October 19--In God We Trust

Matthew 22:15-22

John Boehner spoke the fundamental truth in his floor speech just before the passage of the $700 billion rescue/bailout legislation a couple of weeks ago, regardless of how we feel about his politics. The House Republican minority whip reminded Congressional leaders that the motto on our money is “In God We Trust.” And he called upon God to help us through this crisis, concluding that God’s help was the only thing that would ultimately suffice.

He’s right. Separation of church and state, respect for religious pluralism, and implementation of just economic policies aside, John Boehner is right. If our lectionary study these past several weeks has taught us anything it is that God alone is worthy of our trust in the midst of economic uncertainty; God alone is our salvation; God alone has abundance to share . . . and expects us to share it in return.

Even The Boston Globe noticed that the lectionary texts over the past few weeks have focused on “God’s economy,” just at the time the rest of us have focused on the all-too turbulent machinations of our own global economy. “As Congress debated and President Bush signed a bailout for Wall Street,” the Globe reported on Saturday, October 11, “clergy have been pondering from the pulpit the pros and cons of capitalism, their reactions ranging from condemnation of financiers to soothing spiritual succor for average folks suffering financial setbacks” (“Subprime Thoughts in Sublime Settings,” B2).

God does have something to teach us about faithful economics, I would argue, just at the time we are all getting a crash course on commercial paper and market liquidity. God does have something to teach us about trusting God’s abundance and receiving it with gratitude . . . and then responding to that abundance with faithful stewardship of all we have been given.

In God’s economy, we have learned these past many weeks, those who govern can and will forgive massive debts . . . but they then expect such forgiveness to be extended to others (Mt 18, 09/14). In God’s economy, we have learned, every worker can and will receive a living wage, regardless of that worker’s perceived productivity (Mt 20, 09/21). In God’s economy, we have learned, a wandering tribe of outcasts escaping slavery can and will receive bread and meat and water that will only come when it is needed . . . but it cannot ever be hoarded (Ex 17, 09/28). In God’s economy, we have learned, our communal lives are ordered by a complete and utter devotion to a dynamic and mysterious “ground of being,” which limits the consequences of our greed and envy (Ex 20, 10/05). In God’s economy—and in our own economy—we have learned, the god of gold will never save us, but God’s steadfast love will endure forever (Ex 32, 10/12).

What more do we have to learn, as we approach another Sunday, as we approach another week of market turmoil, as we approach another month of recession and job loss and political uncertainty? What more do we have to learn, as we compare our economy to God’s economy and find ours wanting?

“Is it right to pay taxes to Caesar?” Matthew’s type-cast Pharisees and Herodians ask of Jesus in our gospel text for the week. “We know you are an honest man and teach the truth of God’s way.”

They are not asking an honest question, of course. They are trying to trap him. The tax is a hated instrument of Roman power and is—debatably—idolatrous. It is also the law. If Jesus answers in the affirmative, he is discredited among his most avid followers. If he answers in the negative, he is handed over to Roman authorities. Can Jesus give an honest answer?

“Give to Caesar the things that are Caesar’s,” Jesus says. “And give to God the things that are God’s.”

This ends the conversation. But it is only just beginning. Because everything, of course, belongs to God.

So give to Wall Street the things that are Wall Street’s, Jesus might be saying to us today. And give to God the things that are God’s. Our economy is not God’s economy, he might declare to us boldly. But here is how we can put into practice what we have learned:

--We can plead with our rulers to forgive massive debts—and expect such forgiveness to be extended to all. We can plead with our creditors for mercy—and we can extend that mercy to those who owe us (Mt 18, 09/14);

--We can strengthen our social safety net to make sure everyone has access to the basic necessities of life, knowing that we are also included in that safety net (Mt 20, 09/21);

--We can accept with gratitude God’s generous provision for our survival, even if it pales in comparison with the luxury to which we have grown accustomed (Ex 17, 09/28);

--We can place our primary trust in the God who is dynamic and indefinable, not confined to our fears, not pinned down by our panic—and allow that trust to order the ethical relations of our common life (Ex 20; 10/05);

--We can repent of our worship of the god of gold and turn once more to the God who remains with us always, who gives us opportunity in the midst of chaos, who will not abandon us to the evil we create (Ex 32; 10/12).

Give to God the things that are God’s, Jesus says to us over and over. God has already given everything to you. You can trust in that. You can depend on that. And you can share that with everyone you meet.

May we who would be faithful have the courage to trust what we have learned and to share these lessons broadly. Now is the time.

Gusti Linnea Newquist


(additional lectionary texts for this week: Exodus 33:12-23; Psalm 99; 1 Thessalonians 1:1-10)

October 5--No Other Gods

Lectionary focus for this week:

Exodus 20:1-4, 7-9, 12-20

(Additional texts: Psalm 19, Philippians 3:4b-14, Matthew 21:33-46)

“I am the LORD your God, who brought you out of the land of Egypt, out of the house of slavery; you shall have no other gods before me” (Exodus 20:2).


