Proper 24A
October 18, 2020
1 Thessalonians. Jesus, who rescues us from the wrath that is coming.
Matthew:15-22. Whose head is this, and whose title? i.e., whose image is this and whose inscription?
O God of mercy, may we have the wisdom, the strength, and the courage to seek always and everywhere after truth – come when it may and cost what it will.
The other day I heard a lecture by Episcopal priest Reed Carlson, Assistant Professor of Biblical Studies at United Lutheran Seminary, that made me want to go back to the end of last week’s Gospel lesson and last week’s sermon. You might remember that I posited that the story of the king that binds the hands and feet of one who is not properly dressed is not a story about how God works, but how human kings work. The verse at the end of the Gospel portion says, “For many are called but few are chosen,” or more literally, many are called but few are called out. It has always seemed like a non-sequitur to me, but I don’t believe non-sequiturs actually exist in Biblical literature. The apparent disconnect is always on our end, not the narrative’s end.
Reed Carlson was lecturing on chosenness or election of people or peoples in the First Testament. He named three characteristics of chosenness in the Bible: 1) chosenness is arbitrary, that is, not by primacy of birth order or merit or tribe. In fact many of those who are chosen by the Holy One had behaved and continued to behave in terrible ways (although chosenness is clearly not a license to sin). 2) Chosenness comes with special obligations to deliver the warnings and the promises of the Holy One, and the work is often hard and dangerous. And 3) chosenness comes with suffering as a consequence of the hard and dangerous work of proclaiming and enacting the realm of God. As Carlson quipped, if you are chosen, “you are ordered to give people heaven even if they give you hell.” Chosenness is certainly an honor, but it’s not so much fun. It occurs to me to tell you that, Biblically speaking, being chosen is not the same as being saved. It’s the chosen ones who are called out, elected, to bring salvation to all of the nations. Salvation – from the same root as salve – has to do with healing, with deliverance from harm or ruin.
This line, “many are called but few are chosen (or elected, or called out)” sits between the story of the human king throwing an inadequately clothed wedding guest into the burning trash heap, and some Pharisees joining with some Herodians to entangle Jesus in his own words in hopes of getting Jesus arrested. What would make them so mad, that Jesus’ own religious colleagues would cozy up to the Herodians, supporters of a king who was known to operate like a mafia boss, a brutal dictator, a mad tyrant? That’s a live question for us right now in our time, isn’t it? It’s worth our best thinking and action to figure out how to deliver heaven to those who are dishing up hell.
If you’d been listening to a recitation of the whole Gospel of Matthew, this statement, “many are called but few are chosen,” might remind you of what Jesus said earlier, when he was about to commission twelve disciples, giving them authority over polluted spirits, to cast them out, and to cure every disease and every sickness. Since you haven’t just heard it, I’ll tell you. Jesus said, “The harvest is plentiful, but the laborers are few.” In a dramatic turn, Jesus had demonstrated that the disciples were the ones they’d been asking for, waiting for, praying for the Holy One to send. Jesus sent them out to care for and cure people who were sick and suffering. They started with the peoples of Israel and by the end of Matthew’s Gospel, Jesus was sending them to all the nations, just like the prophet Isaiah promised. But back to what might make Jesus’ colleagues mad enough to want to permanently remove him from the scene. I think Jesus was saying, “your chosenness comes with an obligation to deliver heaven; your chosenness will cause you to suffer on behalf of the people.” What Jesus doesn’t say, but everyone understands, is his critique that some people were not living up to their covenant promises.
The religious and community leaders in today’s Gospel reading were people who had a lot going on. They were the middle managers in the near-east ancient scheme of things — perpetually between a rock and a hard place – balancing between what Rome required, what their religion required, and the realities of everyday life. They were responsible for keeping order and keeping faith. We know from ancient writings that they tended to view the dominion of Rome as a necessary evil – not ideal, but certainly better than anarchy or annihilation – better than takeover by another foreign power. Rome provided protection and stability. Rome allowed them to work and worship. Rome permitted the temple to function (until Rome didn’t).
On the other hand, the burden of the cost of keeping up the empire was extremely oppressive on the general population of the occupied territory. Caesar claimed divinity. Some argued that the image of Caesar’s head on a coin was an idol and faithful Jews couldn’t pay homage to any god except the God of Israel. They were the extreme voices, but they roused popular sympathies among those for whom the tax burden was most oppressive.
Meanwhile, Jesus had stirred up popular support. He’d been in Jerusalem for some time now and the tension between Jesus and those whose responsibility it was to keep the peace had been steadily increasing. But the religious authorities didn’t want a scene – what they really wanted was for Jesus to entangle himself in his own words. They start with what sounds like flattery – but it’s not hard to see through. They ask Jesus what he thinks – “Is it lawful to pay taxes to Caesar or not?” If Jesus says no, they can have him arrested for treason. If he says yes, maybe he’s not that much of a threat after all.
Matthew tells us that Jesus was aware of their malice. The Greek word poneria also gets translated as evil, which means turned away from God. Jesus was aware that they had turned away from God. It wasn’t just that he saw that they were out to get him – he saw through their behavior to their pain. Jesus was aware that they had turned away from God and that their malice was a symptom of their pain. They had lost sight – they had forgotten just who and whose they were.
Jesus asked them to show him the coin used for the tax in question. They brought him a denarius – the coin used for paying tribute. “Whose likeness and whose inscription is this?” he asked. This is kind of a dumb question – everyone knows that the head and the title are Caesar’s. They respond and he, perhaps shrugging, says basically – “If it belongs to Caesar – give it back to him.” And that would have been enough of an answer if Jesus were trying to avoid arrest. That would have been enough if Jesus were making the point that one can be faithful and still pay tribute to a civil authority. But it was not enough because that’s not what Jesus is about. He added this: “and give to God the things that are God’s.” Jesus, incarnation of the God who longs for right-relationship with each one of us, always goes the way of God’s justice and mercy and compassion. His question about the image and the inscription is worded to remind his hearers of the scripture that they know by heart. We know it by heart too.
His answer is a reminder about whose image is on the questioners – and whose inscription. Whose image is on us — and whose inscription? The Book of Genesis teaches that we are made in God’s image – every single one of us. God’s inscription is imprinted on us. The Mishnah, (the ancient collection of ethical teachings for Jews) says, that “Rabbi Eleazar of Bartota says: ‘Give [God] what is [God’s] for you and yours are [God’s]” If the denarius is the currency in Caesar’s economy, we are the currency in God’s economy. Jesus was saying then and is still telling us now that in God’s economy, we are valuable. Whether we are shiny and new or we are tarnished, nicked, bent, or corroded beyond recognition – we owe ourselves to God because we belong to God. We belong to God because we exist – because God made us and marked us. God loves us beyond measure.
Jesus’ answer is a reminder that God is calling us to make no peace with oppression, to remember that all people are valuable to God, and to respond to God’s call with big and small acts of justice and mercy and compassion – in every moment of our lives out of our gratefulness – our thankfulness – our delight at knowing that God needs us. I believe that our ability to respond, to take response-ability delights the Author of our salvation. The Holy One, rejoices when we remember just who and whose we are – and when we remember just who and whose every child of God is.