“Spot the Phony”

Mark 12: 35-44

35 And as Jesus taught in the temple, he said, "How can the scribes say that the Christ is the son of David? 36 David himself, in the Holy Spirit, declared, "'The Lord said to my Lord, Sit at my right hand, until I put your enemies under your feet.' 37 David himself calls him Lord. So how is he his son?" And the great throng heard him gladly.

38 And in his teaching he said, "Beware of the scribes, who like to walk around in long robes and like greetings in the marketplaces 39 and have the best seats in the synagogues and the places of honor at feasts, 40 who devour widows' houses and for a pretense make long prayers. They will receive the greater condemnation."

41 And he sat down opposite the treasury and watched the people putting money into the offering box. Many rich people put in large sums. 42 And a poor widow came and put in two small copper coins, which make a penny. 43 And he called his disciples to him and said to them, "Truly, I say to you, this poor widow has put in more than all those who are contributing to the offering box. 44 For they all contributed out of their abundance, but she out of her poverty has put in everything she had, all she had to live on." †

Phony spotting

Holden Caulfield, the central character of J.D.  Salinger’s ever-popular Catcher in the Rye, sees phonies wherever he goes. Though he’s a bright, privileged adolescent with everything going for him, Holden can’t manage to connect with anyone because he harbors judgments against almost everyone. He uses the word “phony” over thirty times; it’s his go to mantra as he wants to—yet fears to—connect meaningfully with others.

Holden is like Hamlet, that messiah of despair and prophet of no kingdom, who, between his need for love and his constant judgments of others, creates his own, personal hell-on-Earth. What they have in common is that they are both inveterate phony-spotters—both are consumed with finding and naming all the forms of falseness in their world.

Just five months ago, in the final heat of a dirtier-than-average, presidential election, American media had taken phony-spotting to new heights. Forget all about supporting a candidate; the game was clearly about hate. Hilary-hating, Trump-hating—spot the phony, spot the phony. I seriously wish someone would invent some kind of troll repellent, because it has become impossible to turn the news on the tv or search a website without having to endure a tirade of Holden Caulfields blaring their all-knowing judgments with every headline, comment, and tweet.

Here in the first 100 days of the Trump presidency, the game has not quieted. Trump-hating seems to be the new national pastime, if the New York Times, CNN and MSNBC are any indication.

The media have become today’s Holden Caulfields and today’s Hamlets. Journalists  have always parked themselves in that gap between public opinion and legitimate authority, steno pads in hand, voracious—even bloodthirsty—for any scrap of information that enables them to say, “Phony! Phony!”

This was once known as the Rolling Stone method of journalism: point-and-poke, point-and-poke. Look at that guy—he’s a phony! Look at that—that stinks! Rolling Stone once occupied the pinnacle of the pyramid of countercultural credibility. From their origins as a hippie tabloid featuring music reviews, they grew into the premier, alternative, journalistic voice of the baby boom generation, introducing Hunter S. Thompson and gonzo journalism to the world. The idea behind their gonzo journalism was that objectivity in news was not possible and therefore undesirable. All journalism is advocacy journalism. Everyone is on a side, everyone takes a side, so pull no punches and try your best to bury the opposition.

Today, the Rolling Stone method is no longer countercultural; it is the mainline. Like Hamlet, the prince of despair who could neither rule nor abide rule, the media sit in the middle to point-and-poke, point-and-poke. Like Holden Caulfield, the avatar of morose adolescence, the media lives to spot the phony, spot the phony.

With Bible passages like today’s, we might imagine that journalists could find some professional support in Jesus, who, with his disciples, sits across from the treasury and plays of version this same spot the phony game. In recent history, American radicals have drawn support from these passages, some going so far as to say that Jesus was, like them, a radical.

As we look at the text, we’ll see that any resemblance is superficial at best. The lesson for you and me is that we all embody a degree of phoniness, we all are rich, and we all are poor.

