Sunday 22nd October: Isaiah 45:1-7, 1 Thess 1:1-10 and Matthew 22:15-22
Division, anguish, brokenness, fear, suspicion.
Those things seem endemic right now: across churches, communities, cities, countries.
How do we continue to extend compassion and grace to those who hold different views; who chant different slogans?
Today we hear the first of a series of difficult questions posed to Jesus as a kind of cross examination. It's a question which also reveals something of the political underbelly of life under Roman occupation - some wanted to see open revolt and the empire overthrown; others settled for a live and let live policy.
The question they ask is loaded and dangerous: is it lawful to pay taxes to the emperor. They address Jesus as one who is sincere and teachers the truth of God’s ways; who shows no deference or partiality.
It’s the kind of flattery that is more honest than they realise. Jesus sees and hears the malice. A yes or no would be inflammatory.
So instead Jesus asks to see a coin before posing his own question. It's a request to describe the piece of metal passed between hands: whose image does it bear and whose title?
There is only one answer: the emperor’s.
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A profile which acted as a reminder of his political power and Rome’s status; a symbol of defeat and humiliation to those being occupied too. In fact, one of Augustus’ successors inscribed coins with an image of a bound woman and the words Judae Capta or ‘Judea prisoner’.
Jesus’ response to the answer is one which is not only a statement of fact but a way of realigning or limiting power.
To pay tax is a matter of returning to Caesar what was his. Yet, this foreign occupying power had no claim on all of human life. His answer also asserts God’s ultimate sovereignty. Our lives belong to God - reflected in our devotion and wholehearted service.
Our worship is literally ascribing worth - absolute value and importance to God who is the creator and redeemer of all things. The disciples might pay tax, but they are not paying tribute - that is worshipping the emperor, giving them a central place in their life.
Jesus has found a ‘third way’. As Anna Case-Winters puts it, this is one which ‘is neither the violence of revolt nor the complicity of submission. It amounts to a nonviolent subversion of the oppressive power that does not concede Rome’s sovereignty; only God is sovereign.’
As so often, Jesus responds to the snare of divisive questions by inviting us to consider a harder question: what do we owe to God?
From the opening of Genesis, we know that God created human beings - that we might bear God’s likeness: that means ascribing dignity, worth and value to other human beings, but also that we owe God all that we are, as well as all that we have.
We cannot simply divide the world into a realm belonging to God and a realm belonging to forces of violence, evil and oppression. So what might it mean to dare to say that all things belong to God - and that we are to give God everything in the face of division?
How do we bear God’s image or see God’s image in others when there appear to be so many points of division, splinter groups, culture wars, conspiracy theories; so many hurts, traumas, fears?
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How do we lean into or yearn for such an all-embracing divine reign?
Isaiah reminds us that God’s absolute sovereignty does not override the exercise of human freedom. We are invited to become co-creators in forming and shaping the world.
We too are invited to acknowledge the Lordship of one who does not act on the world from outside it but through the mystery of the incarnation participates in it - in flesh of our flesh, sharing in weal and woe, calamity and joy.
It is this good news that Paul roots his letter to the Thessalonians in: first in giving thanks for them in prayer - and reminding them of the work of faith, labour of love and steadfast hope we are called to share in - through the name and person of Jesus Christ. The one who lived and died and rose again; breaking bonds of suffering and death; rescuing us from oppressive powers.
To be imitators of him, in the power of the Spirit is about committing to the way we live - the means of bridging the gaps and meeting the needs. This is to inhabit the third way - not restoring to violence or complicity but subversion of all that dehumanises.
The language we use and the way we behave makes a difference: the voices we hear or the stories we silence, the behaviours we challenge or the people we protect, the virtues we commend or the sins some will overlook. Do we pursue Jesus’ third way in the choices we make?
To be an image-bearer puts justice, love and mercy centre stage; it invites a consistency between the prayers we say and our actions and decisions. To seek coherence rather than contradiction raises the bar.
Something might be pragmatic or popular, but not necessarily life-giving or just. Do we call it out? Something may be legal but not the most compassionate or merciful. Do we seek an alternative?
In politics and in economics what we render to earthly powers comes after what we render to God. Our way of engaging in the social and political realm is shaped by that prior commitment of faith and trust.
This is to reject an easy path of our own security built on the exploitation of others or at the expense of their suffering. Instead there is the third way of sacrificial love which reaches out to the brokenhearted and challenges absolute force. We do not thrive as individuals, households or communities when we align ourselves with the Caesars of the world.
To pay our taxes is for us part of our contract to ensure the provision of education, health, and public services which support the welfare of all. Every era reimagines the contract of our fiscal-social life - redress balances of power - to find ways of alleviating want and enabling the flourishing of society for the common good.
Some of you will have heard me talk about Love Matters: the Archbishops’ Commission report on families and households - listening to society, reflecting the gospel, challenging the church and influencing policy makers.
It is more demanding to live out our broader convictions and loyalties - including making peace with our political other. We are not only image-bearers but members of the body of Christ: loving, forgiving, generous.
The grace of this is won on the cross. The one who is of the father’s love begotten is cast out of the city to die bearing the weight of God’s marred image in us.
His is the face of endless, sacrificial love - not seen on a coin but placed in our hands as a wafer thin piece of bread, poured out in rich wine which anticipates a new kingdom.
Our loyalty is to such a kingdom - of justice, mercy and peace - whilst other empires fade away. To give God what is God’s is to give our all. It is to notice the Spirit’s gifts - to live the gospel, being eager to do God’s will for the sake of a broken world and in the hope of the kingdom.
© Julie Gittoes 2023
