Matthew 22: 15-22
Matthew 22:15-22 [MSG]
15-17 That’s when the Pharisees plotted a way to trap him into saying something damaging. They sent their disciples, with a few of Herod’s followers mixed in, to ask, “Teacher, we know you have integrity, teach the way of God accurately, are indifferent to popular opinion, and don’t pander to your students. So tell us honestly: Is it right to pay taxes to Caesar or not?”
18-19 Jesus knew they were up to no good. He said, “Why are you playing these games with me? Why are you trying to trap me? Do you have a coin? Let me see it.” They handed him a silver piece.
20 “This engraving—who does it look like? And whose name is on it?”
21 They said, “Caesar.”
“Then give Caesar what is his, and give God what is his.”
22 The Pharisees were speechless. They went off shaking their heads.
Sermon Title: “Mine, mine, mine!”
Introduction:
Who here is a “Finding Nemo” fan? Then you will know this sound.
Play “mine, mine, mine, mine”
As funny as that is, it’s an unfortunate reality that we find this scenario so funny because it is also very familiar and very real. Not the gulls in the parking lot at Canadian Tire so much as the ones we work with, live with down the street, or next door, or maybe even in our own house. Dare I suggest, in the bathroom mirror? I don’t think I’m stretching our imaginations too far to suggest that we all have a problem with possession—my money, my toys, my clothes, and, for goodness sake, my food. I don’t share!
We have that bit of wisdom from Paul’s letter to Timothy, “For the love of money is a root of all the evils” (1 Tim 6:10). Notwithstanding, I think we are even more possessive of our human rights—the ones enshrined in constitutions and law, but also those we simply assimilate for ourselves. “I have the right to be myself,” we assert. To make my own decisions and, as a consequence, my own mistakes.
As we age, time seems to erode what I thought was mine. A lot of what I thought was mine is gone, taken away, deteriorated or simply vanished. And what is left of what is mine seems much less valuable and important than it did just a year ago.
In our Gospel reading this morning, Jesus tells his listeners, “Give Caesar what is his, and give God what is his” (Matt 22:21, MSG), which may leave you wondering about the question we’re addressing this morning. What, exactly, is
play “mine, mine, mine, mine”
Sermon:
Matthew’s story begins, “That’s when the Pharisees plotted a way to trap him into saying something damaging.” Well, I think we’d all agree that this phraseology tells us we’ve arrived in the middle of the movie. The author has been building up to this moment, drawing together all the bits and pieces of the mystery, and now it's time for the bad guys to unleash their nefarious plan. And so what do we do? Well, as good churchgoers who’ve been trained to read the Bible in isolated snippets, we ignore everything Matthew has crafted into the plot leading up to this moment and plough on ahead, telling ourselves it will all come to light eventually. Something we wouldn’t dream of doing with that favourite Grisham or Christie novel we just picked up to read. We know intuitively, in every other medium except the Bible, that we need to know what the “that” is before we can expect to understand the story that follows.
And so it is here. If we take this morning’s Gospel reading as it is, we can have a pretty invigorating discussion about paying taxes, loyalty to God or the government, deciding who has authority, or Peter’s claim in Acts 5:29, “we should obey God rather than men.” And these are the topics most commentators focus on, but I don’t think this is the point Matthew was trying to make. There are other places, like Matthew 17, where Jesus addresses taxes more directly and clearly. Beginning with the Sermon on the Mount onward, Matthew fills the pages with Jesus’ teachings, which Mark forgets to do, and with stories of healing, miracles, instruction, and interaction with the 12 disciples.
And then Jesus sets his face toward Jerusalem, and things begin to change. He tells his disciples what is going to happen to him, and most, except the 12, drop away. He raises Lazarus from the dead in Bethany and, as a result, gathers a whole new crowd of Messiah seekers to throng his triumphal entry into Jerusalem. This is where our present chapter begins, and everything from that point is what is meant by Matthew’s “That’s when…
Jesus has raised Lazarus from the dead, entered Jerusalem, and cleared the temple of the moneylenders. Matthew is following Mark pretty faithfully and describing interactions between Jesus and priests and scribes in Jerusalem. Yes, he tells many parables, but they are not like earlier teaching parables for the crowds; they are attacks on the integrity and authority of the priests, scribes, and Pharisees.
So why would we suddenly read this story and the subsequent interaction with the Sadducees as an instructive “saying of Jesus” that tells us how we should act in our lives? I don’t understand.
Unless, of course, what we’ve been doing is exactly what I instruct you over and over again not to do, that being, reading the passage as an isolated proverb and not as part of the amazingly well-crafted document that Matthew has produced for us. The interaction Matthew documents between the Pharisees and Jesus is followed, neck and neck, by that with the Sadducees. Matthew isn’t interested here in teaching you about how to pay your taxes or about what things will be like in the afterlife. In fact, Jesus really doesn’t even answer their question.
Telling us to give Caesar what is Ceasar’s and God what is God’s is simply begging the question. The door is flung wide open for fruitless discussion to distract from anything of purposeful substance. So what is Matthew accomplishing here? It’s a pivot in his argument, beginning with Jesus’ entry into Jerusalem.
