This is the story in which Jesus-meek-and-mild looks more like Jesus-the-action- figure. In fact, all week I've kept seeing in my mind a picture of Jesus wearing Rambo clothes, looking like Sylvester Stallone, but with the classic soft brown hair and beard of Jesus in paintings. As I've pictured it, this action figure pushes over furniture and other human and animal figures, as if a child were holding the figure and acting out the story. Just to be clear, though, today's gospel story is not about "even Jesus got angry"-as if it's the justification for ways we lose our temper with each other. I used to hear that as a kid. Not from my parents, but from people who seemed to be justifying their own bad tempers. As an adult, I suspect that when we read this story as "even Jesus got angry" it's more about our weakness and the second sin, than it is about the point John was trying to make. You remember the second sin--weaseling out of taking responsibility for what we say and do. Yes, Jesus got angry. But not to give us an excuse for anger and violence. The gospel writer makes it clear that Jesus takes responsibility for both his anger and his actions. He takes responsibility to the point of dying because of it. The gospel writer's real point in today's story is, "Who is this guy?" This is not a theological question. This is personal-it's directed to you. Who is Jesus--to you? Then, what does that require of you?

What Jesus did in the Temple was about his authority on earth, what's appropriate for him to do by virtue of who he is. What he does is about his relationship with God, who was so close to him that he called God "Father-Daddy." What enraged Jesus that day in the Temple was that the dwelling place of the LORD, the Temple, had replaced God and become an idol, a religious end, the subject of adoration. It's due for destruction. John's question of who Jesus is is so poignant as the Middle East literally and figuratively burns. Does Jesus have anything to do with your life? The war? That aftermath of war?

Yesterday's Oregonian had an article about the "religious" reaction to the war. My colleagues in ministry and I have been talking about nothing else. When the lectionary group gets together, the question we ask of scripture is always, "What does this mean in light of war in Iraq?" At meetings, over lunch, in emails, the underlying question is always, "How can we pastor in light of war? Where is God in this? Who is Jesus?" The questions always come down to that.

I was talking to one of my colleagues in Wisconsin just before the war started. He had seen the President's news conference in early March. It was the night before presbytery, so it must have been March 6. My colleague was wrestling with his reaction to Bush's press conference and what it meant now to his own understanding of the war. I'd seen the conference, too. In it, Bush answered each question like a robot, with almost the same response, no matter what the question. My friend thought it was surreal. Until the last question. The President turned to a woman and called her by name. "Yes, April," he said. The way he said, "You have a question," everyone knew Bush knew what the question was going to be. April asked about George Bush's faith life. My friend told me, "I didn't want George Bush to talk about his faith life. I didn't want to know how his prayers impacted his decisions about war. But as a pastor I could see on his face that what he was saying was genuine." My friend said he found himself wanting to hear that Bush was making a crass, political, non-diplomatic decision, and here he was talking about prayer. As if he really meant it. It was humbling, my friend said. "Did I want someone to not make life-and-death decisions about war without asking God for guidance? Just because I didn't agree with either his decision or the process he used to arrive at it, did I have a right to judge his relationship with God? If a man of what is clearly genuine faith can make a decision that I think is wrong what does that say about my faith and decisions? What if I'm wrong?" he asked.

We laughed, but it was ironic. It is so humbling. Someone asked me after last week's sermon-in the nicest way of course-why there was nothing in the sermon about the immanence of war. I thought the whole sermon had been about it! Suffering. I had said that what we get out of suffering is determined by what we bring to it. Jesus was inviting us to take up our crosses, but to take them up on behalf of others. It seems to me that what Christians need to do during war is to pray. Take up your cross-pray as if your life depended on it-do it on behalf of others. Pray for the people making decisions about the war-the strategists, the diplomats, the officers, the soldiers. On both sides. Pray that they will make decisions and take actions which are the least destructive of life and creation. Pray for the civilians, the standers-by, the news media reporting events. Pray for their safety, for compassion. Above all else, pray for peace. Invoking the reign of God helps to bring it about.

When I talked to my Aunt Carol this week, we were agonizing with each other over the war. She had an insight that I found helpful. She said that war is not God's plan, but that God can use even war. Go look up Romans 8 when you get home. Read the whole chapter, but especially the 28th verse. God can use all things for God's purpose. This does not mean all things are what God would have us do. But our God is powerful and loving enough to use all things for God's purposes. As Christians we believe that God can redeem even our blunders. We believe that God can teach even us something when we are open to God's Word and work in our lives. We'd be paralyzed unless we believed that.

As I read Romans 8 this week I thought about hope. The way we talk about hope in our culture, it sounds tentative, almost as if what we mean is, "it might happen." As if that possibility is supposed to keep us going. But the Bible says "hope" is God's reality, as in "it hasn't happened yet, but because God is behind it, we can count on it." On my retreat day, one of the sisters at Mt. Angel said she saw hope in the world situation. What she claimed was a spirit of healing was at work in both the peace protests and in the war. She-and others of my colleagues-sees a world order that is less and less about nation states, more and more about God's justice. When you have this point of view, whether you agree with our going to war or not, you can claim hope. You can act with a confidence that says, "God is using all that happens for God's purpose." As you pray this week about the war, as you pray for peace, be sure to pray that God will teach you-will teach even us-the way to God's kingdom, even in war.