Giving

Enough and We Know It

Matthew 22:15-22

Then the Pharisees went and plotted to entrap Jesus in what he said. So they sent their disciples, along with the Herodians, saying, “Teacher, we know that you are sincere, and that you teach the way of God in accordance with truth, and that you show deference to no one, because you do not regard people with partiality. Tell us, then, what you think. Is it lawful to pay taxes to the emperor, or not?”

Jesus, aware of their malice, said to them, “Why do you put me to the test, you hypocrites? Show me the coin used for the tax.” So they brought him a denarius. He said to them, “Who’s head is this? And who’s title?” They answered him, “The emperor’s.” And he said to them, “Give, therefore, to the emperor the things that are the emperor’s, and give to God, the things that are God’s.” When they heard this, they were amazed, and they left him and went away.


I get that the Pharisees and the Herodians were out to “entrap” Jesus. It happens all the time in the Gospels, you may know. Religious leaders and others were always trying to trick Jesus and get him into trouble. They asked him hard questions about marriage and divorce and about which commandment was the greatest. They present him with seemingly impossible situations, like that woman they wanted to stone to death after catching her in adultery. They watch him spend time with tax collectors, sinners, the unclean, the outcasts and outsiders of all kinds, just waiting to pounce and prove him to be the fake and the fraud and the false prophet they believed him to be.

But what he really shows along the way is that all of their questions, tricks and traps, reveal as much about them as they do about Jesus. What I mean is, they already knew what they wanted to hear – and they always thought they knew what Jesus would say or do. They didn’t expect there to actually be a “correct” answer. In fact they knew there wasn’t a single correct answer Jesus could give, which is why they asked their questions or posed their predicaments, like they did, in the first place.

For the Pharisees, for example, the right answer this morning is, “don’t pay the emperor’s tax.” Faithful Jews should be beholden to God’s higher authority, not that of any government. They weren’t really supposed to even handle graven images like the coin they brought to Jesus, let alone use them for the work of the world’s empire in Rome. That’s the answer the Pharisees wanted to hear.

On the other hand, for the Herodians – who were beholden to the politics and politicians of that same Roman empire – the right answer this morning is, “you absolutely should pay your taxes.” As subjects to the powers that be, it is right and lawful to obey and to pay, as the Emperor demands.

So, in the minds of those who confronted Jesus today – according to their plans – in keeping with their respective world views – Jesus was, to put it theologically … screwed. If his answer favored the Pharisees, then the Herodians would be upset. If his answer favored the Herodians, then the Pharisees would have a bone to pick. And they were all there for it … to catch Jesus in a pickle, get him into trouble, add one more strike to use against him when the time came.

And, of course, in this instance, it’s all about money. And, of course, both sides of the fence want more of it for themselves. And, of course, Jesus amazes them with his response because he gives them an answer neither side expected or hoped for or believed could be true. Jesus tells them to do both.

“Give to the emperor the things that are the emperor’s and give to God the things that are God’s.” And I think the lesson in that response is pretty simple – and something neither side, and too many of us, too much of the time, want to believe: that there’s enough to go around. That there’s enough to do both. That there’s plenty, and we all know it.

It reminds me of a question I’ve been asked a million times – and that I’ve wondered about myself, along the way. The question goes something like this: “When I decide about my offering … when I do the math about my tithe to the church … do I make that decision based on the “net” or the “gross” of my income?” My snarky reply is to say something like, “If your giving is an expression of gratitude – as it is intended to be – for the grace of God and for the forgiveness of your sins – are you grateful and hopeful that God forgives the “gross” of your sins, or just the “net?”

A more faithful and kind and thoughtful – less snarky – response, though, is to say something like Jesus implies … that there’s enough to be more generous than we are inclined, and we all know it, so give accordingly.

There’s an old joke about Lutherans … that the reason we don’t go down to the river to be baptized … the reason we merely sprinkle each other or cross our foreheads with water, rather than fully immerse one another as part of the sacrament … is because we don’t want to get our wallets wet. In other words, the joke is that we want all the blessing and benefits and abundance of God’s grace in our life, we just don’t want to have to respond to that with our money.

But again, Jesus would say, like he reminds us this morning, that there’s enough, and we know it.

There’s another story about the pastor who addressed his congregation during their latest financial stewardship campaign, telling them about all they were trying to accomplish with their ministry. The pastor told his people, “the good news is that, as a congregation, we have all the money – and more – that we need to do what God is calling us to do through our life together. The bad news is, that money is all still folded up in your wallets, and stuffed in your purses, and stored away in your checking and savings accounts.”

