October’s readings press disciples toward undivided allegiance: a sky still preaching humility despite our neglect, a welcome that demands real change, a coin that exposes divided loyalties, and a love commanded not as rule but as the shape of an entire life.
4 October – Pentecost 19
Exodus 20:1-4, 7-9, 12-20; Psalm 19; Philippians 3:4b-14; Matthew 21:33-46
There’s something about the sky that transports us somewhere transcendent. Whether it’s a clear blue expanse, a green-tinged sign of impending deluge, a masterpiece made of cirrus and cumulus, an achingly beautiful dawn sea of orange and pink, or the wonder of gazing at thousands of stars knowing there are billions more our naked eyes cannot perceive.
Psalm 19 tells us that “the heavens declare the glory of God.” Though the heavens have no speech, their voice goes out to all the world (19:2–4).
Perhaps today that voice contains anguish. Greenhouse gases, air pollution, acid rain, and artificial light—we’ve tainted the sky, that great sign of the glory of God, like mindless graffiti on a prized artwork.
And yet, the sky is a constant billboard counselling us in humility. It reminds us to see ourselves as part of an unimaginably expansive creation, the work of a Creator who fashions quarks and blackholes from nothing. It calls us to contemplate the God of the heavens, who calls us to be reconciled and united to Godself, each other, and all creation.
11 October – Pentecost 20
Exodus 32:1-14; Psalm 106:1-6, 19-23; Philippians 4:1-9; Matthew 22:1-14
Matthew 22:1–14 is a challenging passage. A king gives a wedding banquet for his son but those invited refuse to come. Many abuse and kill the slaves sent to bring them. The king destroys the murderers and their city.
The slaves are then told to invite everyone they find in the streets. The wedding hall is filled. But the king notices a man dressed inappropriately. He’s bound hand and foot and cast into the outer darkness where there’s “weeping and gnashing of teeth.”
As I said, challenging. Here Jesus’ inclusivity seems to give way to a fire-and-brimstone kind of exclusion.
However we understand “outer darkness”—literally or metaphorically; as signalling eternal damnation, a temporary purification, or something else—we should contemplate Jesus’ warning. This parable suggests inclusion isn’t enough. Jesus doesn’t merely include people without requiring a change in them. Rather, Jesus welcomes people. And that welcome requires repentance, a change of mind and life. Coming into the wedding banquet demands transformation—a transformation that’s good news since it makes us more like Christ.
18 October – Pentecost 21
Exodus 33:12-23; Psalm 99; 1 Thessalonians 1:1-10; Matthew 22:15-22
In Matthew 22:15–22, the Pharisees attempt to entrap Jesus, asking whether it’s lawful to pay taxes to Caesar.
Taxation was no minor matter. Taxes were exacted to line elite pockets. They were high, crushing the poor and, unlike in Australia, not used to administer social services. Refusal to pay Roman taxes was viewed as rebellion. Sometimes taxation sparked peasant uprisings.
If Jesus answered that paying taxes was lawful, he’d be accused of colluding with Rome and sanctioning exploitation. If he said it wasn’t lawful, he’d be accused of rebellion against Rome, an executable offence.
Jesus refuses to answer. Asking instead to be shown a coin, he shows that his opponents are carrying Caesar’s image with them. That is, they’re carrying an idol (Exodus 20:4). It’s an astute response.
Jesus goes on: “Give therefore to Caesar the things that are Caesar’s and to God the things that are God’s.” What belongs to Caesar, exactly? The coin? Perhaps; his face is on it, after all.
But doesn’t Psalm 24:1 say that “The earth is the Lord’s and all that is in it”? If everything belongs to God, then what’s left for Caesar? Certainly not the loyalty of human beings…
25 October – Pentecost 22
Deuteronomy 34:1-12; Psalm 90:1-6, 13-17; 1 Thessalonians 2:1-8; Matthew 22:34-46
The Law of Moses contains 613 commandments. Part of interpreting the Law would have been to judge the relative importance of different legal prescriptions. One can’t treat all commandments equally, after all. It was natural, then, to ask “Which commandment is the greatest?”
This was a lively debate in Jesus’ time. In Matthew 22:34–46, it arises as a test orchestrated by the Pharisees.
Jesus’ two-fold answer reverberates through history: love the Lord your God with all your heart, soul, and mind, and love your neighbour as yourself (Matthew 22:37–39).
It seems so simple. But this is no mere rule, a straightforward “do this” or “don’t do that.” Rather, it’s a virtue, a way of life, not just something to obey. It’s meant to characterise one’s entire existence, not merely particular moments in time. All things, whether they relate to God or neighbour, are meant to be characterised by love.
Crucially, this love is demonstrated to us in a specific way, namely that of the saviour of the world crucified on a Roman cross.
These Lectionary Reflections were prepared by Dr. Matthew Anslow
