Coin Tricks

Text: Matthew 22:15-22

There are some who say that Jesus is doing a coin trick. Holding the coin that the Pharisees give him, Jesus says: Give to Caesar the things that are Caesar’s. Give to God the things that are God’s. The trick, according to some, is that Jesus knows that nothing is really Caesar’s. Caesar claimed divinity, but Jesus knows, and we know, that Caesar was just a man. He neither made the world nor owns the world. The world is made by God and the world is God’s. So what is God’s is everything. And Caesar deserves nothing. This interpretation of the passage is good for those who are trying to get people to give money to the church.

There are others who say Jesus is doing a coin trick, but of a different kind. Holding the coin that the Pharisees give him, Jesus points out that it has two sides. On one side is an image of Caesar. The trick is that on the other side there is not. According to some, Jesus is proposing that the world is divided into two parts, as cleanly split as the two sides of a coin. A secular worldly realm ruled by Caesar or modern equivalents, and a divine realm. Some things in our lives belong in one realm and other things belong in the other. Taxes and rents and passion belong to Caesar. Prayer and scripture and preaching belong to God. This interpretation is good for people who would like to live two kinds of life: a worldly life and a Sunday life.

But there is no coin trick of either kind. On the one hand, Jesus does not say in this passage that everything is God’s. The passage does not pretend to settle disputes between the world and the divine about who owns what. It is not about sovereignty. It does not help us decide what to do with our money or our time or our affection.

And on the other hand, Jesus does not say we should live a balanced life. Jesus is not proposing that Caesar and God have some kind of equity, some similar legitimacy, some equivalent claim on people. God and Caesar are not on opposite sides of the same coin. Jesus is not saying: some things belong to the world, some things belong to God. You pick. It all depends. Jesus is not saying that. This passage is not support for what Martin Luther called Two Kingdoms. It makes no statement about the role of worldly power.

This passage is not about claims that God or Caesar make on us. It is about claims we make on God or Caesar. It is about the ways we try to stand up as humans in this world. About what we grab for when the ground of our existence is shaking. It is about trust.

In our pockets we carry these little pictures of George Washington, Alexander Hamilton, and such. We are not worshipping these people or the coins or even any thing they stand for. But we do count on them. When we have more of them, we feel better. They protect us and feed us. We trust in them.

When Jesus holds up that coin, he poses a question and makes a proposition. The question he poses is this: whom do you trust? On what do you rely? To whom do you turn? God, or something else? And the proposition he makes is that you cannot answer “Both.” You cannot answer “I trust in both.” Jesus is saying that you cannot answer that way.

There is an idea in physics—I may have this wrong, I’m no scientist—that says that two connected particles, even if separated by great distance, can affect each other instantly, faster than light. Before either particle is observed, its state is unknown, probabilistic. But once you look at one, it becomes known. And at that minute, so does the state of its companion particle. Choosing to trust God or Caesar is a little like that. Which one you choose affects how you see the other. Hypothetically, we can rely on things of the world and on God both. But in practice it seems not to work out that way.

In my case, I might say I trust in God, but I end up worrying about what I should be doing, just in case. Or it is like accepting an offer of a ride back from the movie with a friend, but then calling a cab as insurance. Or inviting two people to go out on a date at the same time, because you’re afraid of being stood up by one of them. Someone is not going to be happy.

When we speak of faith we sometimes say “I believe.” I believe in God. But believing in God doesn’t mean believing that God exists. For the readers of the Bible and the followers of Jesus, the question was never God’s existence. God’s existence was assumed. It goes without saying: God exists. The question is one of trust. Which is another word for faith. Believing in God means believing that God exists for you. That God knows you. That you can rely on God. That you can trust God.

[Child just baptized] is just a little baby. Does he know whom to trust right now? Probably. Trust mom, trust dad. Everyone else, he’s not so sure about them. In his life he will live in a world in which Caesar and God both exist. His parents and his sponsors have just promised “to live with him among God’s faithful people, bring him to the word of God and the holy supper, and nurture him in faith and prayer.” Why? “so that” they have promised, “so that he may learn to trust God.” This is practical advice for people learning to trust God. Gather with others, read the Bible, share in the Lord’s Supper, pray.

Caesar is great. Caesar gives us a lot of things that it seems we cannot do without. Caesar keeps the cars driving on the right so we don’t smash into each other. Caesar organizes firefighters so that buildings don’t burn down. Caesar creates money banks and creates food banks. But in the end, Caesar does not really care about us. Not about you and me in particular. Except as they affect Caesar and the things Caesar cares about. Caesar needs things to work. Caesar’s affection for you is contingent. It is conditional. If you are good in a way that Caesar defines (and I’m not saying you wouldn’t define it in the same way, I’m not saying you wouldn’t think it good, too), if you are good in that way, then Caesar loves you. If not—well, then not. This is not evil or wicked or mean. It is just the way the things of Caesar work. Caesar is, in the words of the Gospel passage, partial. Shows partiality. Between you and Caesar there is always something that gets in the way. What always gets in the way is Caesar’s requirement to see us as functional.

God is great. But unlike Caesar, God cares about us. God is passionate about you, meaning God has feelings for you. God has compassion for you. You in particular. The way we understand God through our experience and through Jesus, God cannot be dispassionate about you. God’s compassion for you is unaffected by your worth or goodness or behavior. That does not mean that God isn’t chagrined or saddened or annoyed by things we do. But God’s compassion for you is not contingent. It is unconditional. God does not regard people with partiality. There is nothing in the way between us and God.

Whom shall we trust? Whom shall we trust with our hardest questions? Who we will let guide us? Whom do we thank for the gifts of life? Whose words make the world understandable?

How do we best stand as humans in this world? To whom do we turn when the ground of our existence is shaking?