It was one of those Saturday morning moments for which I long. Both of my girls were in their playroom, happily occupying themselves (without screens!). There were no sounds of whining, fighting, or Peppa Pig jumping in muddy puddles. It was blissfully quiet. And it was that exact quietness that allowed me to more quickly identify the unexpected sound of the small wooden cabinet tipping over onto my youngest daughter. Quickly following the crash were her panicked screams as I darted across the room to lift it off of her.
As she was attempting to pull a puzzle out of one of the cabinet’s four drawers, she must have put too much of her body weight onto the bottom of the drawer, and the entire unit tipped onto the ground, nicking her forehead ever so slightly and terrifying all three of us, snapping the bliss right out of the moment. I never expected that cabinet to fall, and I certainly did not see it coming at that time. I suppose the element of surprise more effectively garners our attention than a scheduled flip of the cabinet.
I’ve always loved the story of Jesus flipping tables in the temple. I’m sure, at some point, I used it to justify my own anger—righteous or not. But, more than that, I appreciate seeing this side of Jesus. It feels like a fuller picture of this human being who embodies such gentleness, but not only gentleness. And, let’s be honest, he certainly knew how to capture the attention of the room, snapping those vendors right out of whatever economical bliss they might have been experiencing in the temple that day.
What was Jesus trying to do by flipping those tables? I believe he was, in part, calling on people to pay attention and have some awareness about their environment and how they are contributing to or participating in it.
Maybe we are not the ones flipping the metaphorical tables ourselves, but what will we do when tables around us are being turned?
It’s not hard to find ourselves in the general vicinity of one or more tables being tossed around. Simply log on to social media, for example, and you will not have to search very hard to find a number of people who are angry about some form of injustice, and they are asking us to wake up to the reality of it.
Does every flipped table require our response? Of course not! Not all anger is rooted in healthy or helpful soil. But there is a communal nature to the flipping of tables, when a person or group is attempting to draw attention to behaviors that need to change. I did not flip the cabinet that was pinning my youngest daughter to the ground, but I was rightfully being asked to respond.
Will you notice when the tables around you are flipping? What action is being called forth in you? Will you ignore it or will you move? Sometimes a table is flipping without us putting a hand on it, but then our work becomes clear.
Once my daughters and I had calmed down and recovered a little bit of our bliss, I went to inspect the cabinet that caused all of the commotion. Because, if nothing else, the tables we see others flipping can cause us to be curious. I imagine that many people went home from the temple talking about Jesus’s actions that day, and hopefully some of them took time to seriously consider what was behind it. As for me and the offending cabinet? I made some changes to how we use that unit, determined not to allow it to harm our kids in the future.
Maybe you see tables flipping and decide to join in the cause, calling your senators or donating money or time to causes that are on the front lines. Or maybe, sometimes just as importantly, you get still and allow yourself to be curious. Why would someone feel so much emotion about this behavior, that he or she would flip tables over it?
Next time we witness an outburst akin to flipping over tables in a temple, we can respond with awareness, curiosity, and maybe even a quick dart across the room to save someone.
Mallory Redmond embraces anomalies—she is an adventure-loving homebody who keeps a clean house yet always makes a mess while eating or brushing her teeth. She loves dry humor, clean sheets, and gathering around the table with friends. Mallory has two daughters, Evelyn and Annie, who are raising her as much as she is raising them. She uses writing as a way to tell stories that surface the places of connection in our humanity.
I like your analogy using tables. We do have a lot of table-flipping going on in front of us.