Uncommon Sense
Though not at all a morning person, life necessitates that I’m an early riser. Often before the sun these days. But because the shrill of an alarm clock threatens to stop my heart and leaves me cranky and jittery all day long, I don’t use one.
I wake naturally, at the time I told myself I must before fading the night before.
I have a friend who also does not wake to the sound of an alarm, though two separate clocks shriek for her to notice them each morning. Sometimes for an hour. Much like folks who live next to the tracks, she doesn’t hear the train roaring through her bedroom every morning.
Unexpected = Surprise + Interest
For most people, the effectiveness of an alarm clock rises from our brain’s sensitivity to change. Chip and Dan Heath explain in Made to Stick: Why Some Ideas Survive and Others Die that “smart product producers” take advantage of this design:
They make sure that, when products require users to pay attention, something changes. Warning lights blink on and off because we would tune out a light that was constantly on. Old emergency sirens wailed in a two-note pattern, but modern sirens wail in a more complex pattern that’s even more attention-grabbing. Car alarms make diabolical use of our change sensitivity. (p. 65)
The authors’ chapter on Unexpected makes the argument that for an idea to be sticky, it must not only capture our attention (hence, the use of surprise that trips our brain) but also must hold our attention by having interest.
It seems my friend’s alarms might get her attention, ever so briefly, but they lack the ability to maintain her interest long enough to get out of bed.
Ultimately, they propose, once we’ve identified our core message, we seek to communicate it in a way that messes with our brain’s ability to guess what’s coming — and then employ “uncommon sense” to keep us interested in what comes next.
Turning Tables
I know that as I read this book I’d be wise to look the way I communicate and seek to practice these sticky ways. And I’ll do that. But, and I want to be careful to say this without reducing the Gospel to no more than “an idea,” I’m finding that Jesus had this sticky thing down way before the dawn of duct tape.
Already we know that He was masterful with Simple. And if I dare boil the truth of the Gospel down to a single word (the core), I might like to try access. Isn’t that what the small gate and narrow road are about?
At least once He demonstrated His ability to use the unexpected to capture attention and hold it tight.
Consider: Shortly after His arrival in Jerusalem to the soundtrack of cheering crowds, Jesus made a stop at the temple. Rather than following the expected path — paying His atonement money, purchasing an animal and sacrificing the thanks offering like any young, devout Jewish man would have done — Jesus tore through the Court of the Gentiles tossing tables, spilling money, cracking a whip and sending a tightly packed crowd into terrified mayhem.
His bizarre behavior shocked a complacent crowd. He got their attention.
Planned Unexpectedness
I’ve long had this idea that the scandalous scene at the temple equally shocked Jesus when He arrived, provoking this loss of control in a spontaneous fit of rage. But then I consider He must have known before He arrived.
He was God, for one thing. He knew stuff.
And He’d been coming to the temple at Passover for over 30 years. The exploitation in the courtyard was nothing new.
And if that’s not enough, He’d been there the night before.
He left quietly, but returned the next day, His fire fully stoked.
This was no thoughtless, knee-jerk reaction — it was purposeful.
He drove His fierce explosion through the temple court to shake loose a stranglehold that a gang of priests and moneychangers had on access.
Uncommon Sense
Heath and Heath teach that a sticky message will employ “uncommon sense in the service of a core message.” (p. 75)
If the core message is access, look at what Jesus’ fury was all about.
Adult males were required to pay a half shekel of atonement money at the temple. They came for passover from all over the region, but often lacked the native coin necessary to pay the sum. The moneychangers there in the courtyard would gladly change their foreign coin to the proper shekel — for an exorbitant fee.
The poor, especially women, would purchase a dove for their offering, unable to afford a more luxurious animal to sacrifice. The priests ran a dove-selling racket, profiting from inflated prices.
And the animal inspectors would often reject a perfectly acceptable lamb for some feigned blemish, only to require the bearer to surrender the defective lamb and purchase another, again at captive market prices set to line the pockets of the priests and marketers. And those defective animals? It would come as no surprise to see them back in the pens for sale to another hapless pilgrim.
Here, in the temple of all places, where God called His people to meet with Him, access was cut off in the name of heavy weights and bulky profits. The priests and merchants and religious leaders moved God further and further from the people He loved and who sought the delight of His fellowship.
Into that outrage rushed a fearsome Jesus, the gentle healer and hillside rabbi. He turned everything upside down and in so doing proclaimed to the heavens that He came to give us access.
Access.
Did it work?
Indeed. He captured their attention.
And more, He held their attention for more than the moment. The religious leaders ratcheted up their plans for His demise. And immediately following, the blind and lame came and He healed them.
It was uncommon sense in the service of a core message.
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I’m even later this week than last, but the discussion of Made to Stick goes on over at High Calling Blogs. Stop by and read Laura’s post, Unexpected Journey, and stop by to see the posts from other participants. For previous posts in this series, read here.
