October 16, 2011
Pentecost 18, Proper 24, Year A
Exodus 33:12-23; Matthew 22:15-22
Jesus watches me when I work.
I should probably explain that a little. I have an icon of Jesus near my desk that is written with a technique that many icon writers use so that it feels as if the eyes of the subject are following you. Some days, I look over and Jesus seems calm and understanding. Some days he seems sad. Some days hopeful. And so as I was thinking about our Gospel for this morning, I looked up and saw what I could imagine might have been the look on Jesus’ face when he was confronted with the Pharisees in our story this morning. Knowing, amused, and maybe a little sad.
There’s no question that the Pharisees in our Gospel story are snakes in the grass, plotting to entrap Jesus so that he will be taken away by the authorities and no longer be such a thorn in their side. The intentions behind their question for Jesus are not pure and holy, to say the least. And yet their question for Jesus was actually a really good one.
The Pharisees wanted Jesus to tell them whether it was lawful for them to pay taxes to the Emperor. In those days, Palestine was a colony of the Roman Empire. Jews were forced to pay taxes to support the oppressive army and government that occupied their country. It was a situation not unlike the U.S. in pre-revolutionary war times when we fought against taxation without representation. Except their opposition to the tax was religious as well because the coins that they had to use to pay the taxes were stamped with the image of the emperor Tiberius Caesar along with an inscription ascribing divinity to him. They believed that holding and using these coins was a violation of the first and second commandments (“you shall have no other Gods before me” and “you shall not make for yourself an idol”). And so the Pharisees wanted to hear what Jesus had to say – should they or should they not use these blasphemous coins to pay money to an oppressive regime?
Underlying their question, though, is an issue that we’ve all faced – an issue that most of us face repeatedly, in fact. It’s about much more than money – it’s also about our time and our mind and our heart. How do you balance your obligations? How do you deal with things that seem to be in conflict? How do you organize your priorities?
Jesus gave the Pharisees an answer that, like most of Jesus’ answers, amazed some of his listeners and stymied others and probably angered others. An answer that, like most of Jesus’ answers, has been inspiring and confusing readers and hearers of the Word ever since. “Give to the emperor the things that are the emperor’s, and to God the things that are God’s.”
This passage tends to be used to argue that there are two realms of life that can be kept parallel and distinct – God and church and “spiritual matters” are on this side, and everything else is over here. That’s how I’ve always heard it in the past – as a tidy answer about how to compartmentalize pieces of our lives – how to achieve a proper balance. And yet, look where God generally winds up once this kind of “balancing” is done.
Which part of your money belongs to God? All of it? Or whatever is left once you’ve gotten what your family needs and paid your taxes? Or whatever is left once you’ve gotten that new electronic toy or that new car or that next vacation? Or maybe no money at all, depending on the week.
What part of your time belongs to God? All of it? Or a chunk each day, or maybe all day Sunday? Or just Sunday at church time? Or just the Sunday mornings when your kids don’t have lacrosse, or when the weather isn’t so nice you just can’t stand to be inside, or when you haven’t been out late the night before? Or maybe no time at all, depending on the week.
Which part of your mind belongs to God? All of it? Or whatever isn’t exhausted on work and other pursuits? Maybe that bit of consciousness that’s left over at the end of the day when you’re bone-tired and fall into bed with a quick prayer? Or maybe God gets no thought at all, depending on the week.
What part of your heart belongs to God? All of it? Or enough to be loving to your family and friends with a bit of kindness left for someone on the street? Or maybe just enough for your family and friends when everything is going well and you are in a good mood? Or maybe there’s no love at all, depending on the week.
Starting with the idea of balancing doesn’t seem to work very well for God. Or for us, really, in our journey of faith. It tends to leave us feeling fragmented and guilty, feeling like we are burdened by responsibilities and expectations but not doing anything well. And so, the more I read and study and think and pray about Jesus’ answer to the Pharisees, the more convinced I am that he’s actually saying something else entirely.
I think the key to what Jesus really means might come in one little word that we don’t even get in our translation this morning. This morning we heard Jesus ask the Pharisees to show him a coin and ask them “Whose head is this?” But a better word than head would be image. Give to God the things that bear God’s image. And the Greek word here is actually “eikon”, which is where we got our word for icons.
I think in saying this, Jesus is actually exposing the absurdity of our attempt to divide reality into God’s area and anything else. Because we are all images of God. Caesar might be able to stamp his picture on things, but it isn’t the coins but the people who bear the divine image. We are imperfect, obviously, but we are living images of God nonetheless. As it says in Genesis 1, we are created “in the image and likeness” of God.
So it’s not just a piece of what we have and what we are that belongs to God, but every bit of it. All that we have been, are, and hope to be belongs to God and is a gift from God to us.
