Wednesday, October 12, 2011

It's All Greek to Me

The priest I worked with in my field education placement had been in the business a long time. He was raised a Roman Catholic and entered a pre-seminary high school at the age of fourteen. From then on his life was regulated by the Church. When I asked Bill how he came to the Episcopal Church, he raised his left hand and showed me his wedding ring. Clear enough!

I valued Bill’s experience. Once when we were talking about sermon preparation, I told him how I like to translate the Gospel, at least, from the original Greek. Smiling, he assured me that once he left seminary he had found no use for Greek or Hebrew. I noted his opinion but it didn’t change my habits. Whenever I did find occasion to mention Greek in a sermon after that, I’d look over at Bill and he would have this little smile on his face.

This week Bill would really be smiling. It was the Greek Gospel text rather than any translation that started me thinking. There are several nuances that are lost in English, in part because of idioms that require rephrasing to make them intelligible.

Jesus, having told a series of parables that really honked off the religious establishment, finds that those leaders are retaliating. They send a group to trap him in words – representatives of the religious right and those who favor the status quo (sound familiar?). The Pharisees want every Jewish law followed to the letter, and the Herodians want Caesar in control so that they can keep their cushy jobs.

They come to Jesus with simpering smiles and false praise. They try to set him up with flattery, not realizing that they are actually speaking the truth. “Teacher,” they say, “we know that you are truthful and teach the way of God in truth, and show deference to no one; for you do not regard people with partiality.” At least that’s what it says in English. The Greek is literally, “for you do not look into the face of people.”

Having softened him up, they spring the trick question. “Tell us, then, how it seems to you. Is it permitted to pay tax to Caesar, or not?” The questioners think this puts Jesus in a box. If he says yes, all of the zealous Jewish Rome-haters will desert him. If he says no, they can run him in on a charge of sedition.

But Jesus, being Jesus, sees right through them. “Why do you test me, you hypocrites?” he says. “Show me the coin of the tax.” So they produce a silver denarius. “Whose is this image and inscription?” he asks. Well, Caesar’s, duh! So he says to them, “Then give back the things of Caesar to Caesar and the things of God to God.” Astonished at his answer, they slink away, trying to figure out how he slipped out of their noose.

The whole story is very visual, but the only word in English that hints at it is “image.” Even that one word should resonate, however, reminding us that we are made in the image of God. If the denarius goes to Caesar because his image is on it, God’s claim on us is even greater, because all that we are and have comes from God.

“Image” is eikon in Greek. Icons themselves are windows to God – or rather, windows from God to us, through which God sees us, and we see God. If we are made in the image of God, then we, too, become icons through which other people can see the love of God in Jesus Christ.

But what about this business that Jesus doesn’t look into the face of people? It’s not that Jesus is shifty-eyed. Rather, he isn’t checking people’s reactions to see whether or not they approve what he says. He’s not a political poll-watcher. Nor does he tailor his speech based on the kind of reaction he’s getting. I don’t know about you, but I find myself doing that a lot. If I see someone’s blood pressure starting to rise because of my words, I’ll modify what I say to prevent an explosion. Jesus, like the prophets, lets the Word of God fly, unconcerned who takes offense.

Jesus calls his questioners “hypocrites.” That itself is a Greek word, originally meaning actors on a stage. Given that acting involves deception, pretending to be someone else, it fits Jesus’ use very well. And if you consider that actors wore masks in classical Greek drama, we are back to the whole question of true image.

Our true likeness is found in God. Often we put on masks out of fear or deception, hiding that likeness. We study the faces of others to see how they react to us, to see if our deception is working, to peer through their masks. “Hypocrites!” Jesus would say. Put off your mask and reveal your true image, the image of God. Be transparent. Let the love of God shine through you, and look for the face of Christ in everyone you meet.

And Bill, my priest friend, still smiles, now not at the Greek, but at the thought of seeking Christ in everyone he meets. He knows his own faults and the temptation to put on masks. Yet he also knows that there is nothing greater than to seek the love of God revealed to us in Jesus Christ.

[Pentecost18: Matthew 22:15-22.]

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