|
First
Reading
|
Psalm |
Epistle |
Gospel |
| Isaiah 45:1-7 |
Psalm 96: 1–9 |
Thessalonians 1:1–10 |
Matthew
22:15–22
|
It was a tough time to be a member of one of the remaining tribes of Israel. More than a century and a half before, the Assyrians had swept down and conquered northern Israel, scattering to the winds of oblivion, ten of Israel’s original twelve tribes. Southern Israel around Jerusalem had continued, but almost 50 years ago the Babylonians had marched into the land, and the remnant of Israel was taken into exile to Babylon. Fortunately for them, they were allowed to live in an enclosed enclave and within limits were able to preserve their customs, as they mourned for their old land.
International news of that day was sporadically carried by whispers and rumors, but there was definitely something a foot. A new empire was rising, and gathering unstoppable power. The word began to filter in of a brilliant military leader who apparently had an incredibly enlightened policy compared with other conquerors. He took an active interest in promoting the prosperity of subject peoples. Instead of grinding captive peoples down in the dirt, he believed that by encouraging economic prosperity and reasonable well being, the larger empire, in turn, would be assured more tax money and remain prosperous also. So as he made his way, capturing the kingdoms of ruthless tyrants, he restored limited freedom to former subjects, let them rebuild social and economic institutions, and replaced slave drivers with diplomats. In 550, Media and Persia were integrated into one kingdom. Six years later came Lydia, and then in 539, Cyrus would take Babylon.
A prophet we call Second Isaiah, was guided by the hope of what he had heard, when he predicted the eventual return of the exiles to Jerusalem and the rebuilding of the temple. This prophet was a radical person of vision who had cut himself free from the limitations of the culture of exile.
Isaiah perceived that Israel was at a critical turning point and would be in danger of slipping back, trying to re-create a nostalgic past rather than perceiving what new things God might be calling forth. So Isaiah proclaimed what had to be first seen as a shocking and outrageously presumptuous idea. Cyrus, a pagan ruler, someone who did not even know God’s proper name, was now God’s chosen, God’s anointed instrument.
Israel was directed to use this new opportunity to rebuild Jerusalem in the context of remembering its constituted purpose, its mission given to it long ago. Israel was formed to be a light to all nations, an example by which God’s grace would be made known throughout the world. In Cyrus, Isaiah places Israel’s role back in the center of world history. Cyrus delivers more than an edict allowing Israel to return home. Cyrus delivers God’s invitation to return home and once again be an active force in the restoration of the whole human enterprise.
The question posed to Jesus about the lawfulness, according to the Torah, of paying the Roman tax was, of course, a trap. If Jesus indicated it was against the Torah to pay the tax, some of his opponents would accuse him of exciting sedition against the authorities and urge the Romans to bring Jesus up on charges. If Jesus approved of the tax, it would alienate those who despised the tax and the foreign oppressors to whom it was paid. Jesus avoided the trap, but no minds were changed.
Later Christians found the encounter valuable because Jesus had affirmed for all followers to come, not to be trapped by one’s surrounding culture or worldly powers of the moment. “Render to God what is God’s” makes it clear that people of faith belong to God and are not owned nor do they have a future that is mortgaged by any other power on earth.
I suspect that is why the words about Cyrus, attributed to a prophet known only as second Isaiah, is paired with the story of Jesus and the tax. We are far removed from the exile of Israel in Babylon and from the Roman occupation of first century Palestine. Nonetheless, our culture does try to possess, to occupy the whole of us. Our culture wants us to believe that it owns us and we are limited in vision by the time in which we live. Not so, says the witness of people of faith. Not so! That is why historical memory is so important. We are not simply people of the present; we are people of the past and the future. God gives us a mission to be a light to our generation and generations to come. God gives us a mission to speak to our time and culture, without being captured or imprisoned by our culture. That is why we can hear things, larger society cannot hear, see things, larger society refuses to see, and why we can recognize ourselves related as one family inhabiting a common home on this earth, while others ridicule such notions, and why we can hope for peace and dream for justice while others despair and mock such things as delusions.
It’s awfully outrageous and presumptuous to place ourselves properly in world history. Yet people of faith are always told that God needs us. God needs us here at St. John’s to be a strong witness to things now only barely perceived. God needs us to cast light on possibilities rather than being cowed by fear. God needs us in our community today, as leaven in a loaf, as the salt of the world. There is no better time to be a witness to the Gospel and God’s faith in the great potential and future of the human enterprise than today!
And I offer this to you in the name of the Living God, Amen.
