Lest we give offense

Last Monday’s Gospel passage in the Christian liturgy details the peculiar passage about the Capernaum Temple tax. The disciples are reeling from what Jesus has told them at the start of the Gospel: the Son of Man is to be “…handed over to men. And they will kill him and he will be raised on the third day.” Matthew’s Gospel passage takes a breath and then:

When they came to Capernaum,
the collectors of the temple tax approached Peter and said,
“Does not your teacher pay the temple tax?”
“Yes,” he said.
When he came into the house, before he had time to speak,
Jesus asked him, “What is your opinion, Simon?
From whom do the kings of the earth take tolls or census tax?
From their subjects or from foreigners?”
When he said, “From foreigners,” Jesus said to him,
“Then the subjects are exempt.
But that we may not offend them, go to the sea, drop in a hook,
and take the first fish that comes up.
Open its mouth and you will find a coin worth twice the temple tax.
Give that to them for me and for you.”

Full Passage.

Always before, upon reading and hearing this Gospel, I focused on Peter’s bizarre trip to the Sea of Galilee: dropping in a hook, opening up the mouth of the first fish that appears and plucking out a valuable coin from its open mouth. Thinking all the while, Of course, go get the money from the mouth of a fish, entirely reasonable. But wait, considering that he’d just come down from seeing the transfigured Christ with Elijah and Moses on Mount Tabor, perhaps Peter merely did what the Master asked, accustomed, after three years, to miracles. The Transfiguration may have recalled Peter’s long-ago walk on water toward Christ. His memory that he began to drown only when he took his eyes off Christ to focus on the surging sea.

All of which now highlights the impact of Jesus’ phrase, that we may not offend them.

Give twice what we don’t owe

Although Jesus hadn’t heard the tax collectors ask their question, we intuit that after three years with the Lord, the fisherman was unsurprised at the recounting of a conversation he wasn’t present to hear. Or by the measured logic of Jesus’ reply taking him to a place that wasn’t logical at all. Right, Peter, we’re not foreigners, we’re subjects of this temple. But lest we give offense, we’ll double the tax we don’t owe.

The Temple tax was not Roman. Moses had established the half-shekel tax when told by God that each person coming to Israel must register and pay the tax. In Moses’ time, it was a one-time tax. But in the way of all tax burdens, it became a yearly tax.

All this past week, Jesus’ phrase, “lest we give offense,” has echoed in my head. The Word who became flesh and dwelled among us wanted no obstacle between him and the people he came from heaven to save. He wanted each of their burdens to be his also.

A primary reason the phrase sticks is this tsunami of offenses threatening to topple us in this mid-second decade of the 21st century: offenses deemed so serious they are termed “hate crimes.” Understanding the language and logic of hate crimes are subjects that dominated my thinking during the multi-year process of writing my last novel:

As he stared at six FBI agents standing on his porch with guns drawn and heard Max barreling down the stairs, about to launch himself at the agent closest to Rich, Rich drew down on years of experience in life-threatening situations: he spoke slowly, clearly, and with menace.

“Put the guns down, gentlemen. If you kill my dogs, wife, or daughters with a stupid move, I swear by all that’s holy, all hell will come down on you and your agency.” Rich grabbed the snarling Doberman with his right hand. “Max, sit.”

For a moment, no one moved. Then Rich nodded at the agents and repeated his words. “Put the guns down now, and tell me why you’re here.” Even standing in his sweatpants and bare feet, Rich had an air of authority. His voice’s low pitch and cadence, combined with a cold, calculated expression, conveyed more than any words could.

The agent closest to Rich cleared his throat and holstered his weapon, signaling the other five to do the same.
“I’m Agent Mark Blankenship, and I’m here to arrest Dr. Lindsey McCall for conspiracy to commit a federal hate crime against the American transgendered community and the unintentional murder of Joey Carmichael.”

Plausible Liars

These are times when

telling God we’ve had enough can tempt. When, like Elijah, the idea of sitting down and begging for it to be over sounds like the only reasonable plan. American colleges permitting groups demanding that Jews renounce their faith to access certain campus facilities. Political leaders insisting that abortion is congruent with Christianity. And known foreign killers walking across the border into our country.

“Lord, I’ve had enough!”

But then, our eyes are drawn to the cross, the quintessance of agony, Jesus affixed to the crucifix. Judged by the nation he had chosen and elevated above all others. “Father, forgive them for they know not what they do.”

Our marching orders aren’t complicated, are they?

“Love as I have loved you.”

And our best teacher?

She whom we venerated on Thursday’s Solemnity of the Assumption of Mary. She who watched silently while the Creator of the Universe was mocked, judged, tortured, and crucified. Her heart, entire being, shredding but her will never deviating from that of the Triune God’s.

What a moment! Jesus was gasping; His eyes were veiled by agony, He was covered in the hatred of all the wicked, but He was spreading love. Satan, the spirit of hatred, was crushed. Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing; Satan heard it, and instantly saw an open gap in the flood of hatred, which he had poured onto the earth. He was defeated by merciful love, and then saw one of the condemned thieves escape, on whom he had already set his hooked claws. He trembled at that word of love: Remember me, trembled at hearing: Today you will be with me in Paradise. So, Paradise, which he believed he had closed forever to humanity, was opening up. He saw at the foot of the cross the Mother of his defeat: it was the Immaculate One, who had never been under his divine dominion, and it was the final blow. He was enraged to hear her called the Universal Mother: Mary was the Queen of the world, shining like a bright star, was a light of love, because like a shining mirror of justice, she gathered all the rays of the mercy of the Divine Victim…

The world will not find peace and will not see the full triumph of Jesus without first seeing the triumph and reign of Mary. The triumph of Jesus will be like a renewal and a rebirth of His redemptive work, and since He began it precisely through Mary, He will renew it through Mary. It is a historically established fact that the greatest saints, in every era of the Church, have always been the greatest devotees of Mary; this is a most certain sign that such devotion, far from distancing us from God or the Redeemer, brings us closer to the very sources of sanctity.

Let us imitate Saint John, who, having received Mary as Mother, accepted her into his own. Let us make her dwell in our soul, declare her Queen of our activities, consecrate our life to her so that she may renew and restore it to the Lord. Let us pass everything through her hands, so that everything may be consecrated and blessed by her, and we, under her maternal mantle, may present ourselves with greater confidence to the throne and tribunal of Jesus Christ.”

Jesus Entrusts Mary to John and All Humanity