Temple Phonies

Jesus has been approached by every faction of the temple leadership and questioned in that disrespectful gotcha kind of way. He has turned away all challengers and no one is left that dares ask any questions, but Jesus is still teaching, so he asks the questions now. 

“How can the Christ be David’s son?” he asks. Again, in keeping with his reluctance to proclaim himself seen throughout Mark’s gospel, he wants his people to see and acknowledge that, yes, he is the messiah, but it must come from faith and not flat out proof. Jesus reveal himself in humility, and it is as if he is almost begging his listeners to figure him out.

Ever showed a child a trick only to have them beg you to show them how it was done? Do you show them or do you say, “Watch me again, but watch very closely to my left hand.”? They watch with fascination, and you want them to get it, but if you just show them, it seems to cheapen the discovery. It means so much more when they figure it out themselves. That’s what Jesus is doing in talking about the messiah. He is saying, “Come on! Watch a little closer. What do we know about the messiah? Yes, he’s a descendent of David but he is to be so much more. How much more? David himself calls him “Lord” which means he is superior to David, on the level of God!” 

The crowd listened with gladness because Jesus was teaching as one with authority, unlike the scribes, and they knew he was speaking the truth.

“Beware of the scribes, who like to walk around in long robes and like greetings in the marketplaces and have the best seats in the synagogues and the places of honor at feasts, who devour widows' houses and for a pretense make long prayers.”

Jerusalem, during Passover, was like Hollywood during the Oscars. People were in town from every corner of the country. Normal folk from the outlying regions rubbed shoulders with the top names in Judaism. People fawning over them. Paparazzi journalists pressing in at the red carpet areas of the temple. [Journalist voice]: “Ooh, there’s the high priest, Caiaphas! Caiaphas! Who are you wearing? That’s got to be the longest tallith we’ve ever seen.” For the temple leaders, Passover was the night of nights, and they were the kings and captains of the industry.

In fact, just as Hollywood’s Oscar night show us an industry in worship of itself, its own glamour and its own power—so had Passover become a glamor gala focusing more on its earthly vanities than higher purposes. For the  brief holiday, the people of Jerusalem felt they were on top of the world. The temple industry stood at the center of the Jewish identity. The prize of the event? Prestige, being recognized and something like respect and honor.

It seems Jesus isn’t yet done clearing the temple. Jesus says beware. Beware the glitz and glamor, beware the temple pageantry, and beware those who use it all to boost themselves up in their own eyes. The very thing the Disciples and the crowds had grown up admiring and perhaps longing for, Jesus now brings back to Earth. When Jesus says, They will receive the greater condemnation, he reveals himself as the true judge not only of the temple, but of human souls as well, for it is God alone who knows the final judgment.

Showy Giving

Jesus and the Disciples take a seat across from the treasury. This is likely in the Court of Women, which was open to all Jews (Gentiles were excluded). This is the real red carpet area. People would drop coins into boxes with horn-shaped receptacles outside the treasury, and we have to imagine that at this time of year it was quite a show.

Remember how big the Jerry Lewis Labor Day telethons used to be? To anyone under 25, it may be hard to imagine, but Jerry Lewis raised millions every year for the Muscular Dystrophy Association. Anyone who was anyone showed up onscreen to hand over huge checks or even answer phones. Across the country, everyone watched—superbowl ratings—as the stars and captains of industry stepped onstage to announce the size of their donations.

I think the temple treasury was probably like this. The Passover crowds watched as local elites  stepped up and poured handfuls of coins into the horns. People cheered and thought wonderful thoughts about the donors. This was a big deal, and for the temple insiders, this was their Christmas business season, the most important week of the year.

But Jesus is unimpressed. He points out not those who give out of their abundance, but calls his disciples to regard a widow who has put in two bucks. Jesus tells them it was all she had and therefore more than the others had given. The others had plenty; they showed up every year to play at being big givers, but for this widow there was likely no fanfare, no applause, no trumpets, no telethon. She, not the others, is the truly committed one.

It has been said that the difference between being truly committed and merely interested is as simple as your bacon and eggs: the chicken is interested, but the pig is committed.