God isn’t something to be kept in some kind of balance with all the other demands on our lives – as if some portion of our money, time, mind and heart belongs to God and the rest is ours to mete out. It’s all God’s.
And I realize that might sound a little overwhelming, but it’s actually a great gift. We belong to God -- not as chattel, but as children. We are liberated from that anxiety and burden; we are freed from that impossible attempt to divide our lives between God and whatever Caesar appears to be in control at the moment. There is only one rightful claim upon our lives and it is from the One who is both our source and our destination.
So if everything we have and are is God’s, and our loyalty is entirely to God, how does that change the way we live? Again, I think we get a glimpse in that same word “image” or “icon” that I mentioned before.
I didn’t grow up seeing icons around, so never really thought about them until somewhat recently. When my sister went from being Episcopalian to eastern Orthodox, her priest became somewhat of a family friend and I used to pepper him with all of my (what turned out to be) priest-to-be questions. One thing that I asked him about was icons. I’d visited an Orthodox service and seen the congregation genuflecting in front of icons and kissing them. It went against my more Protestant sensibilities until Father Ray taught me about veneration of icons. The icon is venerated not because of the picture itself but because of the spiritual reality it portrays. Somehow the praise and veneration shown to the icon passes over to the archetype itself. Years later I took a class on prayer at seminary, one part involved praying with icons. I learned a tiny bit about how icons can be for us windows to God, a way of seeing the Word incarnate in a new way. Icons are still not really part of my regular religious practice, and yet I love them and feel comforted by having them around me.
Each of us not only bear the image of God, and therefore belong to God, but in some way we are also living icons to God. We retain our identify as children of God and become windows into the Kingdom of God in everything we do – at work, at home, at school, in our neighborhoods and anywhere else we find ourselves. And it isn’t only that we become icons for others; they also ought to be icons for us. Everyone we encounter is also made in God’s image. Maybe knowing that can make us less inclined to separate ourselves from each other and more inclined to see God in each other. Just as Father Ray taught me that when someone venerates an icon, their love and worship is really flowing to God, when we love another person, maybe we can think of that as passing on to God as well.
Jesus generally doesn’t give us exact boundaries or black and white answers. But he gives us overriding principles like the one we get this morning. Give to God the things that are God’s. The next time you pull out a bill or coin from your wallet, look closely at the claim on it: “In God we trust.” How well do we show that with our lives?
Amen.
Pentecost 18, Proper 24, Year A
Exodus 33:12-23; Matthew 22:15-22
Jesus watches me when I work.
I should probably explain that a little. I have an icon of Jesus near my desk that is written with a technique that many icon writers use so that it feels as if the eyes of the subject are following you. Some days, I look over and Jesus seems calm and understanding. Some days he seems sad. Some days hopeful. And so as I was thinking about our Gospel for this morning, I looked up and saw what I could imagine might have been the look on Jesus’ face when he was confronted with the Pharisees in our story this morning. Knowing, amused, and maybe a little sad.
There’s no question that the Pharisees in our Gospel story are snakes in the grass, plotting to entrap Jesus so that he will be taken away by the authorities and no longer be such a thorn in their side. The intentions behind their question for Jesus are not pure and holy, to say the least. And yet their question for Jesus was actually a really good one.
The Pharisees wanted Jesus to tell them whether it was lawful for them to pay taxes to the Emperor. In those days, Palestine was a colony of the Roman Empire. Jews were forced to pay taxes to support the oppressive army and government that occupied their country. It was a situation not unlike the U.S. in pre-revolutionary war times when we fought against taxation without representation. Except their opposition to the tax was religious as well because the coins that they had to use to pay the taxes were stamped with the image of the emperor Tiberius Caesar along with an inscription ascribing divinity to him. They believed that holding and using these coins was a violation of the first and second commandments (“you shall have no other Gods before me” and “you shall not make for yourself an idol”). And so the Pharisees wanted to hear what Jesus had to say – should they or should they not use these blasphemous coins to pay money to an oppressive regime?
Underlying their question, though, is an issue that we’ve all faced – an issue that most of us face repeatedly, in fact. It’s about much more than money – it’s also about our time and our mind and our heart. How do you balance your obligations? How do you deal with things that seem to be in conflict? How do you organize your priorities?
Jesus gave the Pharisees an answer that, like most of Jesus’ answers, amazed some of his listeners and stymied others and probably angered others. An answer that, like most of Jesus’ answers, has been inspiring and confusing readers and hearers of the Word ever since. “Give to the emperor the things that are the emperor’s, and to God the things that are God’s.”
This passage tends to be used to argue that there are two realms of life that can be kept parallel and distinct – God and church and “spiritual matters” are on this side, and everything else is over here. That’s how I’ve always heard it in the past – as a tidy answer about how to compartmentalize pieces of our lives – how to achieve a proper balance. And yet, look where God generally winds up once this kind of “balancing” is done.
