Pentecost 19A: Money, Politics, & Religion (Oh My!)
Dear Partner in Preaching,
Money, politics, and religion, oh my! Yes, here is a passage that contains three of the things people aren’t supposed to talk about in polite company. (Just add sex and you’d have people running out the doors!) But while the temptation will be the flee to other texts this Sunday or, worse, preach a thematic sermon with little reference to the actual passage at hand, I think that if we can stay with the particulars of this text we’ll discover a lot that is worthy of our consideration.
Let me begin, though, with a question: why is it, actually, that we’re not supposed to talk about money, politics, and religion in the first place? I assume that it’s because these things are felt to be too personal to discuss in public…and too divisive. People feel very strongly about these matters and don’t want to be told what to do. All of which is just why I think we should preach on them – not to tell them what to do but to help them see these issues from the vantage point of their faith. In a study on Vibrant Congregational life I directed a few years ago, congregational members responding to a survey reported that their chief hope for the sermon was that it would help them understand how their faith touched and informed their daily life; how the biblical story, in other words, connected with their life story. Here’s a chance to do just that.
A little background will help. We should be clear, it’s not simply taxes in general that are up for debate here, but a particular tax. Jews in first century Palestine, you see, paid numerous taxes: Temple taxes, land taxes, and customs taxes, just to name three. The tax in question was a particular – and particularly onerous – one. It was the Imperial tax paid as tribute to Rome to support the Roman occupation of Israel. That’s right: first-century Jews were required to pay their oppressors a denarius a year to support their own oppression.
Not that everyone saw it this way, however. Those put in power by the Romans, represented in this passage by the Herodians, advocated supporting Roman “governance” of Israel. Nationalists opposed to Rome, perhaps comprising much of the crowd, found the tax offensive as it was a constant reminder of their humiliation. And the religiously devout, represented by the disciples of the Pharisees, had to pay the tax with a coin engraved with a picture of Caesar Tiberius and a proclamation of his divinity, forcing them to break the first two Commandments.
All of which made the topic of the Imperial Tax tremendously divisive and one’s opinion on it immediately revealing. And herein lies the cunning demonstrated by two normally fractious parties united only by their shared opposition to this young Rabbi who the day before had entered Jerusalem to great acclaim and had been stirring things up at the Temple ever since. With their question about the Imperial tax, Jesus’ foes thought they had him trapped, as he would either disappoint the people by advocating for the tax or put himself in jeopardy with Roman officials by arguing against it.
But Jesus not only evades their snare, he entangles them in their own devices. “Who’s face is on the coin,” he asks. Perhaps over-eager to advance their plot, Jesus’ opponents forget that by procuring a coin they betray their own complicity in the Roman system. For those not paying attention, Jesus makes explicit their self-indictment by asking whose image and proclamation adorn the coin. “The Emperor’s,” they answer, assuring those in attendance that they know full well the face and blasphemous confession of divinity they carry.
All this sharpens the bite of Jesus’ response: “give, therefore, to Caesar, the things that are Caesar’s, and to God the things that are God’s.” And suddenly the tables are turned, as all in attendance confess that everything belongs to the holy One of Israel. With just a few words, Jesus reveals the truth about his would-be accusers and simultaneously calls them to a higher fidelity than they’d imagined.
Might Jesus also be doing the same to us? Oh, not trying to trap us, but rather to invite us to declare our allegiance. Perhaps the key question to preaching this passage isn’t, after all, whose image is on the coin, but rather whose image is on us. It would be hard for Jesus’ audience to listen to his words and not hear echoes of Genesis 1, where God declares the divine intent in to make us in God’s own image. And that’s what always seems to get lost in conversations about money and politics. For while we may feel strongly about our political loyalties, before we are Democrat, Republican, or Independent, we are Christian. And while we may be confident that how we spend our money is our business an no one else’s, yet if we forget in whose image we have been made we may succumb to the temptation to believe that we are no more than the some total of our possessions and that our bank accounts tell a true story about our worth and value.
Jesus raises important questions here, but notice that he doesn’t give pat answers. There are elements of our lives that are, indeed, part of the world order and should be “rendered to Caesar.” But those are elements – our deepest person and self is God’s, and if we remember that, all of life takes on greater focus and meaning. And when I say that – that our deepest self is God’s – I actually don’t mean that in the sense of putting more obligations on us: behave yourself, God is watching! Rather, I mean that as a reminder that no matter what we may do or say, no matter where we may go, no matter what may happen to us, yet we are first, foremost, and forever God’s own beloved child. And that identity will, in turn, shape our behavior, urging and aiding us to be the persons we have been called to be.
Several years ago, one of the pastors of the congregation we attended in Minneapolis put a number of markers in the pews one Sunday morning and after reminding us that all we have and are is God’s – and that all God has and is is also ours! – she invited us to mark one of our credits cards (or dollar bills if we didn’t have a credit card) with the sign of the cross. I did that, and for the next several months it was nearly impossible to buy something and not reflect on whether or not this purchase aligned with my own sense of values and God-given identity. It wasn’t an answer, of course, I had to think for myself about how my faith impacted my decisions about spending. And it wasn’t a burden. In fact, it was rather empowering to be reminded of my identity as a child of God, something no amount of spending or saving could change. What it did was root me in my faith and invite me to actively reflect on how my faith shaped my daily life and particularly my economic life.
