Don’t, Jesus counsels, give “holy things” to the nations, to Rome and its imperial promises of power and prestige. They will trample the holy things and then turn around and rip you to shreds. Fair enough, empires tend to do that, but what are the “holy things” Jesus’ listeners are to withhold?
No reflection available for this day.
If I hadn’t asked, I wouldn’t have gotten the help. I asked, and I received. This is good, right? But life certainly doesn’t always work this easily.
I felt entitled to give him advice. But was I? Most of my adult life I have thought of myself as non-judgmental. When others speak negatively about a person, I often imagine good reasons why he or she might be that way and congratulate myself.
I began to view this passage as a weapon to condemn me for my mental health struggles. When anxiety attacked, I would simultaneously experience world-crumbling terror and soul-crushing guilt. An anxiety attack meant I didn’t have faith. It meant I let God down.
I admit that this passage is a tough one for me. No, I have never been homeless and have never gone without food or clothes, but I do know what it is like to worry about having enough money for basic needs. I was born in the Depression.