The Rev. Dr. Kenneth H. Saunders III
Greeneville, TN
The 21st Sunday after Pentecost (Proper 24A)
October 18, 2026
Isaiah 45:1-7
Psalm 96:1-9, (10-13)
1 Thessalonians 1:1-10
Matthew 22:15-22
It’s no secret that money matters in this world. We use money to pay our bills, put food on our tables, keep a roof over our heads... money helps us provide for our families. Money can create opportunities, offer security, and open doors that might otherwise remain closed. And when money is combined with position and influence, it can become a source of power. As the saying goes… and I’m not entirely sure whether it belongs to Voltaire or Spider-Man… “With great power comes great responsibility.”
But somewhere along the way, money became more than just a means of exchange. It became a measuring stick. We use it to measure success, status, and unfortunately sometimes even a person's worth. We look at the size of someone's house, the car they drive, the vacations they take, and the things they can afford as if they were indicators of their worth as individuals.
Advertisements promise us that the next purchase, the next upgrade, or the next big thing will somehow make our lives just a little bit better. And sometimes it makes us look at what other people have and wonder why we’re falling behind.
Those who don’t have enough worry about making ends meet. Those who have enough worry about losing it. And those who have plenty can still find themselves wanting more. There’s always another bill to pay, another expense we didn’t anticipate, or another thing we’ve convinced ourselves we need.
Jesus understood something about the human heart when he said, “For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.” We tend to spend our money on the things we value, the things that matter to us, the things we need… and, of course, the things we think we need!
I remember helping lead a youth retreat some years ago. One of the activities involved posters with photographs of families from different parts of the world. They were all standing in front of their homes with all their possessions gathered around them. Some families lived in places where resources were pretty scarce. Their possessions were simple: a few cooking pots, some bowls, a bedroll, perhaps a couple of goats. Everything they owned could be seen in the small space in front of their home.
Then there was a photo of an American family. They had so much STUFF spread across the yard that you could hardly see the family! It was quite a contrast. And it left me wondering… How much is enough? Now, there’s nothing wrong with having possessions. There’s nothing wrong with wanting a comfortable home, providing for your family, saving for retirement, or enjoying the fruits of your labor.
The question isn’t whether we have things. The question is whether our things have begun to determine the kind of lives we live. Are we using what we have to serve the life God has given us? Or have we begun to organize our lives around protecting, acquiring, and accumulating more stuff? That’s not just a question about money. It’s a question about what we value, what we trust, and where we place our hearts.
We see the consequences of those questions all around us. Families struggle with the cost of groceries, housing, health care, and education. Communities are wrestling with poverty, homelessness, and food insecurity. Political arguments about taxes, government spending, and public resources can become so heated that we forget there are human beings on the other side of the argument.
Money itself isn’t evil. But our relationship with money can become a spiritual problem when we trust it more than we trust God. It’s an issue when we value possessions more than people, or become so concerned with protecting what we have that we forget to care for our neighbors.
Perhaps that’s one reason Scripture has so much to say about money and possessions and how we use money and possessions... Much more than any other subject that folks like to argue about. Jesus returns to the subject of money again and again because he knows that money has a way of getting into our hearts.
And that brings us to this morning’s Gospel. Jesus is confronted by two groups… the Pharisees and the Herodians. Now, these are two groups who didn’t ordinarily see eye to eye. The Pharisees were deeply committed to the law of Moses and traditions. Many opposed the Roman occupation and the influence of pagan rule. The Herodians, on the other hand, supported the political establishment associated with Herod, who ruled under Roman authority.
The two groups had different religious and political priorities. But on this occasion, they found something they could agree on… they wanted to get Jesus into trouble. So they approached him with a little flattery. They praised his honesty, his faithfulness, and the fact that he didn’t show any partiality. So, they sprang their trap.
“Tell us, then, what you think (they say). Is it lawful to pay taxes to the emperor, or not?” They believed they had Jesus cornered. If Jesus said, “Yes, pay the tax,” he risked alienating people who resented Roman occupation and the financial burden it placed on the people. If he said, “No, don’t pay the tax,” he could be accused of opposing Roman authority. Either answer could be used against him.
It’s a little like some of the questions we encounter in our own public and political conversations. Sometimes a question is asked because someone genuinely wants to understand the other person's perspective. Other times, a question is asked simply to put someone in a corner, where the goal isn’t understanding; it’s winning. But Jesus refuses to play their game.
He asks them to show him the coin used to pay the tax. They bring him a denarius, a silver Roman coin commonly associated with a day's wages. Jesus asks, “Whose head is this, and whose title?” “The emperor’s,” they answer. And Jesus responds with those familiar words, “Give therefore to the emperor the things that are the emperor’s, and to God the things that are God’s.”
