Apostles Anglican Church
Fr. John A. Roop
Pentecost 21 (22 October 2023)

Render Unto Caesar?
(Matthew 22:15-22)

Matthew 22:17 (ESV): 17 Tell us, then, what you think. Is it lawful to pay taxes to Caesar, or not?”

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

You’re surely familiar with “no-win questions” — questions that can’t be answered without incurring significant, self-imposed, personal damage. These questions often trade on complex or controversial issues, reducing them to a ridiculously oversimplified “yes/no” format where each answer presents an untenable and dangerous option. Political pundits — I will not dignify them by calling them journalists — political pundits have made asking these questions into an art form and politicians have made evading these questions into an equal and opposite art form.

I don’t want to wax partisan here, but I do need to give a recent example to make this idea clear. Don’t read anything into this example other than an attempt to give needed background as I segue into the Gospel text.

Several Republican notables are vying for the party’s presidential nomination, and all trail Donald Trump by double digits in the polls. In a recent debate — actually before the debate, I think — all the candidates were asked this question: If Donald Trump becomes the Republican Party nominee for President, will you pledge now to support him?

How can you answer such a no-win question? “Yes” would essentially be a concession, an admission that you don’t really think you have a viable shot at being the nominee and that you are really just trying to garner name recognition in hopes of some cabinet appointment or perhaps the vice-presidential slot on the ticket. It might well erode what little support you have. But, a “No” answer is no better. “No” would alienate much of the base and even much of the undecided block. Can you really trust someone who is openly disloyal to his/her party, who won’t support the party’s nominee? There simply is no way to answer that question without damage. That is why it was asked: to watch the politicians squirm on the public stage.

Or what about this political-adjacent question: Are you in favor of personal autonomy, of the right of each individual to make final decisions about his/her own body? Answer “yes” — which might seem the obvious answer — and the follow up comments will implicate you in the approval of abortion — the right of a woman to make final decisions about her own body — and of support for a minor’s right to receive gender-affirming surgery or hormonal therapy without parental consent. Don’t want to go there? Then answer “no.” But wait: that means that someone else, perhaps even the state, will have the right to make final decisions about your body. That makes you complicit in supporting euthanasia, the right of the state to determine when you should no longer receive medical care and should instead be “murdered with dignity.” There is simply no way to answer that complex and controversial question with yes or no. It was intentionally designed to be unanswerable, to trap the respondent.

Why ask such no-win questions? It seems to me there are two fundamental reasons: either the questioner seeks to elevate his own status — See how clever I am? — or else he seeks to destroy the respondent’s status or power — Watch what this question does to your following. This kind of question puts people in their place.

To be fair, Jesus himself used such a no-win question on a least one occasion to silence the chief priests and the elders. Watch how it works, and how well it works:

Matthew 21:23–27 (ESV): 23 And when he entered the temple, the chief priests and the elders of the people came up to him as he was teaching, and said, “By what authority are you doing these things, and who gave you this authority?” 24 Jesus answered them, “I also will ask you one question, and if you tell me the answer, then I also will tell you by what authority I do these things. 25 The baptism of John, from where did it come? From heaven or from man?” And they discussed it among themselves, saying, “If we say, ‘From heaven,’ he will say to us, ‘Why then did you not believe him?’ 26 But if we say, ‘From man,’ we are afraid of the crowd, for they all hold that John was a prophet.” 27 So they answered Jesus, “We do not know.” And he said to them, “Neither will I tell you by what authority I do these things.

So, Jesus posed a no-win question to best and to silence the temple authorities. It worked all right, but, turnabout, they say, is fair play. So, in our text today, the Pharisees and the Herodians come with a similar no-win question for Jesus, maliciously intending to entangle him in his own words.

Matthew 22:15–17 (ESV): 15 Then the Pharisees went and plotted how to entangle him in his words. 16 And they sent their disciples to him, along with the Herodians, saying, “Teacher, we know that you are true and teach the way of God truthfully, and you do not care about anyone’s opinion, for you are not swayed by appearances. 17 Tell us, then, what you think. Is it lawful to pay taxes to Caesar, or not?”

We must give credit where credit is due, even if grudgingly; this is a clever question. It is a classic example of the no-win form: a complex and controversial issue reduced to an over-simplified yes/no question format with each possible answer incurring significant, self-imposed, personal damage on the respondent. Well done, you Pharisees. Good on you, Herodians.

If Jesus answers “no” — as his most ardent supporters and the general downtrodden masses almost certainly want him to do — then he will place himself in open rebellion against Rome; he will position himself — or will allow the Pharisees and Herodians to position him — as the leader of a tax revolt. He is already on shaky ground with Rome due to his entry into Jerusalem just days before and his disruption of Temple commerce. That’s two strikes; one more strike over taxes might just be enough to force Rome’s hand.