Which part of your money belongs to God? All of it? Or whatever is left once you’ve gotten what your family needs and paid your taxes? Or whatever is left once you’ve gotten that new electronic toy or that new car or that next vacation? Or maybe no money at all, depending on the week.
What part of your time belongs to God? All of it? Or a chunk each day, or maybe all day Sunday? Or just Sunday at church time? Or just the Sunday mornings when your kids don’t have lacrosse, or when the weather isn’t so nice you just can’t stand to be inside, or when you haven’t been out late the night before? Or maybe no time at all, depending on the week.
Which part of your mind belongs to God? All of it? Or whatever isn’t exhausted on work and other pursuits? Maybe that bit of consciousness that’s left over at the end of the day when you’re bone-tired and fall into bed with a quick prayer? Or maybe God gets no thought at all, depending on the week.
What part of your heart belongs to God? All of it? Or enough to be loving to your family and friends with a bit of kindness left for someone on the street? Or maybe just enough for your family and friends when everything is going well and you are in a good mood? Or maybe there’s no love at all, depending on the week.
Starting with the idea of balancing doesn’t seem to work very well for God. Or for us, really, in our journey of faith. It tends to leave us feeling fragmented and guilty, feeling like we are burdened by responsibilities and expectations but not doing anything well. And so, the more I read and study and think and pray about Jesus’ answer to the Pharisees, the more convinced I am that he’s actually saying something else entirely.
I think the key to what Jesus really means might come in one little word that we don’t even get in our translation this morning. This morning we heard Jesus ask the Pharisees to show him a coin and ask them “Whose head is this?” But a better word than head would be image. Give to God the things that bear God’s image. And the Greek word here is actually “eikon”, which is where we got our word for icons.
I think in saying this, Jesus is actually exposing the absurdity of our attempt to divide reality into God’s area and anything else. Because we are all images of God. Caesar might be able to stamp his picture on things, but it isn’t the coins but the people who bear the divine image. We are imperfect, obviously, but we are living images of God nonetheless. As it says in Genesis 1, we are created “in the image and likeness” of God.
So it’s not just a piece of what we have and what we are that belongs to God, but every bit of it. All that we have been, are, and hope to be belongs to God and is a gift from God to us.
God isn’t something to be kept in some kind of balance with all the other demands on our lives – as if some portion of our money, time, mind and heart belongs to God and the rest is ours to mete out. It’s all God’s.
And I realize that might sound a little overwhelming, but it’s actually a great gift. We belong to God -- not as chattel, but as children. We are liberated from that anxiety and burden; we are freed from that impossible attempt to divide our lives between God and whatever Caesar appears to be in control at the moment. There is only one rightful claim upon our lives and it is from the One who is both our source and our destination.
So if everything we have and are is God’s, and our loyalty is entirely to God, how does that change the way we live? Again, I think we get a glimpse in that same word “image” or “icon” that I mentioned before.
I didn’t grow up seeing icons around, so never really thought about them until somewhat recently. When my sister went from being Episcopalian to eastern Orthodox, her priest became somewhat of a family friend and I used to pepper him with all of my (what turned out to be) priest-to-be questions. One thing that I asked him about was icons. I’d visited an Orthodox service and seen the congregation genuflecting in front of icons and kissing them. It went against my more Protestant sensibilities until Father Ray taught me about veneration of icons. The icon is venerated not because of the picture itself but because of the spiritual reality it portrays. Somehow the praise and veneration shown to the icon passes over to the archetype itself. Years later I took a class on prayer at seminary, one part involved praying with icons. I learned a tiny bit about how icons can be for us windows to God, a way of seeing the Word incarnate in a new way. Icons are still not really part of my regular religious practice, and yet I love them and feel comforted by having them around me.
Each of us not only bear the image of God, and therefore belong to God, but in some way we are also living icons to God. We retain our identify as children of God and become windows into the Kingdom of God in everything we do – at work, at home, at school, in our neighborhoods and anywhere else we find ourselves. And it isn’t only that we become icons for others; they also ought to be icons for us. Everyone we encounter is also made in God’s image. Maybe knowing that can make us less inclined to separate ourselves from each other and more inclined to see God in each other. Just as Father Ray taught me that when someone venerates an icon, their love and worship is really flowing to God, when we love another person, maybe we can think of that as passing on to God as well.
Jesus generally doesn’t give us exact boundaries or black and white answers. But he gives us overriding principles like the one we get this morning. Give to God the things that are God’s. The next time you pull out a bill or coin from your wallet, look closely at the claim on it: “In God we trust.” How well do we show that with our lives?
Amen.
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