Let’s get real. We just can’t seem to get it right, can we?

The very first of the Ten Commandments, the very first of the many commandments throughout the Book of Exodus, the very first commitment of any believer in the biblical tradition: put absolutely nothing in a higher place than God.

We just can’t seem to get it right, can we?

Of course, for the ancient Israelites not getting it right meant worshipping other tribal gods in the midst of a polytheist culture. But it also meant ignoring the widow and the orphan. It meant cheating in the marketplace and seeking wealth for some but not for all. It meant forgetting their desperate origins and the god who had led them out of slavery and into freedom. It meant replacing that god with all that glittered and thrilled but that could not ever finally save them.

Not so terribly different than we are, are they? Here we are so many thousands of years later, still worshipping the stock market or a political party or job security or physical beauty. Still holding on to anything that we can shore up to make our lives stable and to keep uncertainty at bay. Still doing all of this at the expense of the most vulnerable, the most uncertain, the most unstable. Still doing all of this at the expense of God.

The past several weeks have been nothing if not a stark condemnation of our national failing of the first commandment, regardless of our religious tradition or lack thereof. Even those of us who call ourselves “progressive” Christians, even those of us who have advocated all along for economic justice, even those of us who condemn “socialism for the rich and capitalism for the poor” . . . we still, if we are honest, worship the god of security and control. We, too, want stability and prosperity we can depend on, even if we would be sure to declare such security as the equal opportunity for all. We still want our retirement plans and our health care and our out-of-season fruits and vegetables from the local grocer. What would happen if we really—and I mean really –put absolutely nothing higher than God?


This may sound overly pedantic, but this economic crisis we find ourselves in—and my personal reaction to it (panic)—has actually led me to reflect linguistically on the very name of God used by the ancient Israelites as it is recorded in the First Commandment. This God we are to place before all other gods is named with four Hebrew letters: YHWH.

YHWH is translated as LORD in most modern texts, but in its Hebrew form, YHWH is the unpronounceable, the mysterious, the holy. Because these letters are related to the Hebrew verb “to be,” modern theologians have declared YHWH as the “ground of our being” or as “the God who is.” In this interpretation, the God we are to worship before all other gods is ultimately indefinable--a dynamic mystery who will be whatever it will be, regardless of our human inability to make sense of it.


This is not good news in the midst of an economic crisis! The God we are to put before all other gods, the God to whom we make our highest commitment, the God whom we are to love with all our heart, soul, mind, and strength is an indefinable, dynamic mystery that we are not allowed to make any sense of? No wonder we just can’t seem to get it right!

At least the stock market has a number I can watch go up and down, at least a political party has a platform I can read and debate, at least the job has a paycheck I can deposit, at least the drugstore has cosmetics I can lather all over my face. These things make sense. They make me feel secure. A mysterious God with an unpronounceable name who refuses to be defined? Well, we’ve got more than enough uncertainty in our lives already, thank you very much. Why make it our highest priority!


But herein lies the paradox, at least in my view. It is this indefinable, dynamic, eternal existence that will in fact last forever. It is, in the end, the only thing that will last forever.

It is our financial markets and political parties and jobs and bodies that ultimately will fade, no matter how hard we try to fix them.

When we can put that truth before all others, when we can put that God before all others, when we can recognize that our security is fleeting and our control is ephemeral, only then can the ethics of our relationships with one another and ourselves—including our efforts at economic justice—fall faithfully into place.

And that is what the Ten Commandments are all about. Trusting only in this indefinable, dynamic, eternal existence so that we can stop manipulating the sky and the water and the earth into our own image and instead exercise faithful stewardship as caretakers of God’s abundance (Ex 20:4, modern interpretation). Trusting in this indefinable, dynamic and eternal existence so that we can practice a life-giving balance of work and rest, rather than panicking over what remains to be done or slipping into the sloth of believing our labor doesn’t matter (Ex 20:8-11). Trusting in this indefinable, dynamic and eternal existence so that we can honor the gift of human companions and seek their good, rather than treat them with contempt (Ex 20:12-17). Trusting in this indefinable, dynamic and eternal existence so that we can repent of ever misusing its name and pray for the grace to continue in trust (Ex 20:7).


It is so very hard to trust, so very hard to accept that the uncertainty we fear is, in fact, the divine stability. That the mystery we avoid is, in fact, divine truth. That the existence we worship is intangible, but the present reality is fleeting.

It is, however, the deepest spiritual truth . . . and one that we can also find comforting in these difficult times. This crisis, too, will not last forever. This moment, too, is not eternal. God is dynamic and indefinable, not confined to our fears, not pinned down by our panic. God can make all things new, and God is doing so in this very moment. God is still with us, being who God is, leading us from slavery to freedom, challenging us to live faithfully with one another. We can still turn from the false gods of security and power. We can still turn to the God of life. May this be our prayer in the days and weeks ahead. Amen.

Gusti Newquist