We All are Critics

The Church may also have something of the self-loving industry about it. We have our favorite pews, our happy gathering of wonderful Christians—a gig we may not like to have altered or even reformed. This text of Jesus in the temple is to be for us a mirror to things we need to see about ourselves, even the things we do not want to admit to.

We, like the temple leaders, bring some of our love of comfort, recognition and tradition into the pews with us. We are givers—even big givers—but may secretly be withholding something from the Lord’s total dominion and control.

There is something of the phony and the phony-spotter in each of us. We all do our share of point-and-poke. We live in a critical world and we all share in that criticism. We’d all like to be critical, but we don’t like being criticized. We judge but don’t like being judged. This is the hypocrisy of the temple leaders: they loved playing judge but couldn’t tolerate the judgment of Jesus.

To criticize others and not be criticized is what we call an expert. We’d all like that place at the pinnacle of the pyramid where we can criticize all and be criticized by none.  To do so is the picture of ultimate credibility.

Credibility—it may be disappearing from the media, but above and beyond our desire to hear what we like, there is a deeper part of us that wants to know the truth and to hear it.

Like the widow, we must be willing to surrender—who we are, what we have, and what we hope to become—our entire livelihood, in order to live in that other kingdom, the real kingdom, where God is known and glorified; and his every son and daughter lives and loves in the light of his perfect truth.  †

“Tale of Two Worlds”

Mark 12: 13-27

13 And they sent to him some of the Pharisees and some of the Herodians, to trap him in his talk. 14And they came and said to him, "Teacher, we know that you are true and do not care about anyone's opinion. For you are not swayed by appearances, but truly teach the way of God. Is it lawful to pay taxes to Caesar, or not? Should we pay them, or should we not?" 15 But, knowing their hypocrisy, he said to them, "Why put me to the test? Bring me a denarius and let me look at it." 16 And they brought one. And he said to them, "Whose likeness and inscription is this?" They said to him, "Caesar's." 17 Jesus said to them, "Render to Caesar the things that are Caesar's, and to God the things that are God's." And they marveled at him.18 And Sadducees came to him, who say that there is no resurrection. And they asked him a question, saying, 19 "Teacher, Moses wrote for us that if a man's brother dies and leaves a wife, but leaves no child, the man must take the widow and raise up offspring for his brother. 20 There were seven brothers; the first took a wife, and when he died left no offspring. 21 And the second took her, and died, leaving no offspring. And the third likewise. 22 And the seven left no offspring. Last of all the woman also died. 23 In the resurrection, when they rise again, whose wife will she be? For the seven had her as wife." 24 Jesus said to them, "Is this not the reason you are wrong, because you know neither the Scriptures nor the power of God? 25 For when they rise from the dead, they neither marry nor are given in marriage, but are like angels in heaven. 26 And as for the dead being raised, have you not read in the book of Moses, in the passage about the bush, how God spoke to him, saying, 'I am the God of Abraham, and the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob'? 27 He is not God of the dead, but of the living. You are quite wrong."

Best/Worst of times

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us.

So reads the first sentence of A Tale of Two Cities by Charles Dickens. He was writing about London and Paris and the French Revolution. Perhaps in all times of revolution there are large groups of people who are bursting with hope as a new era promises to be born. Excitable and dedicated to their cause, the revolutionaries believe at any moment their new order will emerge, and then there will be justice and accountability for those who have for so long sat in the seats of power and repressed the dreams of the nation.

The good guys go for liberty and the brave new world, the bad guys protect the status quo and their own privilege and property.

We see a similar dynamic in the Jerusalem temple. The common folk, following Jesus, hope for the overthrow of Rome and a new order to replace the scribes, pharisees and high priests who have parked themselves in seats of power and will be making no room for anyone to share in that power. A new age of justice, fairness, and the land taken back from the Roman overlords and returned to its rightful owners, the people.