Definitely more than a moment. 2000 years later and His “planned unexpectedness” still draws men and women to Him. Very, very interesting stuff here.
2010/09/15 at 11:03 PM
He’s got it all, Jennifer — the message and the method. He hooked me…
2010/09/16 at 9:30 AM
Way cool. I love this stuff, and a lot of what you say here is really new to me. I appreciate the historical context.
I’m glad you’re my pastor.
Do you do pulpit-supply in northwest Iowa?
2010/09/15 at 11:04 PM
Careful, you’ll make my head big.
2010/09/16 at 9:31 AM
love it.
I always like learning things with their historical context.
everything is complicated and simple at the same time…
2010/09/16 at 6:09 AM
That, Deb, is the most wonderful mystery of it — how it can be both.
2010/09/16 at 9:31 AM
Although I am not in on the book…I do love reading about what you are taking away from it….once again awesome stuff here.
This one thing reverberates for me here:
“This was no thoughtless, knee-jerk reaction — it was purposeful.”
This is so true with everything. He is in control- nothing he does or has done was a knee-jerk reaction. Which makes his sacrifice for us (me)all the more special.
Thank you, friend!
2010/09/16 at 8:22 AM
His patience, even in this incident, blows me away. It’s all according to plan…
2010/09/16 at 9:32 AM
Thinking of it as “planned” makes it even more meaningful, doesn’t it?
I once heard a lesson by Ray Vander Laan on this portion of scripture in which he made a very good case that the reason Jesus was so upset was that the commerce was being conducted in the only part of the temple that the gentiles were allowed to worship. Because he came for all people, this disruption of their holy worship was extremely offensive.
Imagine how unexpected that would have been tot he Jewish religious leaders. Could this rabbi actually care about these gentiles?
Makes one ponder. Love this post, Lyla. Sorry it has taken me all day to get to you. Big brother wouldn’t even let me in to your blog today so I could peek at your thoughts. Usually I can read, but the comments are blocked. Filter was very fickle today.
But, I’ve got it now!
2010/09/16 at 4:28 PM
He railed against so much when He upturned the tables. We sometimes think, I think, that it was just about rummage sales on the church lawn. This just adds even more to the idea of access, how it was also denied to the Gentiles. Imagine Him going into the place of such reverence and worship, and causing such a commotion.
And no worries. Took me days late to get it done.
2010/09/16 at 7:18 PM
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I have always been troubled by the use of this incident as example of justifiable anger on the part of Jesus and some sort of justification for violent action. As a practical matter, even if Jesus were somehow exhibiting justifiable anger and violence, he is after all Jesus, and I find no indication that he lends any justification to our anger or violence. After all, since again he was Jesus, he was not filled with hypocrisy condemning others for behavior for which he was also guilty in some other place or circumstance. I’m not so sure it is necessary to even insist on this being an act of anger or rage, let alone violence. The first occasion in John 2, where he made a whip, likely was used to drive the animals out, not the men. I can remember the way my mother could shame and motivate me with a withering look of disappointment. This would not be the first occasion when he single handedly stared down a crowd, even a hostile one. Your suggestion that it was planned, leads me even further to conclude that it is not necessary to visualize an angry Jesus. Perhaps the truthful indictment of his words alone caused them to back down and away, especially surrounded by their victims, finally seeing someone with courage and conviction stand up to them. Oh well, just another way to look at it. I would still say however, that it is an enormous sheet of thin ice upon which we should not venture to appropriate the prerogatives of God to think our anger justified by his. This is one of those times when WWJD doesn’t work. Incidentally I am not suggesting that your thoughtful post suggests a connection between the action of Jesus and an excuse for ours.
2010/09/16 at 11:35 PM
David, I like your thoughts here. I don’t have a problem with a Jesus who on occasion showed anger, though. He’s the Son of God, after all, and there’s room in His infinite character for that.
I think He demonstrated that at other times not physically, but with angry words for the Pharisees. It seemed then to come down to the same thing though: cutting off access, tying on heavy weights, keeping people from the Kingdom. That never set well with Him. But the idea that His behavior in the temple was planned makes this for me a controlled, purposeful, meaningful thing that accomplished what He intended. That He took the time to form a whip (I was too long before to even begin to address that) tells me even more that this was thoughtful, not a blind rage. And I agree, there’s no indication He took His physical action to the point of harming anyone, unless there was some natural bumping and bruising just from the chaos He caused in a crowded marketplace.
But at the same time, this would be the same Jesus who “did not open his mouth,” who was led as “a lamb to the slaughter” and was as a “sheep before her shearers.” That too was purposeful, thoughtful, controlled.
I too am troubled when this incident becomes permission for us to act out in anger. Though I believe “righteous anger” to be a true thing, I find it extremely rare that’s what we exhibit, even when we think we do. Most often it’s a self-protective impulse and the “righteous” part gets tossed as soon as our own interests are threatened.
