The religious leaders thought Jesus was threatening to tear down the Temple. Instead, He was expanding it, so it encompassed and served the world.
At first glance, silence appears to be a rather simple experience. The absence of sound. Upon further reflection, however, there are different kinds of silence.
The silence of respect occurs when a judge enters the courtroom. The silence of rebellion occurs when a captive refuses to help his captors. Museums are filled with the silence of awe at objects of beauty and hospital rooms are filled with the silence of shock when trauma cannot be expressed in words. Silence is multifaceted and mysterious.
In Matthew’s story of the Pharisees seeking to entrap Jesus, he takes us from the silence of death to the silence of discovery.
The Pharisees were tired of the noise. When Jesus entered Jerusalem, he was surrounded by noise. The Temple was holy and holiness needed careful attending. There were lamps to trim, sacrifices to offer, prayers to speak, and blessings to pronounce reverentially. There were boundaries built by law and tradition so everyone knew what belonged where, who could stand where, and what should be said by whom.
But then, Jesus came, not quietly, but noisily. Tables were turned over, coins rolled across stone, doves flew from their cages, and, afterward, the blind and the lame came in, and Jesus healed them as if that is what the Temple was for (21:14). The silence of reverence was broken with the noise of Jesus as silly children shouted His praise.
What the religious leaders needed was something to silence Jesus and that is when they found it: The perfect question. It was a question that looked holy on the outside but was poisonous within.
“Is it lawful to pay taxes to Caesar or not?” The question was perfect because it trapped Jesus into one of two answers. Whatever answer He gave would lead to trouble. If He answered, “Yes,” then some would question whether He believed in God’s lordship over Israel. If He answered, “No,” then others would see Him as inciting rebellion against Rome.
They sent their disciples to ask Jesus the question and then stood there, in the back, in silent smugness, waiting to see a self-induced execution.
When you hand someone a knife, you are careful. You do not want to get cut. So, it was similar with their question about taxes. They handled it with care. They knew it could cut. They hoped it would kill. Therefore, they carefully handed it to Jesus, wrapped it in pious flattery, and in an insincere search for the truth. “Teacher, we know that You are true and teach the way of God truthfully...” (22:16).
Instead of truth, however, they wanted blood. Instead of an answer, they wanted silence. They wanted Jesus dead.
Instead of truth, however, they wanted blood. Instead of an answer, they wanted silence. They wanted Jesus dead.
But Jesus has a way of overcoming death. In this case, He simply changed the question. “Whose image is this?” He said, holding up a coin. “If you see Caesar’s image, then render to Caesar... but if you see God’s image, then render to God.”
That is the beauty of this conversation. Jesus leads His listeners to silence but not the silence of death. Instead, He gives us the silence of discovery. What is God’s image? Where is that image imprinted? How are those things upon which it is imprinted given to God?
Caesar could stamp his image on metal. He could put his name on roads, on buildings, on armies, and on decrees. He could claim his taxes and the Jewish people’s obedience and even their lives but there is one place his image never reached. He could not claim God’s creation of human beings. That he could not do.
We live in a world where so many claims are made upon our lives. It is easy to lose sight of who we are and what we are here to do.
With one clarifying question, Jesus restores our vision. Where is the image of God? You do not need to search your pockets to pull out a coin. No, you just need to touch your face. You are created in the image of God. Your life is a miniature picture of how God would care for His world. As you do the laundry, shop for groceries, place your mother’s medicine in the daily pillboxes, you are imaging God. You are making known His presence and His work in the world.
That is what is so beautiful about Luther’s understanding of us being masks of God. Jesus is not entering the world in a noisy way, drawing attention to Himself. No, He quietly works through the lives of His people. He created them for this work, He equips them for His service, and He blesses their work with small glimpses of the body of Christ and the restoration of creation.
The religious leaders thought Jesus was threatening to tear down the Temple. Instead, He was expanding it, so it encompassed and served the world.
When Jesus did enter the silence of death, He did so not because He was tricked into it but because He promised to overcome it and lead us to the discovery that we are children of God. God made us in His image, but He has also placed upon us the image of His Son. We are clothed in Christ’s righteousness. Picture a child being baptized, wearing a white garment. Picture a casket draped in a white funeral pall. From our birth in baptism to our death and entry into glory, we are forgiven. We are covered with Christ’s righteousness in love that leads us to bow our heads before God, in reverential silence and awe.
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Additional Resources:
Craft of Preaching-Check out 1517’s resources on Matthew 22:15-22.
Concordia Theology-Various helps from Concordia Seminary in St. Louis, MO to assist you in preaching Matthew 22:15-22.
Lectionary Kick-Start-Check out this fantastic podcast from Craft of Preaching authors Peter Nafzger and David Schmitt as they dig into the texts for this Sunday!
The Pastor’s Workshop-Check out all the great preaching resources from our friends at the Pastor’s Workshop!