From the outset, Jesus was questioning what the Jewish leaders put their faith and trust in. They believed in Jerusalem, the city of David, in the Temple and the sacrifices, and in Torah and the traditions of the elders. The parables Matthew records Jesus telling turn these ideas upside down. And the attack with which they respond shows that Jesus is correct and they truly don’t understand. All the Pharisees fathom is the vexing question of whether one should pay tribute to Caesar.
Which is Matthew’s very point, leaving the Pharisees, and us, shaking our heads and wondering what Jesus’ answer really means. These aren’t passages that raise specific mechanical questions about taxes, marriage rules or even the division of human versus divine authority. Jesus is pointing out where the Jewish leaders have missed the mark in understanding who God is and what his kingdom is all about. In the section following that we didn’t read, Jesus says to the Sadducees specifically, “You are in error because you do not know the Scriptures or the power of God.”
The entire scenario Matthew presents, from the entrance into Jerusalem to the crucifixion, is about the question, “What is God’s kingdom?” And the answer to that question is all about possession. That, after all, is what a kingdom is about. A domain ruled, owned, by a king. Matthew wants us to consider not what is God’s and what is Ceasar’s, but what is God’s and what is mine.
We are very blithe when, as Christians, we talk about the sovereignty of God. Without a doubt, we honour and glorify him as the Creator of all things. The universe, the sun, moon, and stars, the earth and all plants, fowl, fish, and animals. Yes, and even you and me. And I don’t know about you, but when I make something, unless I sell it, it belongs to me. It glorifies me because I can say, “I made that!”
Matthew knows himself, and he knows his audience, and he knows you and me; so much so that he dedicates a quarter of his gospel to making this clear. The Kingdom of God is God’s possession; it is God’s kingdom, and it is here now, at hand. So it’s Ok to give a silver coin tax to Caesar, even if it belongs to God, because so does Caesar, and so does the one being taxed.
I believe we would find it very difficult to think of any part of our lives that isn’t qualified with a “my” possessive determiner. It’s not a possessive pronoun like “mine” or “yours”; it’s called a possessive determiner. I would gamble that you can’t find anything that you don’t qualify with a possessive determiner. We have a compulsion to know what is ours, over against what others think is theirs. Which, in a very practical sense, is a good and useful understanding.
What Jesus recognized in the Pharisees and Sadducees, which I would hope he does not see in us, but I am moved to disparage, is that “mine” and “yours” were as far as their faith in the Torah of Moses had carried them. If there is nothing more, then it was very important to know if one should give tribute to Caesar or not. Because on the one hand you would insult the Emperor and incur the wrath of the Empire, and on the other blaspheme God, incurring his wrath. However, if the creator of all is also the king of all, then I am free to give to Caesar what he demands. Fealty to Caesar is also to God, for he made Caesar and Caesar’s authority, and in truth, his very life, is God’s.
And I know you’ll stop me short here and point out that there are lots of people and organizations with authority whom we should not obey without question, and I wholeheartedly agree. As we already noted, Peter boldly pointed out that “we should obey God rather than men.” But it changes everything when we humbly accept that everything, including ourselves, is God’s. When we stop thinking in terms of “mine” and start living the truth that all things are created by and belong to God, we see everything differently.
When I deliberate how to manage, use, and dispose of the things in my purview, it shifts my entire outlook when I see them as God’s possessions, even my time, talents, and relationships. And that where they are going is not some foreign use. They are returning to a place still in God’s kingdom. He is still sovereign over these resources even if I am not administering them. That’s a job a little above my pay grade as a servant of Jesus Christ. When “mine” and “theirs” are removed from my understanding, and I see everything as God’s to do with as he wishes, I am both freed from greed and stress, and emboldened to share what God has given me.
Suddenly, Jesus’ teaching not to be consumed by what I should eat or wear (Matthew 6:25, Luke 12:22), because my Father knows what I need before I ask, and the Lord’s Prayer that says, “give us this day our daily bread” (Matthew 6:11, Luke 11:3) make perfect sense. No matter in whose hands the answer to my needs exists, they are, in fact, God’s, and he will provide them to whom he wills according to his love and compassion.
A bit of a stretch of faith, I know, but that is the point. It’s the point the Pharisees were missing. A point I hope you will embrace. In Jesus’ temporal world, there was nothing and no one greater than Caesar. Everything in the known world of the massive Roman Empire was at his beck and call. One’s life was Caesar’s to give or take at his whim. Jesus instructs us to give to Caesar what is Caesar’s, and at first glance you may say, “Well, that’s everything.” Until you remember that everything you’re giving is not yours, and even the one you’re giving it to is God’s as well.
I hope that you may feel less burdened and more cheerful as you drive home today in God’s car, protected by the insurance God paid for. Or if you’re not driving, you’re thankful for the chauffeur God has provided you with. Enjoy some of God’s food for lunch and thank him for preparing it for you, whether by another’s hands or your own. We rightly thank God for the sunshine and gentle rains, but we should also remember that the coins in our pocket, whether they bear the Queen’s image or the King’s, are God’s to provide and dispose of as he chooses, even if that means paying taxes to Caesar.
Please don’t go away speechless and shaking your heads. We just have to get … play “mine, mine, mine, mine!” … out of our heads and hearts.
Amen