The Ripped Veil

Matthew 27:45 - 56

It’s been three weeks since the resurrection of Jesus. He spent some time walking around, talking to folks, cooking them breakfast, and empowering them to continue his work. In between those visitations and since, I imagine the followers of Jesus were thinking about the events of the previous weeks. Stories were being told, shared, and embellished upon. Myth and legend about what happened began to develop.

Today I want to focus on verse 51 – “At that moment the curtain of the temple was torn in two, from top to bottom. The earth shook, and the rocks were split.” Is this legend and myth or is this fact? Does it matter either way? Since it’s included in all three synoptic gospels – Matthew, Mark, and Luke – it must important. Ted Jennings in his book, “The Insurrection of the Crucified” talks about how this veil represented “the very principle and foundation of religion.” (pg 294) This veil separated the holy from the unholy – the sacred from the ordinary. This veil that is said to be ripped from top to bottom at the death of Jesus is foundational to the core of religious hierarchy.

What is a foundation? The foundation of something is what everything else is built on. It is unseen most of the time. This veil, sometimes called a curtain, was no different. The temple was constructed so that the veil was deep inside the holy place. God was said to actually be behind the veil. The high priest only went in there once a year on the day of atonement. The writers of the gospel are telling us about something that happened that they could not possible have actually known. It isn’t like folks were in the temple worshipping and could see the curtain rip. They didn’t have security cameras with a time/date stamp. The curtain was only seen once a year by the high priest and this wasn’t that time of year. The writers are making a point here – a crucial point about the meaning of Jesus’ death … the meaning of his sacrifice. I don’t believe it’s the only point – but it’s big.

It cost Jesus his life in a brutal way to stand up against the religious and political powers of his day. But the ripping of the veil represents what it cost the powers. The cost to the powers is that their very foundation was torn asunder. This caused everything that they thought was stable to crack and shake. The earth, it says, shook and the rocks split open.

It was believed that if you went to the place in the temple where the veil was – a place in a separate room behind a cedar door – and you weren’t the high priest on the day of atonement, you had a death wish. God would not tolerate such impertinence. Now the veil is ripped open. Does that mean the power of God is unleashed and everyone is going to die? Does the power of God get contained in the room? What happens when the door gets opened? Or does it mean that the separation between The Holy and the human is no longer? Does it mean that God doesn’t want to be separated anymore?

The religious hierarchy – the puppet masters of the people – does not have exclusive rights to the presence of The Holy anymore. They thought that by executing the movement’s leader that they would gain back control, but the opposite happened. Even before Jesus’ resurrection, their very foundation split in two exposing what they thought was safely hidden away, that they were keeping people from God.

As the Jesus movement grew, the leaders, I imagine, reflected on the events and teachings of Jesus as well as the teachings they had grown up with. They started making connections between things. The second chapter of 1 Peter says we are a royal priesthood. I see a direct connection between our being a royal priesthood and the temple curtain being ripped in two. With the curtain ripped, there is no longer any separation between The Holy and the human. We have no need of a priest to hide himself once a year to offer animal sacrifices on behalf of the sins of the community. We are our own priests.

But what does that mean? Are we supposed to offer animal sacrifices for ourselves? I hope not. I don’t have the stomach for that. What was the essential office of the priest? Yes, they performed animal sacrifices as well as food and drink offerings. They performed blessings, too. But the essential office of the priests was to mediate between the people and God. It was through the sacrifices, offerings, blessings and so forth that they did their mediation. The tribe of Levi was chosen to be the priests. They were not allowed to own homes or land. When all the other tribes were being given their land, the portion of the Levites was God. They were given God as their portion. That meant that the people had to support them. It was through the offerings and sacrifices of the people that the priests lived. You can see how this might become a booming business for the Levites. Sure they couldn’t own land, but the people sacrificed the best of what they had, and gave it to God, by giving it to them. They had a lot of control.

Now the curtain which separates The Holy from the human – the sacred from the ordinary – is rent. The requirement for a mediator is abolished. If we are priests, then The Holy has become our portion. As wonderful as that sounds, there is a flip side to it. If we are all priests, does that mean we can’t own anything? Does that mean we can’t own a house or buy our own food? No. I think it turns the whole system upside down. I think it means that we need to redefine what it means to own things. We need to redefine what it means to be in a community. If we are all priests, and we all can draw near to the holy of holies, there is no need for a religious hierarchy. When I say things like this to folks I’m often challenged with the question, “So what do we need you for?” That’s a good question. If we reject the idea of religious hierarchy, then why do we need ordained clergy?

The crux of the matter for me is the hierarchy. I do not bring you closer to The Holy. I do not have any extra power than anyone else. I have some training to read the literature that we call sacred, and my calling as a pastor is to devote myself to my people in prayer, and study, and ritual leading. I also don’t believe in professional hierarchy. I don’t think a doctor should have any more rights or privileges than a patient. Neither do I believe that an executive should have more rights or privileges than a worker. I don’t think a president or senator or governor should have more rights and privileges than anyone else. I don’t think the rich should get better medical services than the poor. I could go on and on, but I’m sure you get my point.

Dismantling religious hierarchy is dangerous for those in power, all across the board. If we believe that we are all priests that will change society. It could obliterate oppression and poverty. No one gets to keep God to themselves or dole God out to others. The Holy is the portion of everyone. How does that change me? How does that change you? How might that change us – us in the little here in this room and us in Chicagoland or Illinois? Take it as far out as you can.

There are a lot of benefits to not needing a mediator to reach The Holy. There’s also a lot of responsibility. Actively living into our priesthood means not putting ourselves above or below others. It means enacting peace in our lives daily. It means honoring others but also honoring ourselves. This is counter-cultural, which means it’s hard and aggravating work. We do it because it is who we are, not for any gain. That too is counter-cultural. It’s hard to wrap our heads around not doing something for gain. We also, though, need to not do it for some higher purpose of suffering. The goal isn’t to do without anymore than it is to gain more. The goal is peace, equality, and unity in diversity. It sounds so idealistic, doesn’t it? Maybe I’m a dreamer – but I don’t think I’m the only one. Will you join me?