A few months ago, when I was looking ahead in the lectionary, I knew I wanted to preach on today’s Gospel. I did not know what would be happening in the world. I did not know that a bomb would have exploded in the courtyard of a hospital in Gaza, a hospital which is run by the Episcopal Church in Jerusalem, where a seminary classmate of mine is the archbishop. I did not know that I would be hearing from Jewish colleagues and friends from across the country about the fear they feel. For some of them, that fear is more than theoretical. There are rabbis in this country who saw members and former members of their congregations killed or kidnapped in a terrorist attack. I did not know that our social media landscape would be divided on exactly the question: who is at fault, who is at blame. Palestinians and Israelis, Muslim and Jewish and Christian alike all need our prayers.
We are living through difficult days, full of rage, terror, violence and uncertainty. That last word may in some sense be the root of the difficulty. We crave certainty. Kai Ryssdal tells me most every evening that the market thrives on certainty. Many faith traditions sell certainty as well. There are preachers out there who preach doctrines and positions about which, they say to the congregation, you can be certain. This morning, I am only certain about a handful of things: First, God is Love and too much of religion tries to hide that fact. Second: green chile is superior to red. Third, and perhaps more to the point: I am certain that certainty is getting us into a great deal of trouble.
In our time, too many people are too certain about too much. We are divided from one another, we are convinced that our way is right and yours is heresy. Because of our certainties, we are unable to hear one another, unable to work together. It has been said “the opposite of faith isn’t doubt, it is certainty.” If you are certain about something, you can’t have faith. Faith requires a measure doubt. Faith requires humility. Faith requires being open to the possibility you might be wrong, at least partially. We could do with more faith and less certainty.
Jesus didn’t traffic much in certainties
Today Matthew tells us about a group of religious leaders who seek to trap Jesus. First they try to flatter him. We might imagine Jesus didn’t have much patience for flattery. Then these religious leaders ask a question designed to get Jesus in trouble.
They ask about taxes. Jesus lived in a time of taxation without representation. Palestine was subject to Roman taxes. Matthew, the disciple for which this Gospel is named, was a tax collector. Having Matthew as a disciple was likely a liability for Jesus. Tax collectors were viewed as traitors among their own people. Through taxes the people were expected to finance their own oppression. This wasn’t an easy question put to Jesus.
If Jesus says, “no, don’t pay taxes to the emperor,” he would be a hero to the people, but he could be arrested for sedition. On the other hand, if Jesus says, “it is lawful to pay your taxes,” well then they could question his adherence to the Torah, to his people. Either answer Jesus gives, he loses.
Which is what makes Jesus response masterful. Jesus doesn’t react with a prepared quote. Jesus doesn’t cite MSNBC or Fox News. He slows the discussion down. Jesus turns the question back on the questioners. He asks the religious leaders to take a coin out of their pocket. They do. Then he asks them whose image is on the coin.
Remember last week we heard the story of the golden calf? An animal’s likeness cast in metal was a problem. Having the image an emperor, who claimed to be divine, in your pocket was blasphemy. Jesus calls out his testers’ hypocrisy. They aren’t following their own rules. Then Jesus says, playfully, “give to the emperor what is the emperor’s. Give to God what is God’s.” Jesus doesn’t choose a side. He restates the bigger question. Faced with a partisan polarity, Jesus goes deeper. He questions the whole system and points people back to their values.
The religious leaders were certain they were going to be able to trap Jesus, but Jesus doesn’t often traffic in certainties. In his own polarized days, Jesus overturned the broken status quo. He brought healing, gentleness, and he assembled an embarrassingly inclusive community of followers. Even the tax collectors were welcome. Even the centurion’s kids were saved from death. Jesus’ vision of God’s love and healing did not make room for partisan orthodoxies.
Episcopalians Shouldn’t Be Down about their Faith
Often I hear Episcopalians denigrate their own faith. I know a number of us struggle with the Nicene Creed, which we’ll say just after I sit down. Notice though, what the creed doesn’t say. We don’t say “We are certain that Jesus was born of a Virgin.” We don’t say, “We are certain that God’s pronouns are he/him.” We don’t say, “we are certain that the church always has its act together.” I want to hold open the space for daylight between belief and certainty. Belief and certainty are not the same thing. Belief is more pliable. Belief asks us to trust in a story, and trust is in somehow both more difficult and more flexible than certitude. Faith isn’t about being certain, it’s not. Faith asks and offers something more.
I love the story today of Moses. Moses’ relationship with God is one of highs and lows. When Moses first receives God’s call he asks if there could be someone else. Moses stands before pharaoh, he leads the people out of slavery to freedom, but then he has to listen to them grumble. Moses is on the receiving end of God’s frustration when the people misbehave.
Black Liberation theologians explain that what you have to understand about Exodus is timing. It only takes a few days for God to get the people out of slavery. But it takes years to get the slavery out of the people. These wandering years are tough, and you can understand why Moses wants to see God’s glory. You can feel Moses craving for that certainty. If he can just know that all this frustration, all the personnel management, all his work will be worth it. Moses wants to glimpse God face to face.
God’s answer comes, no. “Moses, you wouldn’t survive seeing my glory.” So instead Moses gets to see God’s backside. What a metaphor for the life of faith. Even the prophet doesn’t get to grasp what God is like, not fully. We can’t fully know God’s glory in this life. We only get to see God from behind. Our role is one of constant seeking, constant following. The life of faith is not about the arrival but about the journey. Faith is to be found in the seeking.
Seeking Faith
That sort of faith, the faith that is about seeking, the faith that is about the journey, may feel frustrating and incomplete, but I think in the end it is more useful to us. When you have certainty about religious questions, that may feel good in the moment, but certainty tends to crumble on you. Especially when life gets difficult. When you have faith, you get used to uncertainty. Faith helps you walk through the uncertain days.
This week I watched a man of faith, a friend, lead in a way that must have been incredibly hard. I happened to be in the same seminary class as his grace, Archbishop Naoum of Jerusalem and the Middle East. When we were together in Virginia, I simply knew him as Hosam. I watched this week as my friend appeared on international news, after an explosion in Gaza killed hundreds of Palestinians seeking shelter under the protection of an Anglican hospital.
Across the region and the world, many were quick to lay blame. Palestinians blamed the Israelis. Israelis claim it was the Palestinians. If I was in Hosam’s shoes, I probably would have said something I regretted. I could have easily chosen a side, but my friend didn’t. In the midst of the outcry from either side, he didn’t blame but he stated the obvious. What happened was a crime against humanity. We must pray for the violence to stop. We must work to bring humanitarian aid to those who suffer. The archbishop looked exhausted and grief-stricken, but his was a voice of faith in a sea of too many certainties. Hosam didn’t take one side or the other, and in doing so he called both sides to account.
In these violent and difficult days, God invites us to stop dismissing one another. God invites us to choose to attend to difficult relationships by letting go of our need to always be right. God calls us not to certainty but to faith. Give to God what is God’s. Amen.
Mike Angell 