“My house shall be called a house of prayer.” – Matthew 21:13
We don’t often think of Jesus as angry.
Yet on the Monday of Holy Week, that’s exactly what we see.
Not a moment of impulsive rage, but of deliberate disruption.
He walks into the Temple—the most sacred place in Jerusalem—and begins overturning tables, scattering coins, and driving out those who had turned worship into a business.
And he says, “You’ve made this into something it was never meant to be.”
It’s a jarring scene.
But it’s also a deeply spiritual one.
Because Holy Monday isn’t just about what happened in a temple two thousand years ago.
It’s about what happens every time we allow what is sacred to become cluttered by the unnecessary.
It’s about clearing the space within us—the inner temple—so we can become a house of prayer again.
The Sacred Space Within
In Celtic Christianity, there’s a beautiful understanding that the body is not separate from the soul. That the divine presence is not confined to buildings, but is found in the land, the sky, the sea—and the human heart.
You are a temple.
And like the one Jesus entered, your inner space can become overrun.
Not with market stalls or coins, but with noise. Pressure. Old stories. Expectations.
Good intentions that have turned into burdens. Spiritual practices that have become performances.
Love that’s been crowded out by fear.
Holy Monday asks us to pause and ask:
What tables need turning in me?
What no longer serves the sacred?
What has become a transaction when it was meant to be a connection?
Disruption as Mercy
It’s tempting to see this moment in the gospel as violent or harsh.
But look again.
What if this disruption is mercy?
What if Jesus isn’t attacking, but liberating?
What if clearing the temple is his way of making space for us to come back to what matters most?
Sometimes the holiest thing we can do is to stop pretending everything’s fine.
To let something fall over.
To let go of what no longer fits.
Disruption can feel uncomfortable—but it also creates room for a deeper kind of stillness.
Not the stillness of control, but the stillness that comes after the clearing.
The stillness of a heart made spacious again.
A Reflection for Today
Holy Monday is not a day for busyness.
It is a day for honesty.
For naming what’s grown noisy.
For noticing what’s been squeezed out.
For gently, bravely, letting Jesus come into our inner space and rearrange whatever needs rearranging.
You don’t need to fix everything.
You don’t need to throw yourself into some kind of spiritual frenzy.
Just make space.
Open the door.
Let Love enter.
And let him show you what no longer belongs.
A Practice
Take ten quiet minutes today.
Light a candle. Sit still. Ask yourself:
- What have I allowed into my inner temple that is draining, not sacred?
- What would it feel like to let it go—not forever, but for now?
- What would it mean to become a house of prayer again?
If you feel led, do one small act of clearing today.
Maybe you literally tidy a space.
Maybe you turn off your phone for a few hours.
Maybe you simply breathe, and say, “Come, cleanse this space.”
Final Thought
Holy Monday reminds us that peace sometimes begins with disruption.
That healing begins with honesty.
And that the presence of God is not something we earn or chase, but something we uncover—when the clutter is cleared, and the heart is ready again.
Let the temple be cleared.
Let the silence return.
Let the sacred rise again.
Feeling lost, stuck or disillusioned on your path?
Take a look at
Walking Together
Ancient Whispers 
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