Our text today contains two vignettes of Jesus being tested by Jewish leaders in the temple: one about paying taxes and another about resurrection. As we look at these two events, we’ll see that they are linked and related. Not two cities, but two worlds touch and feel the other’s influence. Our hope is to see in them a mirror of our own day and issues. Our hope is to return to our lives refreshed, with a greater perspective—a God-perspective—that will serve us in the conflicts and tests that we meet at work and at home.

Test One: Taxes

As you’ll remember from last week, the high priests had been outfaced by Jesus. They tried to trap him and were caught in their own trap. They had to leave in humiliation, answering “We do not know” to Jesus’ question about the ministry of John the Baptism.

So now, they send in the second string: Pharisees and Herodians. Pharisees, you’ll remember, were the die-hards of Jewish practice, devout to the letter of the law and loyal to their centuries-old traditions as well. Herodians, we believe, were a party loyal to King Herod, the puppet-king of Israel. Normally, we think Pharisees and Herodians would have been political opponents, but their mutual dislike of Jesus actually brought them together.

We’ve seen them together before—at Capernaum in the synagogue—when Jesus healed the man with the withered hand. Mark 3:6 reads:

The Pharisees went out and immediately held counsel with the Herodians against him, how to destroy him.

They had been out to get him since chapter 3 and now they confront him in the temple.

"Teacher, we know that you are true and do not care about anyone's opinion. For you are not swayed by appearances, but truly teach the way of God. Is it lawful to pay taxes to Caesar, or not? Should we pay them, or should we not?"

Now what they say about Jesus is true—he has  total integrity—no one owns him nor does he engage in people-pleasing. In asking, “should we pay taxes or not?” they were trying to force Jesus into the division of the people. He could not win with either a yes or no answer, but would outrage one group or another.

The tax was a poll tax—a per capita head tax—and to pay it was to pad the pockets of their Roman occupiers and oppressors. To refuse to pay taxes brought you under severe penalties—people could lose their homes and properties for failure to pay taxes.

The group of radical revolutionaries of the day—called Zealots—had originally formed in about 6 AD as a revolt against this Roman poll tax. They were fanatical in their hatred of Roman rule.

Were Jesus to say, “Yes, pay taxes to Caesar!” the Pharisees would have pounced, charging him as a heretic or even a traitor against Israel. Many thought his purpose was to be the conquering Messiah who would reestablish the throne of David and Godly rule. Were he to say, “No, don’t pay taxes to Caesar,” Herodians would label him treasonous and subversive, and the Roman guard could arrest him. The wanted a double-bind for Jesus—a no-win, heads-we-win-tails-you-lose quandary that would get him back for what he did to the high priests and provide them with a handle by which they could legally take him down.

Jesus sees their trap, and responds by asking for a denarius. A denarius was the required coinage for paying the tax. On the coin was inscribed, “Augustus Tiberius, son of the Divine Augustus.” No religiously observant Jew would have been caught with such a coin because it had a graven image of someone the coin claimed to be a god. To carry such a coin—within the temple no less—would have been tantamount to carrying an idol. Obviously, Jesus does not have one, but someone in the crowd brings the coin forward.

“Whose engraving and name is written on it?” says Jesus.

“Caesar’s.”

“Well then it obviously belongs to him. Give Caesar what’s his, and give God what is God’s.”

The first part of this is simple and straightforward: Caesar minted the coins; they are all rightfully his own—his own silver. The second part is more challenging, giving to God what belongs to God. Our question is:

Where do we see the image and signature of God?

Image of God

Jesus sets the higher bar. Just as all Roman silver rightfully belongs to Caesar because it. bears his image and signature, so all people—even all creation—belongs to God because it bears his image and signature. Every human being is made in God’s image, so every person is rightfully God’s possession. It is therefore wrong to claim anything or anyone as our own. Caesar gets his silver back, but that’s just a few coins. God gets everything back, because everything is his.

Jesus does not please the Zealots, nor does he outrage them. He addresses the good that is beyond the narrower, finite good which they advocate.

