What to give to the Emperor?
Sermon preached by the Rev. Lowell E. Grisham, Rector
St. Paul's Episcopal Church
October 16, 2005; 22nd Sunday after Pentecost; Proper 24, Year A
Episcopal Revised Common Lectionary
(Matthew 22:15-21) –
Then the Pharisees went and plotted to entrap him in what he said. So they sent their disciples to him, along with the Herodians, saying, "Teacher, we know that you are sincere, and teach the way of God in accordance with truth, and show deference to no one; for you do not regard people with partiality. Tell us, then, what you think. Is it lawful to pay taxes to the emperor, or not?" But Jesus, aware of their malice, said, "Why are you putting me to the test, you hypocrites? Show me the coin used for the tax." And they brought him a denarius. Then he said to them, "Whose head is this, and whose title?" They answered, "The emperor's." Then he said to them, "Give therefore to the emperor the things that are the emperor's, and to God the things that are God's." When they heard this, they were amazed; and they left him and went away.
Jesus' questioners would be good members of the Congressional Judiciary Committee or maybe interviewers for CNN or Fox News. They toss him a hardball question. It's a clean either/or proposition dealing with a current political hot potato: Is it right to pay taxes for Roman troops to occupy Israel? If Jesus says "yes," he's cooperating with or condoning Roman oppression, and he loses credibility with many Jewish idealists who dream of freedom. If he says "no," he marks himself as a possible traitor and opens himself to arrest for sedition.
"Show me a coin." One of the questioners gives him a denarius. "Whose image is on it?" In all likelihood, it bears the bust of Tiberius the Emperor. On one side the coin shows the bust of Tiberius and names him "son of the divine August;" on the other side is another title, "Pontifex Maximus" -- Chief Priest. Pious Jews did not carry such coins.
"Whose head is this and whose title?" Jesus asks. The Emperor's. "Give to the Emperor the things that are the Emperor's, but give to God that which is God's." It is a perfectly ambiguous answer. Worthy of any Supreme Court nominee. Does Jesus mean, (maybe spoken with a touch of condescension) "It's got the Emperor's image on it, give it back to him"? Or is Jesus reminding his listeners that all of creation belongs God's and is never to be appropriated for ungodly means? Or is he dividing realms of authority? This goes to the state and that goes to God. It's hard to say.
They've invited Jesus' voice to the table for some political conversation, and they get an earful. That's what happens when you invite the left-out voices to the political table. Sometimes you get some options you haven't thought of yet. Sometimes you get opinions you don't want to hear. Sometimes you get the ambiguity and chaos necessary to raise the conversation to a higher level and a wider possibility.
Archbishop of Canterbury Rowan Williams says that politics is the activity of asking how we build a world together. We learn from each other, exploring together our common humanity, to seek the common good. And, he says, it is critical that every voice be brought to the table, committed to negotiate in the pursuit of the common good.
It's like learning to play music together. Imagine a large and diverse group of musicians thrown together in a concert hall. How will they organize themselves? How will they build a musical world together. All of the trombones could say, "Here, all the trombones are going into that room over there so we can play our trombone music." And everyone else would set their energies to finding suitable rooms for their own instruments, well sound-proofed rooms so they won't be bothered by the others. Then you've still got the problem of the violinists and the fiddlers. Should they really be in the same room together?
Or maybe some instruments with especially loud voices could organize the whole group and impose upon them a vision of what kind of music is the right kind of music. They would need to be forceful enough to ensure cooperation. "We're all going to do baroque chamber music. Drummers, away. Trombones, backstage."
But there is another way. It's messy and sloppy. There will be some chaos at times. Imagine a conversation involving all of these musicians, sharing their gifts, their visions, and their talents. Negotiating; criticizing; listening carefully to hear the possibilities for one another. Sure there would be a prima donna who wants to take over or a group or virtuosos who would try to turn the whole endeavor into an exhibition for their own instruments. But imagine what might happen if they all hung in there working together in such a way that would honor the gifts of all in a cooperative musical venture.
I imagine none of the players would end up with exactly what they may have wanted or imagined. There would have to be some accommodation. Some instruments would have to constrain themselves a bit in order to play with others. It would take a lot of imagination, wouldn't it? It takes time and listening to move from the cacophony of all of those voices, through the tuning and listening, toward the possibility of creating great music together. But there is the possibility that each musician could learn to play his or her own part with integrity, passion and energy, while simultaneously discovering the richness of the harmony they are creating in a whole that transcends the sum of its parts, a "free symphony of distinct wills." 1 That's an attractive vision for the political process, for the work of building the world together.
When Jesus proclaimed his mission, he used political language. "The Kingdom of God has come near." He did not use pastoral language -- "the family of God" -- or philosophical/religious language -- "the ideals of God." He proclaimed a Kingdom. The dominion of God.
His pictures of the Kingdom of God are diverse and compelling. It is like a shepherd looking for one lost sheep, the return of a prodigal son, a good Samaritan's care for a stranger, a time when the lame walk, the blind see, and the prisoners are released. In this kingdom the poor, the meek, the mourners, and the searchers are blessed. Debts are forgiven His appeal is to the little, the least and the lost. He describes the Kingdom as a great banquet where all sit down together and are served by the King. It's greatest moment of power is the death of an innocent, who chooses love and forgiveness over domination.
The Emperor's kingdom is a bit different. The Emperor's rule is about power. It is about the three "P's" -- power, prestige and possessions. Jesus' Kingdom is about the three "C's"-- communion, compassion and co-creation. The Emperor needs to hear the music of the Kingdom of God.
How can we foster conversation between Jesus and the Emperor? How can we get the different instruments out of their own little rooms and into the concert hall where they can begin to learn how to play together? I don't have a real answer to that question, except that we should all pick up our horns and insist on playing together. We all need to exercise our voices.
It's not easy. There was a time when religious activity could court arrest and even execution. In the early church, to confess that "Jesus is Lord" was also to say that the Emperor is not. Some Christians who were unwilling to confess that the Emperor is Lord found their freedom and sometimes their lives taken from them. There are reasons why the book of Revelation refers to Rome as Babylon and the Emperor as the beast.
In other periods of history, we know that there was collusion and close friendship between church and state. Usually that hasn't worked out too well. The church has often lost her voice through collusion with the state.
The traditional role of religion vis a vis the state is one of prophetic criticism. Traditionally the church has sought to raise to public consciousness toward Jesus' vision of the Kingdom of God. An important part of that role has been to pass a microphone to those voices and instruments that may have been shuffled offstage or muted by the more powerful players. In a world where it is usually all about money -- power, prestige and possessions -- the church has been called to give a crescendo to the softer strings of communion, compassion and co-creation.
Jesus didn't give his listeners a clear answer to their question, and I guess I haven't given a clear answer either to the question, "What is God's and what is the Emperor's?" It's not easy to answer. But Jesus gives us clues how to have conversation. What kind of humanity does our politic foster? Look especially to the ones whom he addressed most centrally -- the little, the lost, the least. Then offer ourselves to the vulnerable and ambiguous conversation about the common good -- committed to the negotiation, the give and take without guarantee of success. And whenever we can, give unto God the things that are God's.