives of the children of men.
Notice the tone of the verdict. There is no shouting — only a quiet statement of fact, and that is what makes it so heavy.
The dreadful truth comes out: the Lord did not trust Himself to them, because He knew all men. How withering the words! He had no need that anyone should testify about man, for He knew what was in man. It is not denunciation, but the most solemn sentence, delivered in the calmest manner. It was no longer an open question whether God could trust man; He could not. The real question is whether man would trust God. Sadly, he would not.
His reserve was not coldness:
Certainly it was not from any lack of love or pity in Him, for who ever did or could love as He did?
The word "man" here covers the whole race. The next chapter gives a living example.
The simple meaning is that Jesus knew all, and had no need of testimony about man, for He Himself knew what was in man. It is the great, general truth, which the special case of Nicodemus so aptly illustrates. Man at his best was unfit for the kingdom of God, and therefore needed to be born afresh, or from the very beginning.
Nicodemus was a Pharisee and a ruler among the Jews — as good a specimen of religious humanity as could be produced. That is precisely the point of putting him here:
The Spirit of God, so to speak, says: I will bring before you the very finest piece of humanity the world can produce, a man who would be supposed to have a claim to anything and everything, on the ground of his moral character and religious activity.
Such knowledge could have ended in exposure. One writer asks what His purpose in coming was.
Why then was He in the world? He did not come simply to expose man and leave him uncovered. No — He came to bring God to man, to set the grace and love of God before the eyes of men. He did this in every word that came from His lips, and in every work and miracle He did.
His knowledge does not stop with man.
He not only knows what is in man, He knows all that is in the heart of God. He knows the extent of our need, and He knows the greatness of God's grace to meet that need.
For a heart that trusts Him, full exposure is no threat:
No fair appearance, no mere profession, no pious exterior deceives Him. "All are naked and exposed to the eyes of him to whom we must give account." Nor would the upright heart that truly knows His love want it to be otherwise. It brings great comfort and rest to such a heart that He knows and discerns everything perfectly.
- Knew. He needed no report about anyone; He did not wait for people to reveal themselves by their actions.
- Knew as God. This is not sharp human insight. It is omniscience, true of none but God, and it gives us complete confidence in Him.
- Knew without sharing. He read the corrupt heart while having no fellowship with it. He was holy, innocent, unstained, separated from sinners.
- Knew, and so withheld. Not a denunciation but the calmest of sentences. God could not trust man. The real question is whether man will trust God.
- Knew, and so offered new birth. Nicodemus is the case in point. Man at his best was unfit for the kingdom, so he must be born from the very beginning.