The Atocha | The Rev. Heidi Thorsen | October 22, 2023
Between the words that I speak and the words that are heard, may God’s spirit be present. Amen.
On September 4, 1622, a fleet of twenty eight ships carrying Spanish treasure– treasure that had been looted from Colombia, Venezuela, and all over South America– set sail from a port in Havana, Cuba. Imagine these stout wooden ships, laden with gold and emeralds, pearls and canons. Imagine the people on these ships: brave people who called themselves explorers; other brave people who had been enslaved by the brutality and ignorance of these same explorers. On September 4, 1622 this fleet of twenty eight ships set sail from Havana– only to be overtaken by a hurricane over the next few days. By the morning of September 6, eight ships had sunk forever into waters of the Gulf of Mexico, their treasures scattered for miles along the Florida Keys. Take a moment to think about that great loss of lives. And take another moment to think about other lives that were lost, as the Spaniards and those forces to work for them tried to reclaim the sunken treasure through the search and rescue efforts.
A good deal of the treasure was recovered– surprisingly so. I had no idea, until learning of this story, that people were exploring the deep in brass diving bells as early as the 17th century (as perilous as that journey could be). Nevertheless, the wreckage of one ship was too deep to be found, the Nuestra Señora de Atocha. The Atocha’s treasure remained buried at the bottom of the sea, scattered and sunk even deeper by the tides.
Our story picks up about three hundred and fifty years later. A group of American treasure hunters, led by Mel Fisher and incorporated under the name Treasure Salvors began their search for the Nuestra Señora de Atocha in 1969. They found a few bread crumbs along the way: evidence for the wreckage of a sister ship, the Santa Margarita; silver bars inscribed that seemed to come from the Atocha. On July 20, 1985, Mel Fisher and his crew finally found the main wreck of the ship itself, unearthing silver bullion, ingots, and coins estimated at a value of around $400 million US dollars– the most valuable known shipwreck in the world.
Shortly after the discovery, the State of Florida tried to lay claim to a fraction of the treasure that had been found. It was, the state argued, within state territory. The two parties entered a legal dispute that was ultimately settled in 1982 by the US Supreme Court, which ruled that the treasure was the rightful property of Mel Fisher and company. In other words: finders, keepers.
The question at the heart of that lawsuit is, in a way, similar to the question that comes up in our Gospel passage for today. The Pharisees ask Jesus whether it is lawful to pay taxes to the emperor— keeping in mind that Rome was the occupying power in lands throughout the Middle East. Jesus, in typical fashion, does not answer the question directly. Instead he takes a Roman coin and asks the Pharisees whose face it is they see. The emperor’s, they say. Jesus responds: “Give therefore to the emperor the things that are the emperor’s, and to God the things that are God’s.”
Whose coin is this? Jesus asks. We might imagine the US Supreme Court asking the same exact question, in regards to the coins found on the bottom of the ocean, in the wreckage of the Atocha. Whose coin is this? Are these coins the property of those who found them? Are these coins the property of the state whose boundary extends into those waters? Are these coins the property of the Spaniards, who printed their own marks upon the gold? Or, are these coins the property of the people who were living in South America, whose gold, silver, and emeralds were stolen from them?
Jesus’ words, Give therefore to the emperor the things that are the emperor’s, don’t give us the straightforward answers we might hope for. But perhaps that is the point. Jesus’ words were never meant to be taken as literal advice. Jesus’ words were not literal tax advice to the Pharisees, who had come to ask and challenge Jesus. Jesus’ words are not legal advice, in the case of colonial shipwrecks in the Gulf of Mexico. And Jesus’ words are not financial advice for our modern financial questions, as much as we might like to treat scripture as a magic 8 Ball that could give us all the answers. Jesus' words were not advice, period. Instead, Jesus’ words in this passage and throughout the New Testament – in his sermons and his parables – are a kind of teaching. They are not meant to answer our questions, but rather to expand our minds. They are meant to get us out of our narrow human framework– that framework that so easily inclines towards selfishness and sin– to show us a more expansive way of thinking and, by extension, a holier way of living. Jesus’ teachings invite us to see the world through God’s eyes.