The Sadducees were watching, and Jesus’ answer would have impressed them (even as it “amazed” the rest of the crowd). The high priests and elders failed. The second-string Pharisees and Herodians failed. Now it’s the Sadducees turn.

Bride for 7 Brothers

It only makes sense that the Sadducees stepped in here. This is the only place Mark mentions them, and to put it bluntly, they were all about money and material things. Sadducees:

•followed only the written Law of Moses.

•were aristocratic, upper-crust of society.

•held a materialist worldview.

•took care of temple maintenance.

•collected the taxes for Rome.

•managed all formal affairs of state.

•regulated relations with the Romans.

•disbelieved in spirits, angels, or soul.

•disbelieved in resurrection or afterlife.

As the chief tax-collectors for Israel, they probably like the “render to Caesar” line, but they want to trap him on the idea of resurrection, so they give Jesus the story of the bride for seven brothers and then ask him, “If there were to be a resurrection, then whose wife would she be?”

Jesus’ response is uncompromising and he pulls no punches: the Sadducees are just plain wrong.

In that they did not regard the prophets, psalms or writings as functionally canonical, they stood in opposition to the Pharisees’ traditions.

They were kind of like trustees (not our trustees, of course, who are Godly men and women!), but the kind of people who have the attitude that says, “Okay, Pastor, you take care of all that prayer and preaching mumbo jumbo, but we will take care of the budget and investments—the real world.”

In today’s terms, materialists are those who shun any talk of supernatural things. I know Christians who disbelieve in angels, demons—even heaven and hell—in favor of their own rigorous adherence to what can be seen, observed, touched and experience. Remember Thomas!

Popular atheism and agnosticism, often posing under the banner of Science tend to hold this worldview today. If it can’t be scientifically verified, then it does not exist, etc.

Jesus’ words to the Sadducees apply to today’s materialists as well: “You know neither the Scriptures nor the power of God.”

The Lord is God of the living, not the dead. Jesus makes clear that there is a place—a kingdom that is not of this world—where Abraham, Isaac, Jacob and Joseph are alive and living in communion with the heavenly Father.

Two Worlds, not one

Zealots past and present tend toward the opinion that this world is all that is and all that matters. They criticize religious people for being “head in the clouds” or “pie in the sky” dreamers. They are not entirely wrong. We do see a kind of Christianity that is so heavenly-focused that it is of little earthly good (as far as materialists can see). They gather, and worship in the full flow of the Holy Spirit—in utter ecstasy—being poured into and poured out of in pentecostal fervor, and then get in their cars, go home, and live their normal lives for a week before coming back to get into that heavenly flow. It is possible to be so other-worldly minded that we lose our sense of mission here.

Similarly, there are social action Christians so committed to justice and peace that they all but forget the reason they began that work. We can err either way.

Here’s the thing: you and I were born here and put into the flesh for a purpose. God could have created us pure spirits and simply made us to live with him in Heaven, but that is clearly not his plan or intention for us here today. We were given the gift of this fleshly life for a purpose; namely, to glorify him. Scripture both tells us and shows us what that looks like. Yes, it includes seeking justice for the poor, hospitality for the stranger, healing for the broken, and direction for the lost.

We are not here simply to bide our time awaiting our celestial doorway to open; we are to pursue the ongoing ministry of Jesus Christ embodied through this community of faith. What Jesus would be doing, we should be doing.

Yes, Jesus spent time in prayer and worship, in retreat and communion; but he also healed the sick, cast out demons, and brought hope, joy and blessings to his every encounter—all as signs of his kingdom here and now and yet to come.

Jesus didn’t say: “Don’t be a zealot” or “Don’t be a Pharisee” or a Sadducee, or scribe, or anything else. The one thing all of those groups had in common is the only thing that matters: none of them were followers of Jesus.

Any of those groups could have been touched, transformed and renewed (as I suspect many individuals among them were, like Paul).

Our hope—our proclamation and our service—all grow out of what Jesus has done for us. And all things we attempt have no center other than that God receive all glory.         †