Sermon text - The Things That Are God's - Stewardship I

Matthew 22:15-22

The Things That Are God’s – Stewardship 1

James Sledge                                            October 16, 2011

If you remember your Revolutionary War history –  Thomas Jefferson, George Washington, and so on – you likely recall that one of the major complaints against British colonial rule was “taxation without representation.”  Many colonists insisted that because they had no seat in Parliament, taxes could not be duly levied on them.  A tax on tea sparked the famous Boston Tea Party, and eventually armed rebellion broke out.

Most of us have heard how fighting began at Lexington and Concord in the spring of 1775, leading to the Declaration of Independence the following year.  Most of us learned the highlights of the Revolution in school.  But that history generally didn’t say much about how divided the colonists were over the war. 

Best estimates suggest that the drive for independence was supported by less than half of American colonists.  Probably just under a quarter favored remaining part of Britain, while the rest mostly tried to remain neutral, hoping they would be able to get along with whichever side won.  Many loyalists actively fought alongside the British, and there were terrible atrocities committed by rebels against loyalist neighbors, and vice versa.

I mention this because there was a rough parallel in Jesus’ day.  Palestine was a colony under Roman rule. Rome did allow the locals a certain level of self-governance, but Rome retained ultimate power, and they levied taxes that were often quite onerous, especially on the poor.  Many Jews resented the Romans, their armies and taxes.  Open rebellion had broken out around the time of Jesus’ birth, and would break out again some 30 years after his death. 

But other Jews had found the relationship with Rome more to their liking. 

To them the stability and commerce that Rome brought more than outweighed the problems with Roman power.  Besides, with only brief exceptions, Jerusalem had been under the control of some foreign power for centuries.

In our gospel reading this morning, a group of people come to Jesus hoping to trap him.  This group is made up of both those who despise Roman rule, and those who find it beneficial.  You wouldn’t expect Pharisees and Herodians to have anything to do with one another.  But they think Jesus a big enough threat to put aside their differences, to cooperate in dealing with this dangerous, would-be Messiah.  They hope to force him to side with one group or the other, and in the process, turn either the crowds or the Romans against him.  “Is it lawful to pay taxes to the emperor, or not?”

The question is more difficult and volatile than we may realize.  The Roman tax could only be paid with a Roman coin, a coin that not only had a likeness of the emperor on it, but on the reverse side had the Emperor Tiberius’ name with an inscription declaring him “divine son of Augustus.”  For Pharisees, who meticulously tried to keep the Commandments, the coin itself, with its divine pretensions, violated a couple of them.  Yet when Jesus asks to be shown such a coin, his opponents have one on them.  Maybe it was one of the Herodians, but curious that the Pharisees seem not to be bothered by this idolatrous coin. 

“Whose head is this, and whose title?” Jesus asks.  That is not in dispute.  It is the emperor’s.  “Give therefore to the emperor the things that are the emperor’s, and to God the things that are God’s.”  Or as some of us learned from an earlier Bible translation, “Render therefore unto Caesar the things that are Caesar’s…”

Speaking of Bible translations, I’m not sure what the NRSV scholars were thinking when they translated Jesus’ question, “Whose head is this?”  The NIV is no better, with “portrait” rather than head.  But the word Matthew writes in his gospel is the same word he reads in his version of the Old Testament where God says, “Let us create humankind in our image.”

When the Emperor Tiberius puts his image on coins, it is an explicit statement about whose coins they are.  It was not unlike the branding that is still practiced today.  Companies emblazon their names and logos on the buildings and equipment they own. 

“Whose image is this?...  Give therefore to the emperor the things that are the emperor’s, and to God the things that are God’s.” 

Of course Jesus does not say which things are the emperor’s and which are God’s.  Does Jesus agree that the emperor’s image on the coin makes it his?  And what about the image of God the Bible says is part of our created nature?  Does that mean that we, in some way, belong to God? 

The earth is the Lord’s and all that is in it, the world and those who live in it.  So begins Psalm 24, a psalm that Jesus no doubt knew well.  “Give therefore to the emperor the things that are the emperor’s, and to God the things that are God’s.” 

Not long after Martin Luther nailed his 95 theses to the church door and unintentionally sparked the Protestant Reformation, other Protestant movements sprang up in Europe.  Along with the Lutherans,  the Reformed tradition (of which we Presbyterians are a part) emerged around the teachings of John Calvin.  Reformed thought and Lutheran thought shared much in common, but they diverged significantly in their understandings of the Lord’s Supper.  As these two movements spread, they bumped into each other at the German town of Heidelberg.  Tensions between the two groups worried the ruler of that area, and so he asked two prominent Christians in Heidelberg to come up with a theological statement that would be acceptable to both sides.  The result was the Heidelberg Catechism, published in 1563 and now one of eleven statements in our Presbyterian Book of Confessions.

The very first question of that catechism reads, “What is your only comfort, in life and in death?”  The answer begins, “That I belong – body and soul, in life and in death – not to myself but to my faithful Savior, Jesus Christ…”  This is echoed in opening of the most recent addition to our Book of Confessions, “A Brief Statement of Faith.”  We use a portion of it as our profession of faith today and it begins, “In life and in death we belong to God.”

I wonder if we realize what counter-cultural statements these are.  We are much more like to hear the opposite.  Someone chastises a wealthy person for his opulence and ostentation and he responds, “What right do you have to tell me what to do with my money?”  Back when a smoking ban for restaurants and bars was being debated, it was common to hear, “What right does anyone else have telling me what I can or can’t do with my body?”  And if someone suggests to a bright college student that her career choice should not simply be about income potential and what she enjoys, but also about what would benefit others, we would not be terribly surprised to hear her respond, “It’s my life, and I’ll decide what I want to do with it!”

The correctness of smoking bans or certain career choices aside, what all of these statements have in common is the notion that I am my own.  My life belongs to me, to do with as I choose.  And how dare anyone tell me otherwise.

It is not uncommon in our day to hear complaints about how secular society has become.  In just a few weeks someone will surely be yelling about the “War on Christmas” because Target or Wal-Mart  have signs that say “Happy Holidays” rather than “Merry Christmas.”  But if our culture is corrosive to Christian faith, and I would agree that it often is, I don’t think “Happy Holidays” is a significant part of the problem.  What certainly is, however, is the notion, shared by very many Christians, that I am my own, that I, and I alone, know what is best for me. 

Whose image is this?  On a coin, on me?

“What is your only comfort (your only hope, assurance, and joy), in life and in death?  That I belong – body and soul, in life and in death – not to myself but to my faithful Savior, Jesus Christ…”  In gratitude and in love, let us give to God the things that are God’s.