Again, as Jesus would say, and as Jesus showed, there is enough. There’s plenty if we’re faithful and honest and generous in the way God has already been so generous with us.

What Jesus is really calling us to today – and every day – is to be clear about where, in whom, and toward what we put our allegiance. And it’s about more than taxes to the powers that be, for sure. We are beholden to the IRS in more ways than some of us wish, but we are to obey the law, and we are to pray and work and vote in ways that move our government to deal with our tax dollars in God-pleasing ways – which can be a sad, frustrating, laughable proposition a lot of the time, as we know.

Which is why I happen to think it’s a gift to have somewhere else to give our money if and when our tax money doesn’t make God smile.

See, I hope you see the money you give to God through the ministry we share in this place as a blessing for the world around us that “the empire” can’t or will not muster. I’m talking about supporting organizations like Zoey’s Place – our Mission Sunday for the month, just as one example – that actually works alongside government organizations to do good work in the world…

… and, I mean building houses in Haiti, a place whose government is so broken and impoverished it can’t do the kind of work Zanmi Fondwa does with our help;

… and, I mean supporting organizations like Lutheran Immigration and Refugee Services, Lutheran World Relief, and Lutheran Disaster Response, organizations where our offerings do the work of God in ways our tax dollars just don’t;

… and, I mean feeding people who are hungry by way of our food pantry;

… and, I mean, generally creating a safe, welcoming, loving place of grace and good news and generosity and abundance for all people in a world that is full of so much to the contrary;

… and I mean doing our best as a family of faith to educate, encourage and inspire one another about what God’s kingdom can look like when we get it right in that regard.

We are called to give in ways that bless the world – even when, maybe especially when, the world doesn’t return the favor. We are called to give because we can, not because we have to. And we are called to do that through the Church – and in other ways and to other places, too – with the same kind of sacrifice and joy with which God has first given to us. And the truth, good news and holy challenge from Jesus today is that we have been blessed with enough abundance to do all of this, by God’s gracious generosity and in Jesus’ name.

Amen

Reckless Generosity

John 12:1-8 (NRSV)

Six days before the Passover Jesus came to Bethany, the home of Lazarus, whom he had raised from the dead. There they gave a dinner for him. Martha served, and Lazarus was one of those at the table with him. Mary took a pound of costly perfume made of pure nard, anointed Jesus’ feet, and wiped them with her hair. The house was filled with the fragrance of the perfume. But Judas Iscariot, one of his disciples (the one who was about to betray him), said, “Why was this perfume not sold for three hundred denarii and the money given to the poor?” (He said this not because he cared about the poor, but because he was a thief; he kept the common purse and used to steal what was put into it.) Jesus said, “Leave her alone. She bought it so that she might keep it for the day of my burial. You always have the poor with you, but you do not always have me.”


I wonder when the last time was you and I did something extravagant and wasteful – without apology, without guilt, without justifying it to our neighbors, our spouse, our kids, our Pastor, our selves. Maybe it was a vacation we needed and that we felt like we had earned… Maybe it was a gift for someone we love… Maybe it was spending more than seemed wise or responsible on something we wanted, rather than on something that was a real need – a new pair of shoes, a new car, a really great meal on date-night, perhaps.

We’ve all been there and done it, I suspect. And there’s nothing wrong with it. But, unless you’re lucky enough to live without a budget – or broken enough to live without a conscience, I guess – wasting money… spending extravagantly… using more than our fair share isn’t always easy; it doesn’t come without second thoughts; it doesn’t happen without regrets, on occasion, either.

And when Mary pours all of that perfume – a year’s salary worth of nard, some have said – onto the feet of Jesus, and then wipes them with her hair – Judas plays on all of that – those second thoughts, that good, old-fashioned guilt, and on those kinds of regrets when he asks – with all of us ulterior motives – “Why wasn’t this perfume sold for money that could be given to the poor?” “How can you be so wasteful?” “Isn’t there something better and more faithful you could have done with that abundance?”

And Jesus, knowing about Judas’ evil ways and selfish, ulterior motives, shuts him up and tells him to forget it: “Leave her alone. She bought [the perfume] so that she might keep it for the day of my burial. You will always have the poor with you, but you will not always have me.”

“You will always have the poor with you, but you do not always have me.”

Jesus knew something Mary had apparently picked up on, too: that his crucifixion wasn’t far off. That the time for his death was near. Mary wasn’t thinking about the budget. She was thinking about his burial. And she wanted to worship and honor and love him with this humble act of reverence and service.

“You will always have the poor with you,” Jesus says, “but you do not always have me.”

