Trinity 23 texts: Proverbs 8:11-22; Philippians 3:17-21; Matthew 22:15-22

Bianca Ehling was baptized at this Divine Service.

It’s early in the week – just a day after Palm Sunday, the day Jesus rode into Jerusalem. The crowds hail Jesus as their king. All Jerusalem is abuzz. “Messiah has come!” It is time, the Pharisees decide, to solve this Jesus problem once and for all. So the Pharisees conspire with the Herodians to lay a trap for Jesus. The Herodians were a Jewish political party that was loyal to King Herod; a key part of their platform was submission to Roman rule. Together with the Pharisees, they try to put Jesus in a no-win situation. They ask, “Is it lawful to pay taxes to Caesar, or not?” If Jesus says, “Don’t pay the taxes,” the Herodians will report these words of rebellion, and Jesus will be arrested. But if He says that people should pay the taxes, this (they suppose) will turn the people against Him; they’ll lose confidence that Jesus is the Messiah, because – they imagined – the Messiah will free the Jews from their Roman overlords.

They have sprung the trap – but Jesus cannot be trapped. His answer allows Him to escape their trap, but even more, it reveals to us the important teaching of the two kingdoms: the worldly kingdom of power, and the heavenly kingdom of grace.

“Show Me the coin,” Jesus says. “Whose picture is this? What name is written here?” And just like money today has the name of the government and a picture of a ruler, the Roman coin had Caesar’s picture and name on it. After they acknowledge this, Jesus tells them, “Since the coin has Caesar’s picture and name on it, then it belongs to him. Give it to him.” But then, the kicker: “But you must give to God what belongs to Him.”

So we must pay our taxes, and give the government its due – but even more important, we must give God what is owed Him. And there are punishments attached to these laws: The government threatens you with prison, but God threatens with hell.

Now it’s very easy to become dissatisfied with our government. We all probably imagine that we could do a much better job. Today, Christians are sometimes smitten with the idea that we need to help our poor, weak God out by “taking back the country” for Him. It’s not really a new thought. Dr. Luther put it this way:

Even real Christians are sometimes tempted [in] this way[:] They see that the world at large, and particularly their own government, is being so poorly managed that they feel like jumping in and taking over. But this is wrong. No one should suppose that God wants to have us govern and rule this way with the law and punishment of the world. The Christians’ way is altogether different. They neither deal with such things nor care about them. They are perfectly content to leave these things to the care of those who are authorized to distribute property, to do business, to punish, and to protect. As Christ teaches: “Render to Caesar the things that are Caesar’s.” For we have been transferred to another and a higher existence, a divine and an eternal kingdom, where the things that belong to the world are unnecessary and where in Christ everyone is a lord for himself over both the devil and the world, as we have said elsewhere.

So our goal as Christians is not to take over the government, or impose a theocracy. We must stand up for basic human rights, including the most fundamental right, the right to life for every human person, whether born or unborn. But we must ever remember that the Church is not a political action committee. We gather as the people of God under no earthly banner; our standard is the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ. When you despair about the state of the world, the condition of our government, the future of our nation, or when you are tempted to boast in earthly power and glory, remember the words of St. Paul we heard today:  “Our citizenship is in heaven.”

For now, we walk in two worlds, two kingdoms: we are citizens in this earthly realm, most of us under the government of the United States. It is not wrong, but can even be honorable, to go to court, hold public office, serve as a soldier. God has established these worldly offices, too, to protect us and to help us serve our neighbors. Are you a soldier? Do not act maliciously, or abuse your power. Are you in government? Work for the people, and not yourself. Are you a judge? Take no bribes, and judge impartially. Are you a citizen? Pay your taxes, show honor to the rulers, and pray for those whom God has placed over you.

All this is rendering to Caesar the things that are Caesar’s. But then, the far weightier obligation: “Render to God the things that are God’s.” Who can say he has done this? For what belongs to God? As the engraving on the coin shows its governing authority, so has God stamped His image on the things belonging to Him. The first man, our father Adam, was made in the image of God. That image was renewed and stamped on you in the Sacrament of Baptism. When the pastor traces the sign of the cross on the person being baptized, as with Bianca today, he says, “Receive the sign of the holy cross on both your forehead and your heart, to mark you as one redeemed by Christ the crucified.” The Scripture describes those written in the Book of Life as having the name of God written on their foreheads.

So as the name of the government is written on our money, and thus we must render to that government its due, even so is the name of God written on us, and we must offer to God what is His, what belongs to Him – everything we are, everything we have, placed at His disposal, doing His will with joy.

Have you done this? No. Our “minds [are] set on earthly things” (Epistle) – we are far more interested in pursuing the things that belong to Caesar, i.e., the coins, the money. That is why our Old Testament reading is given to us today, to remind us that there are things far more significant than money: “For wisdom is better than jewels, and all that you may desire cannot compare with her.” In the same book, Proverbs, it is written, “Wisdom is the principal thing; Therefore get wisdom. And in all your getting, get understanding” (4.7).

So where is the Gospel, the Good News, in the words of Jesus today? The Good News is where it always is: in Jesus Himself. God the Son took on our human nature so that, as a man, He could render to God the things that are God’s. Christ is the very image of the invisible God, and He rendered Himself, gave Himself up to God for us. He paid the tax that we owe; or in the language of last Sunday’s parable, He stepped in and paid that enormous debt that we by our sins have incurred.