But, if Jesus answers “yes” — as perhaps his most sober minded opponents among the high priests and Sadducees want him to do — then he will effectively renounce his messianic aspirations; his support will go instantly from relatively small but growing to vanishingly small and decreasing.

It is a splendidly wicked question, matched only by — surpassed only by — Jesus’ answer.

Matthew 22:17–22 (ESV): 17 “Tell us, then, what you think. Is it lawful to pay taxes to Caesar, or not?” 18 But Jesus, aware of their malice, said, “Why put me to the test, you hypocrites? 19 Show me the coin for the tax.” And they brought him a denarius. 20 And Jesus said to them, “Whose likeness and inscription is this?” 21 They said, “Caesar’s.” Then he said to them, “Therefore render to Caesar the things that are Caesar’s, and to God the things that are God’s.” 22 When they heard it, they marveled. And they left him and went away.

How can we describe the brilliance of Jesus’ answer? It is a living chess gambit, a spectacular mate-in-three victory.

Move 1: “Show me the coin for the tax.” This crucial move sets everything in motion.

Move 2: “Whose likeness and inscription is this?” Get the opponents to commit.

Move 3: “Render to Caesar the things that are Caesar’s, and to God the things that are God’s.” Spring the trap.

Now, before we look at these moves in detail, we first must consider what game Jesus is really playing. This is not a petty game of one-upsmanship. “Oh, so you think you’re clever? Watch this.” This is not a partisan game of religious rivalries: Pharisees and Herodians and Priests and Sadducees versus the Nazarene. This is not a high-stakes game of political “chicken” — Israel versus Rome. It doesn’t even really have anything in particular to do with taxes. Although I introduced the language of games into Jesus’ answer, this is not really a game at all. It is a pitched battle for the hearts, minds, and souls of the human race: God in the Person of his incarnate Son contending against all the forces of the world, the flesh, and the devil in the forms of misguided religion, brutal state power, and feckless humanity, contending for the hearts, minds, and souls of the very people trying to ensnare him with their no-win question. This is serious business with eternal consequences.

To better understand Jesus’ answer, I think we have to read it backwards, to take the moves in reverse order starting with the conclusion.

“Render to Caesar the things that are Caesar’s, and to God the things that are God’s.” That “answer” isn’t intended to put a period at the end of the sentence and stop the discussion; it is intended to provoke a soul-searching question: What actually does belong to Caesar, and what actually does belong instead to God? We should stop here for some prayer and reflection on that, but time won’t allow. So, we’ll move on directly to the litmus test that Jesus gave.

“Whose likeness and inscription is this?” Jesus is asking about the coin for the tax, of course, but surely he wants us to broaden the question and the answer. What is it that uniquely and solely bears Caesar’s image? Asked another way, what is it that does not bear the imprint of God?

In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth. This is the very first assertion about God in Scripture. And then, surveying all that he had made God said, “It is good.” Why is it good? Because it expresses his will. Because it bears the imprint of God. Lest we miss this, St. John tells us again in his Prologue, intentionally harkening back to Genesis but now with Jesus front and center:

John 1:1–3 (ESV): 1 In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. 2 He was in the beginning with God. 3 All things were made through him, and without him was not any thing made that was made.

There is nothing in all the created order that does not bear the imprint of the Word by whom, through whom, and for whom it was made: nothing. Whose likeness is this? God’s. Whose inscription is this? The Word’s.

And now, more personally:

Genesis 1:26–28 (ESV): 26 Then God said, “Let us make man in our image, after our likeness. And let them have dominion over the fish of the sea and over the birds of the heavens and over the livestock and over all the earth and over every creeping thing that creeps on the earth.”

27 So God created man in his own image,
in the image of God he created him;
male and female he created them.

28 And God blessed them.

The whole sordid history of this world is simply a record of man denying the imprint of God upon himself and others, the attempt to eradicate the likeness and image of God in the face in the mirror or in the faces across the border or behind the barbed wire or the prison bars or in the faces across the boardroom table or in the faces and bodies seen in the pornography on the computer screen or in the baby in the womb or in the old person in hospice or in the beggar on the street. Who is it that bears the image of God? Jesus prods us to ask. Who doesn’t?

