October 22, 2023
Joanna Harader
Matthew 22:15-22

(A video version of this sermon is available on YouTube.)

As many of you know, I went from undergrad to seminary to grad school at KU back to seminary. So I have quite a bit of experience taking tests. I remember that feeling of sitting down and looking at a test–and how it felt quite different if I was faced with a page full of questions with little bubbles for me to note the correct answer to each vs. seeing just a couple of open-ended questions on the page with a lot of blank space for writing after each one.

Many people prefer multiple choice to essay questions. Multiple choice is straight-forward; there’s a clear right answer; you can respond quickly; and even if you have absolutely no clue about the question, you have a one-in-three (or four or five) chance of getting it right. Better yet, give me a true/false question. That’s a 50/50 chance that I’ll pick the correct answer.

The Pharisees come to Jesus with this sort of question: It is lawful to pay taxes to Caesar. True or False.

All Jesus has to do is circle one. Boom. Next question.

But of course that’s not what happens. Because Jesus knows that this is not really a simple true/false question. It’s one of those trick questions where the answer is actually “all of the above” or “none of the above” or where the teacher writes instructions at the top of the test that say “Write your name in the bottom left corner of the paper and turn this in without answering any questions.” 

Jesus was, says Matthew, “aware of their malice.” And so rather than giving a direct answer, Jesus asks, “Why are you putting me to the test?”. There is a difference, you know, between giving someone a test and putting them to the test.

Then Jesus says, “Show me the coin used for the tax.” 

The tax in question was a head tax imposed by Rome when they conquered the region. Every year each Jewish person was expected to pay a set amount for, as Rev. Dr. Ruth Hamilton puts it, “the privilege of being a subject of the Roman Empire.” 

The coin in question was a denarius–equivalent to a laborer’s daily wage. It bore the image of the emperor and his title: “Tiberius Caesar, august son of the divine Augustus, most high priest.” Did you catch that? “The divine Augustus.” The coin itself was considered to be blasphemous and idolatrous, naming an earthly ruler as divine. 

One might even wonder why a Pharisee would carry such a coin–let alone why he would take this graven image into the Temple area. 

One might also wonder if Jesus is testing the Pharisees by asking them to show him a coin–to see and to show those watching that these religious leaders are not following their own rules. Because Jesus–and everyone else–knew whose image was on the coin. They didn’t need a show and tell here.

“Show me the coin used for the tax.” 

This is a loaded request. Followed by a simple question: “Whose head is this and whose title?”

Maybe the Pharisees were relieved by this short-answer question. “Caesar’s,” they say.  Right. OK. 100% so far. 

And then Jesus transforms this true/false test into an essay question: “Give therefore to Caesar the things that are Caesar’s and to God the things that are God’s.” 

The most obvious question inherent in Jesus’ response to the Pharisees is: What things are Caesar’s and what things are God’s?

Is Jesus saying that the money belongs to Caesar because it bears his image? That’s the general interpretation of this passage, but I’m not even sure about that.

Jesus is clearly implying that, while Rome demands money, there are many aspects of people’s lives that belong to God and not to Rome.

This question of what belongs to Caesar–to the empire, the government, earthly authorities–is an important question to consider. But it is not, at least for Anabaptists, a particularly difficult question to answer in the end. 

Very little–if anything–actually belongs to Caesar. (Hopefully I’m not jeopardizing our tax-exempt status here.) It is all, ultimately, God’s. Our money, our allegiance, our lives. Give to God what is God’s. Which is everything.

And that leads us to another essay question embedded in Jesus’ response to the Pharisees. This second question is one I hadn’t really thought about before in connection with this passage. But now that I have thought of it, it’s one that I can’t let go of: How do we give to God?

Paying taxes may not be fun, but they make it pretty easy. You can have money deducted from your paycheck, pay online, mail in a check . . . With giving to Caesar, the “what” and “how much” might be a question, but the “how” is easy enough.