Now, I’m used to reading this bit from John’s Gospel and thinking that Jesus is simply praising Mary for the way she honors him with the sacrificial anointing of all that expensive perfume. Like Jesus is saying, “forget about the poor for a minute, they’re not going anywhere. I, on the other hand, am about to hit Jerusalem – where I’ll be crucified, killed and buried. I’ll take this anointing, this love, this honor, this worship, while I can get it. And maybe the rest of you will finally realize who I am and what I’m about to do, which Mary obviously understands.”

In other words … the poor could wait. This was Jesus’ last hurrah.

Well, something about that just didn’t sit well with me, this time around, and I may be taking a theological leap here – conflating two Gospel stories like I’m about to do.

But have you ever read – or do you remember – that parable Jesus tells in Matthew 25? The one where Jesus says, “…for I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me, I was naked and you gave me clothing, I was sick and you took care of me, I was in prison and you visited me?” And then he says, “…whenever you did – or did not – do these things to one of the least of these … you did – or did not – do these things to me.” Do you remember that?

And today he says, “You will always have the poor with you. But you do not always have me.”

“Whenever you did it to one of the least of these [fed the hungry, welcomed the stranger, clothed the naked, cared for the sick, visited the prisoner], you did it for me.”

What if, in receiving Mary’s anointing over dinner that night, Jesus isn’t drawing a distinction between himself and the poor, but he’s identifying with them because of it? What if Jesus is the poor we have with us and around us, even now? What if Jesus receives Mary’s faithful, loving, generous gift that night at dinner in humble, hopeful solidarity – as one with – the poor and the suffering?

“You will always have the poor with you. But you will not always have me.”

And what if we sacrificed – like Mary must have – to give more of our best… more of our abundance… more extravagantly… more recklessly to the people around us who need it most, because we recognize them as living and suffering and struggling in humble, hopeful solidarity with Jesus?

I think it could change the world.

I had a conversation with Linda Sevier and Mary Hubert about our Mission Sunday in May where we’ll collect money and bras – yes, bras, people! – for a ministry connected with the Women of the ELCA. This ministry collects and sends used bras – yes, used bras, people! – to women who are poor in other parts of the world with the goal of giving them opportunities in the second-hand clothing industry, and to save them from human trafficking. It sounds like a beautiful, worthwhile thing and I’m sure it is.

But used bras? A gently-worn shirt, sure. A pair of shoes you’ve out-grown, fine. But a used bra? What kind of a gift is that, really? What sort of sacrifice does that represent? Besides the fact that none of us wants me to handle your old bras, no matter how “gently used” they might be – we can do better … and these women – whoever they are – deserve better. So we will be collecting money and NEW bras, only, thank you very much. I hope you’ll play along when the time comes.

And the same goes for our “Groceries of Grace” food pantry. Let’s not give our leftovers – the last of what we can dust off from the back of the closet, for the “least of these.” I’d bet 300 denarii Martha wasn’t serving stale bread or expired figs or leftover fish that night when Jesus showed up for dinner. So let’s not pretend hungry people should take what they can get and be happy – even if humiliated – to receive our leftovers. Let’s honor them, like we would honor Jesus, if he showed up for help one day soon.

What if, in giving generously to the poor, we are giving generously to Jesus, himself? What if, when we sacrifice for the sake of another, we’re sacrificing for the sake of our God? What if we are honoring God when we honor the least among us? What if it’s not a waste at all when we give generously, abundantly, without fear, with nothing but love for those who are hungry or hurting or dying or despairing – in our midst and around the world?

And what if we gave that way to the Church – which is the body of Christ, after all – and which is doing the work of Christ, for the sake of the world? 

I recently read that – in order to make up for recent cuts in the new federal budget that would otherwise help poor and hungry people – every religious organization in the United States – something like 350,000 churches, mosques, and synagogues – would have to raise an extra $400,000 a year for 10 years. An extra $400,000 a year for 10 years to make up for federal budget cuts that would otherwise do that, just in our country. That’s a lot of nard. And I’m sadly realistic about the odds of that happening.

But what if we gave our offering to the church’s work in the world – to Cross of Grace, to places like Love, Inc. which we’ll hear about in a moment, to ministries like Bread for the World which you heard about if you were here during the Sunday school hour this morning – what if we gave to the poor with the same extravagant generosity that Mary showed – like it mattered; like it was first in our hearts; like it was of utmost priority and importance and devotion; like we were grateful for the opportunity and like LIFE depended on it – the new life promised to us all – rich and poor, faithful or not, saint and sinner, and everyone in between.

What if we gave like we were giving to Jesus himself? I think it could change the world – which has been God’s plan, in Jesus Christ, all along.

Amen