Today’s political reporters often ask candidates trick questions that are designed to trap them into saying something controversial or unpopular.  The Pharisees did the same thing to Jesus, but he was pretty adept at out-tricking them …

Trick Questions

Matthew 22:15-22; Psalm 100 

They were out to trick him. It was as simple and timeless as that. They wanted to ask him a question that would incriminate him no matter how he answered it. It was the first century equivalent to “When did you stop beating your wife?”

They hoped that offering some compliments before the question would put him off guard. “We know you are sincere …” they said … even though they, themselves, were not the least bit sincere.

Jesus wasn’t fooled by any of it.

He knew false praise when he heard it, and he knew a trick question when he heard it. But he was not above a little trickery of his own: “Show me the coin used for the tax,” he said – and they gave him a denarius.

Well, a denarius was a Roman coin. It was curious that a Pharisee would hand him a Roman coin when they were in the temple. The temple had its own coins, after all – that’s why there were money changers in the courtyard (but that’s a story for another day).

So Jesus speaks a classic “one liner:” “Give therefore to the emperor the things that are the emperor’s and to God the things that are God’s.” [Matthew 22:21] It is clever in every way, and it pretty much silences the Pharisees for a while.

This was by no means the only trick question that Jesus was asked. There was the long, complicated one about a woman who had been married to seven brothers in life; the question was about which one would be her husband in heaven. He was asked whether the baptism of John the Baptist was of earth or of heaven. He was, of course, at the end, asked whether he was the King of the Jews.

The striking thing about Jesus is that he never fell for any of these questions. Sometimes (like the matter of the coin and the emperor) he was clever; sometimes (like the matter of marriages in heaven) he was other-worldly; sometimes (like the baptism query) he was wily; and sometimes (like the question from Pilate) he was just silent.

It seems to me that we get asked trick questions fairly often. In the early years of my ministry, I was often asked whether or not I was a “feminist.” I learned very quickly not to answer that question – at least not without first learning what the questioner meant by “feminist.” Another personal favorite of mine is being asked (usually by someone who doesn’t know anything about my personal life) whether I approve of the “gay lifestyle.” It is all I can do sometimes not to describe my life: you know, walk the dog, do the laundry, go to work, make quilts. Ah yes, I think I do approve of that lifestyle.

I lament the fact that the political arena seems to be filled these days with interviewers who try to ask trick questions. In some sense it is not the fault of the interviewers themselves. The news media that they work for thrive on controversy, and one of the easiest ways to encourage controversy is by helping people to say things that others will disagree with.

What surprises me is that so few public figures do what Jesus did and name the questions as being tricks. Wouldn’t you love to hear a political candidate say, “That question does not allow me to speak to the issue in a thoughtful and balanced way, and until you ask questions that do, I will not answer.”

But if we need to be careful about the trick questions that we are asked, we must also be careful about the ones we pose ourselves. Some of them are simply not questions at all. When we lament, “Why did this happen to me?” we are not so much making an inquiry about the causal process of the event as we are crying out about the misery we are feeling. When we say, “How long, O Lord, how long?” we are not so much asking for a timetable as we are expressing our discouragement and impatience. When we shout at God, “How could you?”, we are not so much asking a theological question as we are displaying our suffering. In those moments, I remember the song that Bob and Ann Gregory-Bjorklund wrote for the church musical a couple of years ago: “Sometimes ‘why’ doesn’t really have an answer.”

One final kind of trick question: the false dichotomy. Again, there are lots of examples in the political news these days. “Are you patriotic or opposed to the war in Iraq?” These are not opposites; it is very possible to answer “yes” to both questions (or I suppose, “no” to both). Or “Are you a Christian or do you believe in Evolution?” Again the answer can be “yes” – “yes” to both.

We pride ourselves as a church in welcoming questions, doubts, and skepticism. That’s central to both our theology – our beliefs about God – and our ecclesiology – our beliefs about the church. We believe that God is not threatened by our curiosity, our reflection, or our exploring. And we believe that the church is the safe and appropriate place for those questions and doubts to be raised, discussed, and debated.

The danger in those convictions is that we will – perhaps inadvertently – pose trick questions. Sometimes we just want to expose other people’s religious beliefs as foolish, inconsistent, or naïve – and when we try to do that we often become the Pharisees and ask trick questions. Sometimes we view two positions as being opposite when in someone else’s eyes they are not – so our question turns out to be tricky. Sometimes we say that we welcome a variety of beliefs and practices – but discover that there are some beliefs and practices that are stretch our radical hospitality farther than our consciences will allow; those we often cover up with trick questions.

Because it is the weekend of the Independence Day holiday, it is tempting to single out the uses of trick questions in public life and especially in politics. They appear frequently and cause no small amount of confusion and controversy. Before we succumb to that temptation, though, it is well for us to be sure that we are not asking them, too.

July 6, 2008

Prayer for July 6, 2008 (At Valley Grove Church)

Almighty and everlasting God, creator of all things seen and unseen, hear now our silent prayers, as we open our hearts to you in the sacred quietness.

God of faith and hope, we bring before you our prayers for those we have named this morning – we especially remember … Bring to each of them the gifts of mercy and grace that are most needed, according to your wisdom and love.

God of all the earth, we offer our prayers this morning especially for the prairies that were home to our ancestors, and which are preserved here for generations to come.

We thank you first for the beauty of the prairies, and for the variety of plants and animals that have made them their home. Open our eyes to see this variety, and our minds to understand the complexity and elegance of the ecosystem that is all around us. Keep us mindful of the sacred connections among all these living things, including ourselves.

We thank you, too, for the fertility and lushness of the prairie, and for the ways that humans have used that fecundity to feed their neighbors and, indeed, the whole world. We are grateful, too, for the settlers and families who have made their homes here, and for their vocations of farming, dairying, herding, and orchard keeping.

Still, Creator god, we must confess that we have not always protected and cared for our land, and especially for our prairies. We have considered human needs, but neglected to consider the needs of the fauna and flora that were here before we arrived. So we pray that we will be good stewards of the gift of the land, so that it will be a blessing to our children and our grandchildren, and their grandchildren.

And we confess, Lord, that we have not always protected and cared for our neighbors who work the land. We have let our desire for convenience and economy be the excuse for low wages and poor conditions for farm workers, and for complicated regulations and financial uncertainly for farm owners. Forgive our selfishness, we pray, and nudge us into awareness of all the costs of what we eat, including the ones we do not pay.

God of all creation, let our love for these prairies remind us of the love of all people for the land that nourishes and nurtures them. Renew our resolve to honor and respect all of your creation: the mountains and mesas, the coastlands and deserts, the marshes and lakesides.

All this we pray in the name of the one who lived among us on this earth, and lives among us still as our Risen Savior, even Jesus the Christ, and we pray together now in the words that he taught us ….