Over the centuries, people have misunderstood this passage to be just a simple lesson about paying taxes and obeying the government. Civic responsibility certainly matters, but Jesus is doing something more profound here than just offering a lesson in tax policy.
Look again at the coin. Whose image is stamped on it? Caesar’s. And the inscription proclaims the emperor’s authority. In the Roman world, imperial imagery often reflected claims about the emperor’s divine status. In this case, the coin was inscribed with “Tiberius Caesar Divi Augusti Filius Augustus.” Translation… "Tiberius Caesar, Son of the Divine Augustus"
Now, for someone who follows the God of Israel, this is a big problem… Caesar may claim authority over the empire. He may demand taxes. He may stamp his image on coins. But Caesar is not divine… Caesar is not God. So Jesus says, in effect, let Caesar have his coin. But Jesus doesn’t stop there.
He adds… “And give to God the things that are God’s.” And that’s where it gets personal. Because if we’re going to talk about images, we need to remember another image. We need to remember the image we hear about in the very first chapter of Genesis.
We are created in the image of God. Not just some of us. Not just the people who agree with us politically, or share our opinions, belong to our church, or see the world the way we do. Every human being bears the image of God. The neighbor we love and the neighbor who frustrates us. The person who votes differently from us. The stranger coming into this land looking for safety or opportunity. The person we see sleeping outside as we return to the comfort of our homes. Every one of them bears God’s image.
And so the question Jesus places before us isn’t simply, “What do we owe Caesar?” The question Jesus is asking is, “What do we owe God?” Or perhaps we could clarify it a bit, “What does it mean to belong to God?”
Because we can spend a lifetime chasing the things that the world tells us are important. We can work hard to build a good life, provide for our families, seek recognition, and find security. And there is nothing wrong with working hard or caring for the people we love. But none of those things can answer the deepest question of who we are.
We belong to God. And God doesn’t trade in Caesar’s currency.
Now, you may not hear many preachers say this, especially during stewardship season. And I apologize in advance to the treasurer and vestry! But here it is… God doesn’t need your money. God doesn’t need your checkbook or another line item in the parish budget. The Creator of heaven and earth isn’t sitting in heaven worrying about how to make payroll.
But what God does want is you. God wants your heart, your love, your attention, your gratitude, your worship, and your life. God wants us to live with open hearts and generous spirits, recognizing that everything we have and everything we are... are gifts from God. And yes, that includes our money.
Our generosity matters. The way we use our resources matters. The ministries we support, the neighbors we care for, and the community we help build... they all matter. But stewardship is about more than writing a check or making a pledge. It is about how we use our time, how we share our gifts, how we care for and make room for one another, and how we live as people who belong to God.
It is about what we do with all that has been entrusted to us. Our time. Our talents. Our possessions. Our influence. Our relationships. It is about living in such a way that the world sees something different in us… Not the relentless pursuit of more stuff, but the generosity of God's abundance.
Because if we truly believe that every human being bears the image of God, then our faith must shape and inform how we treat one another. We cannot claim to give God what belongs to God while withholding compassion from our neighbors. We cannot worship the God of abundance while living as though there will never be enough to share. And we cannot say that we belong to God while allowing money, possessions, political loyalties, or the need to be right to claim our ultimate allegiance.
So perhaps this Gospel lesson invites us to ask ourselves a few questions. What do we value? Where do we place our trust? What has a claim on our hearts? Are we using what we have to build up our neighbors and our community, or are we simply trying to accumulate enough to feel secure?
And when people meet us, in our homes, in our workplaces, in our community, and in our church… do they see the image of Caesar, with its promises of power and status? Or do they catch a glimpse of the image of God?
We live in Caesar’s world. We have bills to pay, we have responsibilities to fulfill, and decisions to make about the resources entrusted to us. But we belong to God. And that means we are called to live by a different measuring tool. Not by how much we accumulate, but by how generously we give. Not by how much influence we possess, but by how faithfully we use it. Not by how successfully we protect our own interests, but by how lovingly we care for one another.
So when Jesus says, “Give to God the things that are God’s,” the invitation isn't simply to give something to God. The invitation is to remember that our lives already belong to God. All that we are. All that we have. All the time. Every breath, every gift, every opportunity to love and serve.
And every day, we have the opportunity to offer those gifts back to God, not out of fear or obligation, but out of gratitude for the life and love we have already received.
May we have the grace to loosen our grip on the things that can't ultimately save us… the wisdom to recognize the image of God in every person we meet, and the courage to live generously in a world that so often tells us to hold on tightly.
For the truth is, we don’t have to earn our worth. We don’t have to buy our place in God’s heart. We don’t have to accumulate enough to become somebody. We are already beloved. We already bear God’s image. And we already belong to God.
So let us give to God what is God’s; not just our money, not just our Sunday mornings, but our whole selves. All that we are. All that we have. All the time.
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