But with giving to God? How do we do that? Especially if we understand Jesus to be implying that everything, ultimately, is God’s?

How do we give money to God? 

We’ll pass around these baskets later, and you are welcome–you are encouraged–to put money in the basket. I think that’s a great thing to do. I give money to the church as a part of practicing my faith. 

But is giving money to the church the same thing as giving money to God? It seems rather presumptuous of me to suggest that.

What about other faith organizations that do good work in the world?  Justice Matters, Family Promise, LINK, Mennonite Disaster Service, Western District Conference, Mennonite Central Committee. Are we giving to God when we give to them?

What about secular groups that care for vulnerable people in our communities? Just Food, the Community Shelter, Harvesters, Heartland Health, the community bail fund. 

Or organizations that enhance our communities through education and the arts? Theater Lawrence, the Arts Center, school fundraisers for bands, orchestras, sports teams, your alma mater.

Or organizations that work at a political level and through the court system to further issues of equity and justice. (I’m not going to list any of these. Fill in your own favorite causes.)

What about taking care of our families? Is money we spend on housing and feeding our partners and our children money that we are giving to God? What about money we spend on their education? What about money we spend on trips with them? On gifts for them? Is this all money given to God?

And what about caring for ourselves as beloved children of God? When I pay my monthly gym membership, am I giving money to God?

It’s one thing to say that we are called to give our money to God. It’s another–very complicated essay question–to figure out what that means.

And what about giving ourselves to God? Several commentaries point out that while the denarius might bear the image of Caesar, human beings–according to Genesis–bear the image of God. So if we, ourselves, belong to God, what does that mean?

You all will not be surprised to learn that I had some very dramatic ideas when I was younger. When I was ten or so I watched a made-for-tv movie about some nuns who were brutally murdered in El Salvador and I thought “that’s what I want to do when I grow up.” For several years I thought that giving my life to God meant going overseas as a missionary–preferably to a very remote and dangerous place.

Obviously, my understanding of a faithful life shifted and now here I am giving my life to God as a pastor . . . and a writer and a wife and a mother . . . 

Honestly, sometimes (not always, mind you, but sometimes) being a pastor feels like kind of a cushy job and I think that others are doing a better job of giving their lives to God: the teachers, social workers, nurses and doctors; the engineers who make sure buildings and bridges don’t collapse on people. Farmers who grow our food. People who make music and art. 

I expect there are as many ways to give your life to God as there are people with lives to give. So how, exactly, do we give our lives to God? . . . I’m not going to answer that question. It’s a question for you to think about this week.

As I’ve lived with this passage over the past few days, I’ve come to appreciate it on many levels.

I appreciate the reminder that we bear God’s image and that, therefore, it is God who has a claim on our lives–not the systems of empire that try to demand our allegiance.

I appreciate the challenging question of how we give our money and ourselves to God. Even if there is no simple short–answer response to that question.

And there‘s something else I appreciate. In the midst of this week’s news: the heartbreaking conflict between Israel and Palestine and the seemingly impossible standoff in the House of Representatives, I really appreciate Jesus’ refusal to answer a contrived “true/false” question. Jesus is not playing the game or taking the litmus test. For important questions of faith–of peace and justice and compassion and integrity–we cannot simply check a box and be done with it.

Just as with so many questions that arise in our personal lives, the questions that we confront in the face of violence and conflict around the world are not multiple choice, but essay questions; not what questions, but why and how and what now questions.

We don’t have time to delve too deeply into the Israel/Palestine conflict this morning–though I hope you’ve had a chance to read some of the thoughtful statements that people have put out over the past couple of weeks–there were some links in Friday’s newsletter. And I certainly do not have the bandwidth to talk about the many failed speaker of the House elections. 

For now, I simply invite you to appreciate that Jesus gives us permission to refuse to answer true/false questions. Like Jesus, we can call out malice, deceit, and disingenuousness when we see it. We can refuse to be put to the test. We can answer questions with even more questions and then sit–with Jesus and each other–in the midst of the uncertainty.