I don’t honestly remember if the passage at hand that Sunday morning was this one, but it seems like this might be a fine week to try out such an exercise. God wants more from us, in the end, than polite conversation. God wants for us abundant life. Because while Benjamin Franklin may have once said that death and taxes are the only two certainties of this life, each week we have the opportunity to declare that the one who was raised from death shows us that God’s love is more certain than anything else.
This is a challenging but important word to declare, Dear Partner, and I am grateful for your willingness to do just that. Thank you. Even more, thank God for you. Rich blessings on your proclamation this week and always.
Yours in Christ,
David
PS: Last time around, I suggested a slightly different approach with another participatory possibility. If you’re interested, you can find it here.
Right on! It is refreshing to hear a reminder of our first loyalty and that on what is for we Canadians Thanksgiving Day! I will try that exercise this Sunday. Thank you for this weekly dose of not-so-common sense!
Thank you, David — this is so helpful! I’m probably going to quote Galatians 3:28 this Sunday with a slight addition: “There is no longer Jew or Greek, there is no longer slave or free, there is no longer male and female; [there is no longer Republican or Democrat;] for all of you are one in Christ Jesus.” The bracketed text is from a very recent edition of the manuscript, but I think it fits.
Thanks for your consistently thoughtful observations. Two thoughts:
1. I find it both tragic and ironic that in the previous century those who perpetrated the greatest genocide in human history were those who forgot their primary allegiance.
2. The profound need for a community of faith if we are to discern how our identity and allegiance works itself out in particular contexts. How much easier — though less satisfying — if Jesus had given us static rules. Blessings on you in your still new appointment.
A wonderful reflection again David, thank you. I like the idea of making a cross on the credit card and using it. This is good way to consider our spending habits carefully and to be reminded that we owe everything to God. God bless you.
thank you for your ministry. you do a great job. ideas, stories, commentary that is refreshing and thoughtful.
Thank you, David, for continuing to offer such helpful reflections on the readings for each week, especially for preachers. I like your suggestion about the cross and the credit card, and will speak to my wife about this during our next budget meeting, so that both of us might be more mindful. But I’m left with a nagging question, ever since I met Quakers, Catholic Workers, and Mennonites who continue to practice what has been called “war tax resistence”. (In light of this Gospel reading, I’d prefer to call it “stewardship for the Kingdom/Reign of God, in obedience to Christ, the Prince of Peace”.
My question, as a Christian, is this: is it “lawful” (faithful to the Spirit of Christ, as Paul came to see this), or not, for us to pay taxes–not to Caesar, but to a government elected by the people which, nevertheless, has, in our name, chosen to arm dictators, engage in unjust wars, build and sell cluster bombs, fund abortion clinics, torture civilians, deny anyone labeled a “terrorist” to a fair trial, spy on American citizens without a warrant, and continue to design, test, and build more nuclear weapons? At what point do we need to take responsibility as citizens to acknowledge that this is, in fact, what our elected leaders, both Republicans and Democrats continue to do with the “Lion’s share” of our taxes? (knowing that the “Lamb’s share” may include good things like schools, libraries, fire departments, care for the elderly and infirm, and—still debatable—universal health care).
Currently it is not only “lawful”, it is required of every American earning more than a minimum wage to do this annually. Otherwise, one runs the risk of being labeled an “outlaw”, or having their wages garnished or even put in jail. Yet our Constitution clearly states (roughly)“Congress shall make no law establishing religion, nor prohibit the free exercize thereof”. The free exercize of religious faith is already extended to conscientious objectors (as long as they are complete pacifists, but not those subscribe to the “just war” theory, and may thus opppose serving in an unjust, or undeclared war), especially those from historic “peace” churches. Is it now time for people of faith to similarly claim our own conscientious objection to such unethical misappropriation of our taxes by our elected government, and, instead, to (1) withhold the portion of our taxes which our government uses to fund programs or policies, like those above, which we hold to be unethical, or even evil, and (2) divert this portion of our taxes to those programs or policies which we consider to be consistent with our ethics as followers of Jesus, and, ultimately, citizens of the Kingdom/Reign of God?
These are really important questions, Grant, and I appreciate you raising them. I will answer from a Lutheran perspective, not from a sense of denominational or historical fidelity but because I find Luther’s approach to these matters helpful. First, you are right, there are any number of things that our taxes support that would, I suspect, grieve the heart of God. And, as you also point out, there are all kinds of things that our taxes accomplish that we could not do individually and which gladden the heart of God. How do we separate these out in an imperfect world and with imperfect means run by imperfect people. The Christian tradition has offered a number of responses. I have greatly appreciated the witness of the “peace churches” over the years, and I have appreciated the advocacy of those who, while they cannot be conscientious objectors in general – that is, there are some times and places where using force may seem the lesser of two evils, particularly when protecting the vulnerable – nevertheless advocate for more just use of taxes and try to hold elected officials accountable. There is no easy way to negotiate all these, but I have found Luther’s sense of God’s two hands – sometimes referred to as two kingdoms – helpful. I’ll put a link below to an article I wrote some years ago on this train of thought. Not an adequate response to your questions, I know, but perhaps a small contribution to an important conversation. Thanks for taking the time to share your thoughts and passion. “The Ambidextrous God”, Word & World, 19:3 (1999), 260-67.