What Jesus did here was specific, for a specific time and purpose — putting an oppressive religious system and its stakeholders on notice — and is not license for any of us to do much of anything.
But is it necessary to see Him as angry? I don’t think so. It helps me to see the depth of His desire that we come to the Father. But the only real “necessary” to see is that, one way or another, He came to with good news for the poor, to set captives free, to be sin for us so we might become the righteousness of God in Christ.
David, I appreciate your insight. You’re far more learned than I, and you always add another rich dimension to the conversation.
2010/09/17 at 7:49 AM
Lyla, you are receiving the unfortunate results of my long standing habit of always taking up the opposite view of my Mother’s opinions, which did not endear me to her, and earned for me from her the Title “Smarter Than The Teacher” My response to your post may well have been a reaction to what I see as an unusual and dangerous level of anger in our society. Anger about one’s personal life situation that is directed toward others who are somehow perceived to be at fault for all our woes. Coupled with an incomprehensible glorification of rage and actually considered and promoted as a Christian and American Value! From a Christian point of view, its a new variation on the “hate the sin without hating the sinner” dilemma. Personally, I prefer sadness as the appropriate reaction to sin in the world, not anger. Jesus wept over the city of Jerusalem, hours before she put him to death, and He weeps today for you and me in our sin. I try to avoid righteous anger, because for me it leads to self righteousness and Holy Arrogance. When Jesus said, Do unto others as you would have others do unto you” we need to remember that he is one of the “others”!! I prefer mercy over justice.
2010/09/17 at 12:13 PM
David, I chuckled at your first comment, imagining Grandma giving you “the look” as we call it around my house.
I hear you. I see no need to glorify anger nor justify violence. And what I do see as His anger seems to always be reserved for not your “everyday sinner” but for your self-righteous powermongers who made impossible what He would give all to bring near. He brought the Kingdom within our reach, and these targets of His ire kept trying to move it back.
One of the things that takes my view of Him always a little deeper and wider around the block is that He never permits us to pin Him to an either-or. We struggle with mercy or justice, wrath or love, any number of at-odds combinations. But He doesn’t. He is perfectly capable of all those things in perfect balance and perfect measure. He is bigger than I’ll ever dream, and He can be all of these things at once.
Even if I’m not “Smarter than the teacher,” which I know I’ll never be!
Thanks Dave.
2010/09/17 at 12:21 PM
Jesus frequently reserved his most penetrating criticism for hypocrisy and its practitioners. I remind myself of that often. Knowing that you are not smarter than the teacher, is the first step to becoming smarter than “being smarter than the teacher”
2010/09/17 at 12:31 PM
hi lyla,
thanks for putting history and life into this.
things i was not aware of.
2010/09/17 at 1:20 AM
Thanks nAncY!
2010/09/17 at 7:50 AM
Somehow, it’s no surprise at all that you selected this story of Jesus turning over the tables to illustrate, Lyla.
Of course, the story doesn’t unsettle you (at least, not much).
Somehow, without me being able to explain why, without knowing you face to face, I sense you would indeed have an affinity for this Jesus — fierce, focused, making things right, turning his world upside down.
2010/09/17 at 6:24 AM
Ahh, Cassandra, and now I sort of wonder who you imagine me to be…
I do have an affinity for this Jesus, but also for that one Who spoke a quiet revolution (ha, there I go) from a hillside starting with meekness, poverty of spirit, hunger and thirst.
I have an affinity for the Jesus who teased a short little man in a tree, who told Lazarus not to let grave clothes keep him from Martha’s home cooking, who told worn out fishermen that fish like to go to school on the right side of the boat.
And of course, I have a profound affinity for the Jesus who could have beckoned legions of angels to save Him but chose instead to hold His ground and save me.
This Jesus did turn His world upside down to make things right, did He not?
2010/09/17 at 8:00 AM
Here’s a question to ponder. Might we all be surprised to find out who are the modern day moneychangers, and what is on their tables?
2010/09/17 at 1:46 PM
Seems to me that the best way to keep from being surprised at that revelation is to always keep open the possibility I might be surprised.
Or, rather, “Is it I, Lord?”
2010/09/17 at 6:47 PM
Sometimes I have a lot of trouble seeing around the beam in my eye while seeing the speck in yours even at great distance. When I was little, imagine that, I use to hear Grandpa Al talk about building tall buildings out of I-Beams, and fledgling Biblical Scholar as I was, thought he was talking about the Beams Jesus was talking about in people’s eyes. Even back then, I was often making people laugh without intending to do so. Come to think of it, some of today’s largest Churches are held up by Eye-Beams.
2010/09/17 at 7:11 PM
I’m torn, eye-beam or I-beam (as in me-beam)?
2010/09/17 at 7:19 PM
Think too much about it, and you will end up with Jim Beam, falling off your balance beam, forgetting to put on you low beams. Oh well, beam me up Scotty!
2010/09/17 at 7:51 PM