Perhaps
you heard of the flap between the Senate candidates in Kentucky, my
native state.
One
candidate used an ancient, time-proven tactic—discredit your
opponent.
Force
him to say something he doesn't want to say.
He
plotted and figured he'd found a perfect question to force a damaging
answer.
Whatever
answer she gave, it would hurt her with one large group of voters or
another.
So
he asked his most damning question …
Did you vote for Obama for
president?
He
had every reason to assume she did—after all, she was a Democratic
Party politician.
If
she said Yes, she'd associate herself with Obama.
Something she'd evidently been trying hard to avoid.
Because many Kentuckians dislike him.
Something she'd evidently been trying hard to avoid.
Because many Kentuckians dislike him.
If
she happened to say No, many voters would think she was either
dishonest or disloyal.
If
she wouldn't answer, she'd seem defensive and a bit foolish.
His
question would damage her no matter how she answered.
She
chose option #3; she refused to answer.
The
best response she could come up with was about as lame as the question:
In
America we have a secret ballot and it's improper to ask people who
they voted for.
If
she had today's Gospel in mind she might have been inspired to a more
clever response.
Or
at least a more colorful response; something like:
Do
for the party what is owed to the party, and for Kentucky what is
owed to Kentucky.
Our
Gospel tells us, the Pharisees went off and plotted.
They
figured they'd found the perfect question to squelch Jesus'
popularity.
They'd
ask him, Should we pay taxes to Caesar or not?
If
Jesus answered, Don't pay, the Romans would see him as a
dangerous rabble rouser.
They'd
likely arrest him and maybe even put him to death.
Problem
solved.
If
he answered, Pay, the crowd would see him as supporting the
hated, oppressive Romans.
Either
way, Jesus loses—maybe just his popularity, maybe his life.
They
were bursting with anticipation when they asked their question.
Circling
in for the kill.
Which
trap would Jesus step into?
Well,
as we see, they got a big surprise.
He
didn't step into their trap at all.
He
outmaneuvered them.
He
didn't say Yes or No, or even refuse to answer.
He
gave a clever and wise answer that raised him even higher in the
crowd's esteem.
An
answer that the Romans would approve of as well.
But
first, he drew the crowd deeper into the lesson with a little
demonstration.
Asking
the Pharisees to show him the coin used for paying the tax.
The
Pharisees, by the way, should not have been carrying such a coin.
And
having it, showed their hypocrisy.
Jewish
law called for Jews to reject the Roman money and carry Jewish coins.
That's
one reason they had moneychangers.
To
trade-in any Roman coins they received and get Jewish coins.
So,
with the Pharisee's Roman coin in hand—a coin everyone was familiar
with—
Jesus
called everyone's attention to the image it bore.
It
was made in Caesar's image.
Ultimately,
it belonged to Caesar.
So,
give it back to Caesar.
I
can't read this Gospel without being impressed at the ease with which
Jesus escaped the trap.
But
his answer went well beyond clever escape.
He
moved the lesson on hypocrisy and taxes up a few notches to a
fundamental lesson on life.
(An
appropriate lesson for this Mission Sunday.
When
we're reminded not only to support the worldwide work of
missionaries.
But
also to attend to our own primary mission in life.)
He
said not only, Repay to Caesar what belongs to Caesar.
But
more importantly, Repay to God what belongs to God.
What
do we have that belongs to God?
Well—everything.
But
in particular, extending the coin demonstration Jesus gave,
What
do we have that's made in the image and likeness of God?
Of
course, it's us, our very selves.
That's
what belongs to God.
That's
what we should repay, give back, to God.
How
do we give ourselves back to God?
Certainly,
by the way we acknowledge Him, by the way we live.
My
mother-in-law has a little plaque on her wall with the old saying:
What
we are is God's gift to us.
What
we become is our gift to God.
St
Ignatius of Loyola gives more detailed guidance with a prayer that he
passed down to us.
Years
ago, when I first read it, I found it a bit shocking.
Maybe
I was taking it too literally.
Or
maybe I wasn't.
My
first impression was that the prayer was asking to have everything
taken away from us.
How
could I live without the most basic human abilities and necessities?
What
good would I be to God or myself or anyone?
But
then I realized that the prayer doesn't ask that these things be
taken away and lost.
It
simply asks that they be re-purposed.
Properly
purposed.
We
can pray with Ignatius:
Take
Lord and receive, all my liberty,
My
memory, my understanding, and my entire will.
All
that I have and call my own.
You
have given it all to me.
To
you, Lord, I return it.
Everything is yours.
Everything is yours.
Do
with it what you will.
Give
me only your love and your grace.
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