Give therefore to the emperor the things that are the emperor’s, Jesus says. And give to God the things that are God’s. I think it’s that second sentence that stops the Pharisees in their tracks. “They were amazed,” the scripture says, “and they left him and went away.” Take a moment now to think about those things that are God’s. Or, to make things simpler, try and think of something, anything, that does not belong to God. This second part sentence almost seems to make the first part, the part about the emperor, irrelevant. Ultimately everything belongs to God. Think, for example, of the words of Psalm 95 (words that just preceded the portion that we heard chanted today). The Psalmist says: “the Lord is a great God, and a great King above all gods. In his hand are the caverns of the earth, and the heights of the hills are his also. The sea is his, for he made it, and his hands have molded the dry land.” Everything belongs to God our Creator, to the one who made us and loves us. We can imagine that everything on the face of the earth and in the caverns of the sea belongs to God. And yet we human beings quibble over coins found in the Atlantic. In actuality one might argue that every Spanish doubloon, every Roman denarius, every Chinese yen, every US dollar belongs to God. Everything in heaven and on earth belongs to God.
Now that doesn’t change the fact that finding $400 million dollars worth of treasure on the bottom of the ocean is a big deal. I get that. But still, I wonder how the act of remembering that everything on the earth ultimately belongs to God can change us. I wonder how this recognition could make us more grateful, more humble, more compassionate to people in situations different from our own. Everything in our lives is grace— a gift freely given. We did nothing to earn it. We did nothing to deserve it. And while I know, rationally, that Mel Fisher and his team spent sixteen years of hard work searching for the Atocha, I also believe that none of that would matter if God hadn’t created us in the first place. How might we think of treasure differently, if we remembered first that all we have and all we are belongs to God?
Now would be an appropriate time to make a stewardship appeal, in this season when we invite members of the church to consider how much of your talent and resources you can give towards the unfolding of God’s mission in this place. For today, I’m going to invite you to think about those things in your own time, and to reach out to myself, Luk, or any member of the Stewardship Committee to discern more about why you give, and what you might give this year. But since it isn’t Giving Sunday yet (that’s next Sunday, mark your calendars), I’d like to take a moment to pivot to something different; something that has been at the front of my mind throughout this week: the conflict in Israel and Palestine. A part of me doesn’t want to talk about these things– it feels too raw; too heavy; too controversial. But another part of me feels that it would be irresponsible not to talk about it, when so many of us are looking for guidance (myself included) and some kind of way forward.
Our lives are the greatest treasure of all, more precious than the most valuable shipwreck. I think that is one of the reasons why it is so painful for us to bear witness to the violence that is taking place in the Middle East; as we bear witness to the heartbreaking uncertainty of hostages being held by Hamas; as we bear witness to the tragedy of humanitarian aid being so long withheld from Palestinian citizens in Gaza. We all belong to God, and yet we are harming one another; we are killing one another.
There is a temptation, amidst all the news and narratives, to focus on labels. Are you pro-Israel? Are you pro-Palestine? At times it feels like a test; like the Pharisees trying to trip up Jesus with their many questions. But the words I keep returning to from today’s Gospel passage are these: render unto God the things that are God’s. We are all God’s children, created in God’s image, precious in God’s sight. I believe we have a responsibility to protect this gift, the greatest treasure in the world— the gift of life.
Expand your heart this week to see the world through God’s eyes. Become a treasure hunter, seeking to find the light of God in the people and places where you are least likely to recognize it. Seek the light of God, even as you listen to the news. And value human life in word and deed, in places near and far away. I hope that your gratitude for life will be fuel to stand up for those whose lives that are most vulnerable in the world today.
Still with many unanswered questions– but with the gift of God’s invitation to see the world through God’s own eyes, I want to leave you today with these words from the Book of Common Prayer, the Collect for the Human Family. Let us pray.
O God, you made us in your own image and redeemed us through Jesus your Son: Look with compassion on the whole human family; take away the arrogance and hatred which infect our hearts; break down the walls that separate us; unite us in bonds of love; and work through our struggle and confusion to accomplish your purposes on earth; that, in your good time, all nations and races may serve you in harmony around your heavenly throne; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.