Nineteenth Sunday After Trinity

Texts: Matthew 22:15-22; 1 Thessalonians 1:1-10; Isaiah 45:1-7; Psalm 96:1-9
Date: 18 October 2020

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Then he said to them, “Give therefore to the emperor the things that are the emperor’s, and to God the things that are God’s.” Or, as the King James Bible famously puts it, “Render therefore unto Caesar the things which are Caesar’s; and unto God the things that are God’s.”

Our Gospel reading for this Sunday, the so-called tribute passage, was extremely popular among the early Christians. Look no further than the three synoptic Gospels; all of them, Matthew, Mark, and Luke, make a point of reporting this curious incident. What is more, many scholars are convinced that the apostle Paul has this saying in mind when he implores the Church in Rome: “Pay to all what is due to them—taxes to whom taxes are due, revenue to whom revenue is due, respect to whom respect is due, honour to whom honour is due” (Rom 13:7).

Such is the significance of the tribute passage that virtually every church father—Origen, Irenaeus, Tertullian, Augustine, to name but a few—put pen to paper and offered an interpretation of this text. Even the Gnostics, in the non-canonical Gospel of Thomas, could not help but enter the exegetical fray with their own take on the matter. In the politically turbulent world of the Roman Empire, the things which are Caesar’s were a live issue, and understandably so. Amid a global pandemic, with presidential elections in the world’s most powerful country looming large on the horizon, politics could not be more urgent or relevant today either.

The Bible has much to say about the Kingdom of God and the kingdoms of this world, from bombarding exploitative elites with dire prophetic warnings to dispensing words of practical wisdom to those in government. The tribute passage, for its part, sets its sights on a foundational issue—namely, the relationship between the things of God and the things of the emperor. In other words, it establishes an overall framework of how religion and politics slot together. It will not surprise you that through the ages, faithful Christians, in an effort to come to terms with this puzzling text, arrived at diametrically opposed conclusions.

For many interpreters, ancient and modern alike, the things of God and the things of the emperor are mutually exclusive. On this reading, Jesus, in a craftily subversive manoeuvre, defines “the things of God” in such a way as to exclude and nullify “the things of Caesar”. The point is that everything belongs to God, and nothing is the emperor’s. On the surface, of course, Jesus seems to recognise the tax, but this is nothing but a clever ploy. The original audience would have readily picked up on the strong revolutionary undertones. The payment of tribute to Caesar was an act of disloyalty to God. The Lord, the God of Israel, was simply not in the business of compromising or striking deals with Caesar.

This way of thinking about our Gospel reading is gaining more and more traction. This is especially the case in certain strands of post-colonial theology, which wrestles with how an oppressed minority can live with integrity under colonial domination. On the biblical front, there is strong support for this approach. For example, in defence of this interpretation, proponents can cite the Shema of Deuteronomy: “Hear, O Israel: The Lord is our God, the Lord alone. You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your might.” Not much room left for Caesar. I suspect that most of us, at one point or another, perhaps even now, have found this revolutionary interpretation appealing and exhilarating, particularly when Caesar fails us, again and again.

The second interpretative path, by contrast, holds that Jesus’s statement offers a harmonious vision of the things of Caesar and the things of God. The two demands constitute parallel, complementary duties that can be carried out simultaneously. Obey the commands of the king, and obey the commandments of God. The ecclesiastical and civil spheres were never intended to be in conflict; they mesh seamlessly. There is no dichotomy between God and Caesar. Historically, it is this passage that has emerged as a rallying cry for those who would keep God and politics, religion and the state, entirely separate.

Now, let me underscore that this line of interpretation should not be viewed as inherently anti-Christian or anti-Church. On the contrary, there are weighty theological and practical reasons why you might wish to go in this direction. Many Christian groups have historically gravitated to this point of view in order to purge the Church of what they regarded as unhelpful temporal distractions. For them, religion was a matter of the heart. It is union with Christ that we ought to be concerned about, not matters of law or tax. Christians are to withdraw from the rest of the world and build a separate society. For yet another group of Christians, this passage served as proof positive that it is our duty to be loyal to the government no matter what. This is God’s will.

I must admit that my own preferences lie with a third approach—a somewhat messy middle way that tries to escape dualistic thinking. I want to have my cake and eat it too. This interpretation upholds “the things of Caesar” while prioritising “the things of God.” In this way, the demands of Caesar are allowed to stand, but are strongly subordinated to the demands of God.

In contrast to the revolutionary readings that would leave nothing to Caesar, this third way recognises that God mandates and works through the powers that be. We see it clearly in Isaiah’s announcement that, through Cyrus, God will fulfil his divine purpose to rebuild Jerusalem. God has worked and will work through “Caesar”, or Cyrus. This is truly startling, for Cyrus was a thoroughly pagan ruler with a hardly unblemished reputation. And yet, he became an instrument of God’s good providence, to be obeyed and honoured. Today’s governments, too, may be viewed as instruments of God’s good provision to the extent that they supply healthcare and education, and protect our lives and liberties. In fact, in the Old Testament, the prophet Jeremiah never ceases to intercede for the sinful and worthless rulers of the kingdom of Judah, even though God himself tells him to stop.

But this middle way also differs radically from the second approach, whereby God and Caesar belong to parallel realms. The truth is that even if we agree that the separation between church and state is a good thing—which I certainly think it is—that can never mean simply that there is one sphere, the Church, where God rules, and another sphere, politics, which God surrenders to Caesar. As Isaiah reminds us, “I am the Lord and there is no other.” It is perhaps tempting for us to see Christianity as a private form of spirituality. It may be comfortable to see the Church as a weekend club we attend at our convenience. But we must never lose sight of the fact that the Christian faith makes sweeping claims and far-reaching demands, often of a political nature. To divide life between the empire and God is too easy, too neat.

So, the words of Jesus that we have heard today are, as always, profoundly challenging. So much so that the Herodians and the Pharisees were amazed, we are told. If it seems easy to us to “give to the emperor the things that are the emperor’s, and to God the things that are God’s,” then we are probably doing it wrong. We may have grown too comfortable, too complacent and may be avoiding the struggle. But Jesus invites us into the struggle, into the eye of the storm. He calls those who follow him to stand in the tension between God and Caesar, between our Creator and our many emperors. It is neither a safe nor comfortable place to be. But this is where Jesus is, and where he bids his Church to go.

Amen.

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Eighteenth Sunday After Trinity