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

A Feast for a Weary World

Isaiah 25:1-9

On this mountain the Lord of hosts will make for all peoples
   a feast of rich food, a feast of well-matured wines,
   of rich food filled with marrow, of well-matured wines strained clear.
And he will destroy on this mountain
   the shroud that is cast over all peoples,
   the sheet that is spread over all nations;
he will swallow up death for ever.
Then the Lord God will wipe away the tears from all faces,
   and the disgrace of his people he will take away from all the earth,
   for the Lord has spoken.
It will be said on that day,
   Lo, this is our God; we have waited for him, so that he might save us.
   This is the Lord for whom we have waited;
   let us be glad and rejoice in his salvation.

O Lord, you are my God;
   I will exalt you, I will praise your name;
for you have done wonderful things,
   plans formed of old, faithful and sure.
For you have made the city a heap,
   the fortified city a ruin;
the palace of aliens is a city no more,
   it will never be rebuilt.
Therefore strong peoples will glorify you;
   cities of ruthless nations will fear you.
For you have been a refuge to the poor,
   a refuge to the needy in their distress,
   a shelter from the rainstorm and a shade from the heat.
When the blast of the ruthless was like a winter rainstorm,
   the noise of aliens like heat in a dry place,
you subdued the heat with the shade of clouds;
   the song of the ruthless was stilled.


It was Friday, July 17, 2015. I was in Chicago, Little Village if you know the neighborhoods. Every Friday I went to the Marie Joseph’s house of hospitality and spent time with the men who lived there. All of them were immigrants awaiting court dates and paperwork, waiting for the right kind of visa or documentation. Some had lived in the house for a couple years, waiting; others just a few weeks.

When I walked into the house on that Friday, my mouth watered at the smells coming from the kitchen. This was a regular occurrence; Food was always being made and shared. I followed the delicious scent of spices and smoke coming from the kitchen that filled the house. Habbi, who is from Rwanda, was standing over a hot stove. I asked how I could help and the only thing he wanted me to do was test the food, which was fine by me. I started to realize, though, the vast amount of food Habbi was preparing; pounds of chicken, a giant pot of beef in a thick stew, multiple pots of rice, salad with vegetables from the garden out back. Habbi was a big man, but there was no way that was all for him!

So I asked him, “Habbi, what’s all this for?” With sweat gleaming from his brow he told me that today was the beginning of Eid, the celebration that occurs at the end of Ramadan, a month of fasting and prayer for Muslims. He continued, “many in the house went downtown to pray and they will be hungry when they return.” The food was almost complete when the men who were Muslim in the house came back, drenched in sweat, and in obvious need of water and food. To their surprise, Habbi, a Christian from Rwanda, had prepared a feast big enough for the whole house to join.

I sat at the table with 12 or so men from at least 10 countries: Every shade of brown; Christian, Muslim, Buddahist, and nothing. All sitting around the table, enjoying a feast I won’t forget.

Nothing provides comfort or gives us hope, even, like a feast. They help us celebrate major holidays, weddings, funerals and everything in between. What was the last feast you had? What was served? Who was there? What was the celebration? Yet there doesn’t feel like too much to celebrate these days. If you haven’t seen the images and heard the reports about what’s happening between Israel and Hamas, it’s harrowing.

The brutality is unforeseen in the region. Hamas using hostages of all ages as shields and bargaining chips, the indiscriminate killing, the lack of concern for civilian life is nothing short of evil. The blockade on water/electricity/food is inhumane. Israel will continue to be relentless in their response, as a ground invasion is prepped at the Gazan border. The pictures I can’t get out of my head are of parents, tears streaming down their faces, wondering where their children are and if their alive.

And because of this, all week I’ve struggled with the violence that abounds in this text. Isaiah praises God for laying waste to a city, destroying it till it’s a heap, never to be rebuilt. Undoubtedly many have tried or will try to make a connection between this text and the strife in the Holy Land. Some even will say this is good news.

Yet, context is always helpful. This passage is often called an apocalyptic text, meaning it deals with the end of time, because it doesn’t refer to a specific event or moment in time. And while there is no explicit reference to what city is laid ruined, the text is clear; it was one that was ruthless against those who were weak, poor, and vulnerable. That’s why God stepped in, to shelter those who needed refuge.

However, what follows the destruction is the vision of hope and promise of peace our weary world needs now more than ever. After God brings low and humbles the ruthless and proud; God also raises them up to the mountain top, where God has prepared a feast. “On this mountain” Isaiah says, “The Lord will make for all peoples a feast” full of the best food and drink imaginable.

But if it's a feast, what's the celebration? It’s that War, violence and death are no more! The veil of mourning that weighs down all people and nations, God has finally removed. And while guests open wide their mouths to eat the finest of food, God does the same, swallowing up death forever. And those same people with tears streaming down their face because they don’t know if their child, spouse, or loved one is dead or alive, God sits beside them at the table, wiping the tears until they fall no more.

It is this promised feast that gives us hope in such times of unthinkable violence. You might say “that sounds too good to be true! It’ll never happen.” And in our lifetime it may not.

But I know for certain that hospitality and fellowship between radically different people is possible; Habbi’s feast showed me that. We all know that true acts of love and forgiveness are possible through Jesus Christ; we’ve seen and experienced them firsthand. So I have to believe that somehow, the grace and love of God, made known to us in Jesus Christ, will one day bring together Israelis and Palestinians, Russians and Ukrainians, people of all nations at a feast where food and fellowship abound and tears and death are no more. It seems too good to be true, but it’s that how the grace and love of God work?

So until that day, what can we do over here, in the safety and privilege that we have. I can think of three things:

First, as Paul suggests, in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God: requesting an end to the violence, liberation for those held in bondage, and justice for all. In the words of Rabbi Sharon Brous, we must “dare to hold the humanity, the heartache, and the need for security of the Jewish people while also holding the humanity, the dignity, and the need for justice of the Palestinian pe

ople. For too long, these two have been set up as incompatible, but this is a false binary. The only liberation will be a shared liberation. The only justice is a justice for all.” So for all of that, we pray.

Secondly, give to Lutheran World Relief or Lutheran Immigration and Refugee Services. Aid is needed and the need will grow. People will flee from both Palestine and Israel and need a place to go. These organizations help in both those areas.

And lastly, protest all of this violence and war with a feast! Practice what it will be like at that great banquet on the mountain. Invite and sit with people who are different from you. Make lavish meals full of good food as signs of hospitality and abundance. Come to this feast that Christ has prepared for you in which we experience the fullness of his grace and receive a foretaste of the feast to come.

There are too few feasts and far too many wars. And had it not been for that feast in Chicago on a hot Friday afternoon, I would say the promised feast in Isaiah is too good to be true.

But there I experienced a portion of what it might be like when God makes that feast for all people and we sit together in peace with tears wiped away saying, “this is the Lord for whom we have waited; let us be glad and rejoice in his salvation.”

Amen.