The result of His obedience is this great promise – these words from today’s Epistle that we always read at the graveside of a Christian, as earth is poured on the coffin in the shape of a cross. “We now commit [this person's] body to the ground: earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust, in the sure and certain hope of the resurrection to eternal life through our Lord Jesus Christ, who will transform our lowly bodies that they may be like His glorious body, by the power that enables Him to subdue all things to Himself.” That is the funeral sermon in brief: man returns to dust, as God declared to our first father Adam after he rebelled; but by the resurrection of Jesus, God will raise us up from the same dust to a new and glorified body.

And that is why we can pay our taxes and not despair over the problems in our world and government – because that’s not the citizenship that ultimately matters. Our citizenship is in heaven, from which we await a Savior, our Lord Jesus Christ.

So to sum everything up today: pay your taxes and show honor to the government, but remember you have a higher, eternal citizenship in the kingdom of God. So don’t let your pursuit be in earthly things; don’t have your belly – your lusts and desires – for your God; but pursue Wisdom by fixing your eyes on Jesus. He is coming to transform your lowly body to be like His glorious body, and in His kingdom shall you ever abide.

Dearly beloved, this week is our holiest of weeks. Holy Week comes at the end of a season of self-denial, a season of repentance, a season of renewal in prayer. Perhaps it’s been such a season for you. But for at least some of you, it hasn’t. Lent has been a disappointment and a frustration, as it seems instead of becoming more holy, more of a disciple of Jesus, you’ve been exposed for what you really are. A fraud, perhaps; or a traitor; or a pragmatist, going along with the crowd in order to keep your job, your position, your reputation, what’s left of your savings. Lent is a time to discover anew the love of God, and how much good can come from obedience; but maybe what you’ve discovered is your capacity for deceit, hypocrisy, laziness and self-pity.

And then we read the Passion of St. Matthew and find out we are not alone. We hear about Judas the traitor, Pilate the pragmatist, Peter the coward, and a crowd so fickle they sing Psalms to Jesus and then turn around and demand His death.

In them, we must learn to see ourselves, to say,

“I am Judas, betraying my Lord. I am a false disciple. I put money ahead of everything else. And then I let despair have its way with me. Sometimes it seems like it would be good if I were dead, and maybe I should end it all.

“And I am Pilate. I know what is right but I don’t do it. I put the blame on someone else, and look the other way at injustice. I worry what others will think, what will happen to me. Times are tough, the economy uncertain; if I don’t go along with what these people want, I’ll be reported and I could lose my job.

“And I am Peter. What a failure I am! I’ve spent all this time with Jesus, listening to His Word, learning the ways of God, but when the time for confession comes, I’m scared of a servant. A little girl!

“And I am one of the crowd. All my worship was just a show; when the mob changed course, I went right along with them.”

But then in this story we see one Man who is different. One Man who, when faced with despair, cried out to God. When threatened with violence, with laughter, with spitting; when bloodied and lacerated and pierced did not flinch, but took it like a man – no, took it like no man ever has. And this Man, who alone is not a fraud, not a coward, not a hypocrite, not a pragmatist, not fickle—this Man surveys His fallen disciples, the corrupt priests of His temple, the heartless leaders of His government, and the crowd to which He had given everything He had—He looked out on these and gave one thing more: His own life. And in doing so, this sinless Man, this perfect Man, this righteous Man, said, “I am Judas, I am Pilate, I am Peter, I am the crowd. All their sin I become, that all their sin I might remove.”

And we who see ourselves in this story as Judas, Pilate, Peter, and the crowd see ourselves also in Him, and He in us. For your Jesus gazes out from the cross and says, “Everything you are I have become, that everything I am I might give to you. Your treason is Mine, your faithlessness is Mine, your heartlessness is Mine, your lust is Mine, your greed is Mine, your cowardice is Mine, your despair is Mine, your punishment is Mine, your death is Mine, your hell is Mine.

“And in return, My righteousness is yours, My reward is yours, My inheritance is yours, My salvation is yours, My life is yours, My kingdom is yours. And all of that I wrap up in this one little saying: ‘It is finished.’ When I have finished it, it is finished; when I have absolved it, it is absolved; when I have atoned for it, it is atoned for; when I have buried it, it is buried; what I have made new, is new. So follow Me, and do not despair. Follow Me, and do not be afraid. Follow Me, and do not sin. Follow Me, for where I go is now opened to you, for what I open no one can close, and I have opened life and heaven and the Father to you.”

Now come, and drink sweet wine from the one who tasted the sour for you, for it is His blood, given for you and for many for the remission of your sins and the resurrection of your body.

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Some of the ideas in this are drawn from an outstanding sermon for Palm Sunday 2005 by Rev. David Petersen, Pastor of Redeemer Lutheran Church, Fort Wayne, Indiana.

I was particularly surprised at the number of comments after Divine Service today that indicated people had not experienced before a Palm Sunday liturgy like what is observed at Immanuel. (The biggest surprise seemed to be the reading of the entire Passion of St. Matthew. Um … isn’t that what everybody does?) To be sure, some things are relatively rare in the Missouri Synod: kneeling for the Verba, the minister genuflecting at the altar, etc. But the liturgy we use is, I am happy to say, simply what is given in the Altar Book. It will be the same on Holy Thursday, and Good Friday. None of it is my own invention, or something we bought from a “creative communications” outfit. It’s just the liturgy we have agreed to in the LCMS, and in many respects very similar to the Agenda that accompanied Lutheran Worship. How is it that people haven’t experienced this before?