Death and Taxes

I wonder how Jesus would have handled the Senate Judiciary Committee. By that I mean to say we’ve seen, during the past three weeks of Gospel readings, that Jesus has been, in some respects, like the current nominee to the Supreme Court of our land, on a “hot seat” during the first two days of the last week of his life, enduring questions from a political party of sorts–the Pharisees–whose purpose is neither to elicit an intelligent response nor to gain some actual insight into our Lord’s theology, but rather to trip him up. The Pharisees, sometimes joined by others, are hoping they’ll catch Jesus in a serious gaffe. In the last three encounters with our Lord, spread out over the last three weekly Gospel readings, his opponents haven’t fared very well in their verbal jousts with the Messiah. Ah, but they’re back for round number 4.

In this week’s reading [Matthew 22:15-22, the Gospel appointed for the Twentieth Sunday after Pentecost, RCL, Year A], our Lord’s opponents are still hung up on the issue of his authority. He’s entered Jerusalem to the popular acclaim of thousands. He’s entered the Temple and disrupted the tables of the money changers, and he’s challenged the political and theological leaders on their own home turf.

There is also supreme irony here: Jesus has succeeded in uniting–at least for a specific purpose–two groups who could never agree on anything. The Herodians, who derive their power from the Romans, desire home rule (even if in the limited form allowed to the various “Herods” before 6 A.D.). The Pharisees are more closely aligned with the oppressed common folk and in opposition to Roman domination. Their theology, at least in principle, is similar to that of Jesus. Yet both groups felt threatened by the young, upstart rabbi from backwater Nazareth. They are sufficiently intelligent to know that if He wins, they lose. And, of course, they’ll kill him before they let that happen.

After unloading some fake flattery, they pose to Jesus yet another question in an attempt to snare him: “Is it right to pay the imperial tax to Caesar or not?” [Matthew 22:17b]. Their question from the Pharisees is rather clever. Rome’s occupation is actually funded by the imperial tax. Should Jesus answer in the affirmative–that it’s right to pay the tax–he’ll lose the adoration of the crowds who hate the Romans and the tax (opposition to this very tax will lead to the disastrous Jewish war of 66-70 A.D., when Rome destroys Jerusalem and the Temple). Should Jesus answer in the negative, he will have painted himself into a corner over and against the Roman authorities. Given the close ties that the Herodians have with the Roman officials, Jesus could then be summarily arrested (and executed) for sedition. Jesus’ opponents are so wickedly smart, or so they think; they have Him trapped.

You remember how the story continues: Jesus says, “Show me the coin used for paying the tax” [Matthew 22:19]. You see, the imperial tax had to be paid with a Roman coin–not a Hebrew one. They quickly produce one; apparently someone in the group had several in his pocket. Jesus asks, “Whose image is this? And whose inscription?” [22:20, emphasis mine].

“Caesar’s,” they reply.

Bless their hearts; they don’t even hear the trap door swing open beneath their feet! The Roman coin contained an image and an inscription. The image was that of the current Caesar, and the inscription: Tiberius Caesar Divi Augusti Filius Augustus Pontifex Maximus (Tiberius Caesar, august son of the divine Augustus, high priest”). Augustus claimed to have descended from the gods. Possession of an image of someone or something that claimed to be a god, and having that image on one’s person, inside the Temple no less, was a clear violation of both the First and the Second Commandments, as any Pharisee would have known. And yet, here they are, gazing at the idol.

Jesus then delivers the verbal coup de grace:

So give back to Caesar what is Caesar’s, and to God what is God’s [22:21b, NIV].

“Ouch!” They walk away dazed and amazed, at least for a little while. They recognize that they have supplied the answer to their own question: their allegiance is with the current “world,” where Rome dominates and where they hope to carve out just enough space for their own brand of piety. Alas, Jesus has other ideas.

Pulling this story into the 21st century for just a bit, what are we to make of Jesus’ statement on “giving back”? There are, of course, not just a few ways to interpret his powerful, and yet enigmatic, response. A cynical minister friend of mine has said, “It’s just like the Lectionary committee to give the preacher a text well-suited for an October stewardship campaign. Matthew’s text empowers the preacher to remind the flock that everything we have actually belongs to God. So, give back accordingly!” And yet, as inevitable as are death, taxes, and stewardship campaigns, I’m sure Jesus was up to something else with his statement to the Pharisees.

There are, after all, countless claims–in addition to taxes–on our lives. This very day, for example, I’ve attended three separate one-hour Zoom sessions, one that I had looked forward to–the online Bible Study I share each Wednesday with some former neighbors in Carolina Arbors–and two that were associated with my professional writing. I can’t complain about the latter two sessions; I agreed to both a priori.

Over the years, I’ve put in place quite a few ongoing financial obligations. Each lays a claim to some of my resources. How I allocate my money, my gifts, my time, and my attention reflect a truth taught by Jesus long ago, in the last week of his life, as he stood in the Temple and faced his opponents and accusers. All of me and all I have is imprinted with the very image of God [see Genesis 1:27]. And the same applies, of course, to you.

Would you like to hear a scary challenge? I’ll confess that as I communicate it to you, I’m not sure I’m up to it. I’m afraid of what I might discover. Here goes: What if we took our checkbooks, our calendars, our notebooks, our scratch pads, and/or our laptops, and we chronicled all our actions over the next two weeks. I’m not limiting the chronicle to financial concerns–the monthly housekeeping service that comes tomorrow, the restaurant charges, the new pair of shoes. I’m talking about everything.

I’d need to include the disagreeable email I’ll likely send to a colleague on Friday. I’d have to list the unkind word I shouted at the television about something that has happened in Raleigh or D.C. I’d jot a note about the glass of wine (or two) that I enjoy on Wednesday evenings, after I’ve posted this blog to you. To be sure, I’d get credit for my Bible study prep, but I’d also record the hour of Youtube I also enjoy. If I snap at Jane, oops, that’s on the list as well. You catch the drift; the list needs to be as complete as possible.

And then, at the end of that period, what if you and I took the necessary time to look back, to see where we had given back to God what God has given to us. How aligned would our lives be with God? How close is our creed to our deed?

I have this vision of a young man, who confronted his adversaries, and who told them that they could give back to Caesar all that was Caesar’s, but that they needed to give back to God all that was God’s. And to show them what he meant, a few days later, knowing that life itself is a gift from God, he voluntarily gave himself up for us. Death and taxes. He knew the Caesars of this world would always require their taxes, but he gave back his life to God, so that Death would suffer its utter defeat. That’s alignment! Thanks be to God, for this inexplicable gift.