October 22, 2017 – The 20th Sunday after
Pentecost, Proper 24A
© 2017 Evan D. Garner
Audio of this sermon can be heard here.
In today’s gospel lesson,
Jesus finds himself in a bit of a verbal trap. For the last three Sundays, he has
been telling parables about disobedient sons, wicked tenants, and ungrateful
wedding guests, and the religious authorities are tired of it. They’re tired of
Jesus telling stories that make them look like self-righteous fools, so they
approach him with a question of their own: “Tell us, Rabbi—sincere, faithful,
impartial rabbi that you are—is it lawful to pay taxes to the emperor or not?”
In front of almost any audience, that would be a tricky question. Remember that
the Jewish people lived under the occupation of the Roman Empire and that they
would have struggled each day to find the right balance between worshiping
their own God and respecting the authority of the emperor who called himself a
god. But Matthew lets us know that this particular situation was even more
treacherous than usual.
The Pharisees had gone
out of their way to bring some Herodians with them. We know who the Pharisees
were—strictly observant Jews who were known and revered for their fastidious
faithfulness. The Herodians are a little trickier to pin down. As far as we can
tell, they were a group of Jesus’ contemporaries who supported Herod the Great
and his successors, which means that they were a political party loyal to
Herod’s children and dedicated to the preservation of their power. The Roman
Empire had chosen Herod and his descendants to administer the Palestinian
territory, to keep peace in the region, and, above all else, to collect taxes
and send the revenues back to Rome’s coffers. In other words, the
super-religious Pharisees, who resented Roman rule in Judea, brought some Roman
sympathizers with them and then, in front of the whole group, asked Jesus, “Is
it lawful to pay taxes to the emperor or not?”
It was a little like
being at the Thanksgiving table and having your mother remark, “Son, I think
your wife’s cornbread dressing might be even better than mine. What do you
think? Is hers better?” Or maybe it was like being a candidate in an Alabama
parish’s search for a new rector and having one of a dozen people ask whether
you cheer for Auburn or Alabama. As soon as the question was asked, everyone fell
silent and leaned forward to hear what sort of answer would be given. For
Jesus, there was no right answer. If he had said, “Yes, of course we have to
pay our taxes,” the Pharisees would label him as a mealy-mouthed rabbi who
cared more about staying out of trouble than standing up for God’s people. If
he had said, “I recognize no authority but that of my father in heaven,” the
Herodians would brand him a traitor and have him arrested for sedition. But
Jesus wasn’t willing to accept the trap that they had laid for him.
“Show me the coin used to
pay the tax,” Jesus said to them. When they brought it to him, he asked, “Whose
head is this and whose title?” That was easy enough, they thought to
themselves. “The emperor’s,” they replied. And Jesus said, “Then give to the
emperor the things that are the emperors and to God the things that are God’s.”
If that sounds like a clever response, it is, but, if you think that it’s
clever because Jesus is giving us a helpful, careful way of divvying up what
belongs to Caesar and what belongs to God, you’ve missed the point. Matthew
tells us that the people “were amazed,” when they heard Jesus’ response. They
weren’t amazed because of how wise the answer was. They were amazed because
they didn’t know what to say. The word that is translated for us as “amazed” also
means “awestruck” or “dumbfounded.”
Clearly the coin belonged
to the emperor. It was his face on it—his graven image that made the coin
itself a violation of the second commandment. The coin and the tax that it
represented were claimed by Caesar. But just because the emperor claims
something doesn’t mean that it doesn’t also belong to God. As soon as the words
came out of Jesus mouth, the people knew. That’s why they were amazed. They recognized
that Jesus had presented to them the same sort of verbal trap that they had
laid out for him. It didn’t matter whose image and title were on the coin. It
didn’t matter whose law required that the tax be paid. Even if the emperor
wanted the coin for himself and even if the people were willing to give it to
him, it still belonged to God.
Everything belongs to
God. They knew it, and we know it, too. It doesn’t matter whether we mail it
off to Uncle Sam or keep it in our bank account. It doesn’t matter whether we
put it in the offering plate or use it to buy lottery tickets, booze, and
women. The question for us isn’t to whom it belongs. It all belongs to God. The
question is how we will decide use it.
People don’t like it when
preachers and lay leaders talk about money, and this is the time of the year
when they seem to talk about it a lot. I think the reason that we don’t like it
is because people in my position typically ask the same sort of guilt-laden,
grace-denied question that the Pharisees and Herodians asked of Jesus. In some
form or another, it sounds like, “How much of your money are you supposed to
give to God?” But that’s a trap that can’t really be answered. The question implies
that we can separate what belongs to us and to the government and to our creditors
from what belongs to God. I don’t want to ask that kind of question because I
don’t believe that there is any room for “should” or “ought” or “supposed to”
in the gospel. Instead, I want to invite you to ask yourself what God is
calling you to do with God’s money.
When we remember that it
all belongs to God and we stop thinking about stewardship as a tax on the
blessings we have been given, we discover what it means to dedicate joyfully our
resources to the transformation that God is carrying out in our lives, in this
parish, in our community, and around the world. You aren’t being judged on
whether you give more to the emperor than you give to God. You are being
invited to use God’s money to make God’s kingdom come—in your heart, in this
church, and in the world. You don’t get to choose to whom the money belongs. It
already belongs to God. But you do get to choose how you will use it, and that
choice belongs exclusively to you.
My family and I have
found that by giving away more and more of our income we have learned what it
means to dedicate our whole lives to God. This year, we gave the first 13% of
our income as a pledge to this church in addition to our gifts to the diocese,
to other charities, and to the capital campaign. That kind of giving has taught
us what it means to trust that God will take care of us. We don’t worry about
money or my job or our retirement or even about putting four kids through college.
Instead, we’ve found a financial discipline that enables faith to take those
worries away. We hear God asking us to dedicate our whole selves to the work of
making God’s kingdom a reality here on earth, and our giving is how we begin to
make our whole selves available to answer that call. And this year, like every
year, we want to grow even more in that part of ourselves that we give back to
God.
God isn’t asking you to
give a particular amount, and neither am I. Instead, God is asking for your
whole life to belong to him, and it’s my job as your priest to invite you to
see that. God wants you to experience the transformation that God’s kingdom
brings, and your gifts are part of what makes that transformation happen. The
money, the time, and the energy at your disposal already belong to God. How
much of them you will give is up to you. What portion of God’s blessings is God
inviting you to devote to that kingdom’s work? What percentage of your life is
God calling you to give back to him? This week, spend some time praying about
the coming of God’s kingdom and your part in it. Don’t ask God how much you
should give. Instead, ask God to show you how much you can give. Ask him to
show you what it means to belong completely to God. Next Sunday during church,
we will pass out pledge cards and decide together how much of ourselves we will
devote to what God is doing at St. John’s. My hope and prayer is that all of us
will know what means to belong completely to God and the freedom and faith that
flow from that truth.
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