And as difficult as that question might be to face directly, there is even more. Jesus asks his interlocutors whose likeness they see on the coin. They almost certainly look first at the coin and then at him before they answer, and that — right there in the space between them, as they look at him — is where the real question hangs in the air: Forget the coin for a moment. Look at me. Whose likeness do you see? They have no answer. They don’t even perceive the question. But we have the answer, given to us by St. Paul:

Colossians 1:15–20 (ESV): 15 He is the image of the invisible God, the firstborn of all creation. 16 For by him all things were created, in heaven and on earth, visible and invisible, whether thrones or dominions or rulers or authorities—all things were created through him and for him. 17 And he is before all things, and in him all things hold together. 18 And he is the head of the body, the church. He is the beginning, the firstborn from the dead, that in everything he might be preeminent. 19 For in him all the fullness of God was pleased to dwell, 20 and through him to reconcile to himself all things, whether on earth or in heaven, making peace by the blood of his cross.

The Pharisees and Herodians are haggling over a little piece of metal on which Caesar has stamped his imprint when the image of the invisible God of all creation stands right there before them, the one who bears the fullness of God in human flesh. For God’s sake — truly, for God’s sake — ask the right question, people: Whose image and inscription do you see in the face of Jesus?

And now we come to the first, pivotal move of Jesus’ answer with a chance of beginning to understand its brilliance: Show me the coin for the tax. This much is obvious; Jesus doesn’t have a coin. I don’t think this is a commentary on his poverty or on the fact that Judas has the moneybag for the group. I don’t consider it primarily a comment on Jesus’ piety, a refusal to carry a graven image of Caesar. Taken in context, I think it is a declaration: There is nothing about me that bears the image of Caesar or that belongs to him. Caesar has no claim on me, and I do not owe anything to Caesar, but instead everything to God. And what is true uniquely and supremely of Jesus is true derivatively of us. The world, the flesh, and the devil have no claim on us for we are citizens of the Kingdom of God and we bear the image of the one who has redeemed us and made us his own, the one who indwells us through the Holy Spirit. Is it proper to pay tribute to the world, the flesh, and the devil? Show us a coin. Now look into the face of Jesus.

While studying and praying this text, an image kept coming to mind, less an invitation to ponder than an intrusion clamoring for attention. Since I can’t seem to shake it, I’ll share it with you. Imagine a picture of yourself, full body, head to toe. Now imagine that the photograph is actually a jigsaw puzzle — five hundred little interlocking pieces that make you up. Now imagine your boss or teacher or other significant authority figure standing there reaching for several of the pieces, taking them out of the puzzle and saying, “These belong to me.” Then along comes the government to claim a few pieces. And your colleagues. And your family. And your friends — maybe even your enemies, too. And your book club. And, and, and … all claiming the pieces that they think belong to them until all the pieces are gone and there is nothing left of you. And all along you have simply been rendering unto Caesar what is Caesar’s. Right? But there is this little, niggling voice in the background asking, “Whose likeness and inscription is this?” There is this still, small voice whispering, “Render to God what is God’s.”

So, what are we to do? How are we to reclaim the pieces? Perhaps we start here with this recognition and offering from one of our Eucharistic liturgies:

And here we offer and present to you, O Lord, ourselves, our souls and bodies, to be a reasonable, holy, and living sacrifice (BCP 2019, p. 117).

What must we render to God? Ourselves, our whole selves, our souls and bodies — all that we are and all that we have.

Our maybe we start with reordering our loves if they have become disordered. Hear what our Lord Jesus Christ says:

You shall love the Lord you God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind. This is the first and great commandment (ibid, p. 106).

Or maybe we start by refusing any more to buy security with little pieces of ourselves:

Matthew 6:31–33 (ESV): 31 Therefore do not be anxious, saying, ‘What shall we eat?’ or ‘What shall we drink?’ or ‘What shall we wear?’ 32 For the Gentiles seek after all these things, and your heavenly Father knows that you need them all. 33 But seek first the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things will be added to you.

I know it would be easy to misunderstand what I’ve been so haltingly trying to communicate, just as it was easy for the Pharisees and Herodians to misunderstand Jesus’ answer. I am not talking about social or spiritual isolation, about joining a monastery or convent so that we can spend every waking moment in prayer. I’m not talking about an attitude that says to others, “What we might have given to you, we have devoted to God, so we can no longer help you.” I am saying this: that we must render our whole self to God — nothing kept back, nothing offered to modern day Caesars in whatever form they take — so that God can then use us as he will. Let me offer another image to contrast with the earlier puzzle image, a Eucharistic image this time, that captures what I’m trying to say.

We offer ourselves, our souls and bodies, to be a reasonable, holy, and living sacrifice. God takes that self-offering, blesses it — blesses us — breaks it — breaks us — into God only knows how many pieces, and gives it — gives us — away for the life of the world. We render nothing to Caesar and everything to God for him to use for his glory and for the welfare of his people. It is only in this offering, only in this blessing, only in this breaking and being given, that we are made whole.

Matthew 22:17 (ESV): 17 Tell us, then, what you think. Is it lawful to pay taxes to Caesar, or not?”

Amen.