130. Money Changers

A few days ago my husband and I were in New Orleans. We had a few hours to kill so we decided to walk around for a bit and see what the city had to offer. As we wandered, we came across a large park. Down the side of the park were several painters selling their work. We were interested so we followed the path of artists and our walkway opened to a large open courtyard. At one side of the courtyard was the far end of the park we had followed. Just across from it stood a Cathedral. Though I am not Catholic, I truly appreciate the beauty and artistry that goes into these wonderful buildings. 

My first reaction as we stepped out into the courtyard was awe and excitement. It didn't take me long, though, to be distracted from this glorious tribute to God. Filling the courtyard were several types of street vendors loudly hawking their wares. There were usual trinket merchants that accompany many tourist attractions, but what really caught my attention was the street magicians and fortune tellers.

Now, I know that New Orleans is known for its connection with magic. And I'm not the type of person who is bothered by magic generally. I'm a huge Harry Potter fan. I enjoy watching stage magic. I like "The Princess and the Frog." But this was different.

What appalled me so much about these people was that they sat there on the steps of this holy building, this place dedicated to the powers of God, and tried to sell me this power. They dared take something sacred and twist and mar it for their own profit. And they did it right there. They chose that spot because it was well-traveled. They chose it because the people who visit a Cathedral believe in the power of God and the miracles it can perform. And they act as if they can use that power and provide those miracles.

I was sickened as I walked past them but as I entered and the doors of the cathedral closed behind me, the sounds of the vendors were cut off and peace surrounded us. We spent several minutes in the quiet reverence of the cathedral, listening to the hymns of devotion, looking at the beautiful artwork, and just taking in the peace and harmony that comes from worshipping in a sanctuary dedicated to God. By the time we left I had almost forgotten the chaos that waited outside the doors. I

 was so happily wrapped in the peaceful spirit of the sanctuary that opening the doors again felt like a physical blow. My peaceful moment was ruined in an instant and I felt immediately that I finally understood what the Savior must have felt when he came to the Holy Temple and found the money changers selling their goods for a profit. I can understand why he threw them out and overturned their tables. I can understand his anger. Because I was angry and I wanted to do the same. I wanted to run at the fortune tellers and the magicians and cry at them to leave the holy place. I wanted to send the vendors from the spot and wash the courtyard clean of the stink of their wares and their smoke and their drinking. I wanted to cry for the desecration and destruction of what must once have been a truly wondrous entrance to and exit from this lovely, spiritual place. 

I know that this is not what should be expected when visiting a church of God, but I also know that this is not a unique situation. I can only look forward to the day when the Savior comes again and this tragedy becomes no more.