“Render therefore to
Caesar the things that are Caesar’s, and to God the things that are God’s.” St. Matthew 22:21
It was
quietly noted a few weeks ago that Treasury Secretary Steve Mnuchin has declined
to endorse an Obama administration plan to put Harriet Tubman on the $20
bill. His predecessor, Jacob Lew, saw
honoring the great antislavery hero as the first step in redressing a historic
imbalance in the way we have honored national heroes. The $20 bill was a convenient place to start,
as Andrew Jackson has come under fire in recent years for his slaveholding and
for his decision to forcibly remove Indians to the West along the infamous
Trail of Tears.
But Andrew
Jackson also happens to be one of President Trump’s personal heroes. The President honors Jackson as a brave
soldier, and a symbol of democracy, the first true man of the people to be elected
to our nation’s highest office. The
president laid a wreath at Jackson’s tomb as part of the 250th
anniversary celebration of his birth and has hung a painting of him in the Oval
Office.[1] You can be sure that Old Hickory won’t be
leaving the currency on his watch.
The debate
over the $20 bill has caused some impassioned repartee, at least among the sort
of people who frequent the Facebook page of this former history major.
The Treasury Secretary has either rolled back
an important step towards righting ancient wrongs or he has put the lid on some
juvenile political correctness. Both
sides agree on one thing: that our currency carries important symbolic weight. It represents our nation’s values, and lifts
up heroes worthy of emulation. It bears the
image of the kind of people we aim to be.
In that
sense, not much has changed since Jesus invited the Pharisees and Herodians who
had crowded around him to pull out a coin and show Him the image it bore. Coinage was the most effective form of
propaganda in the ancient world.
Invariably coins were stamped with the picture of the ruler. In the absence of good written records, historians
of antiquity use coins to date the reigns of kings. The coins often bore an inscription, a
message that the ruler really wanted everyone to understand. And sometimes, as in the case of the denarius
produced by someone in the temple crowd, those inscriptions could arouse just
as much controversy as our $20 bill.
Jesus
asked the crowd whose image and inscription were stamped on the coin. They reply, “Caesar’s,” but that wasn’t
really a full answer. The coin did bear
an image of the ruling emperor, Tiberias Caesar, but it also had an inscription,
Tiberias Caesar, Augustus, son of the deified Augustus, pontifex maximus.” The
inscription was claiming the emperor was himself a god, and more than that, the
son of a god. He was also, it said, pontifex maximus, the chief
bridge-builder, who in his person united earth and the heavens.
That title
goes back to the very beginning of the city of Rome, when Numa Pompilius, the
second king, had made a pact with Jupiter, the greatest of Roman gods. He would offer sacrifices to Jupiter, and
Jupiter would ensure victory to his armies.
Rome’s great victories and its fabled peace were rooted in this pact,
the religio, it was called. That’s where our word religion comes from--the
bond, it means, the connection between gods and men, secured by the divine
emperor.[2]
Any Jew
with an ounce of integrity in him classed this story as rank superstition, and
would have probably resented the inevitable need to carry a bit of it with him
in his pouch as he went about his daily business. But Jews differed among
themselves about just how offensive the coinage really was, and Jesus’
questioners they were, in part, inviting Him into a squabble that had long
ranged between them.
The
Herodians were the supporters of the puppet king that the Roman authorities had
installed to rule the Jews. They were
always falling over themselves to make peace with their distant overlords and
would have shrugged their shoulders about the coinage—the price of doing
business, and all that.
Pharisees
resented Roman rule, and many would have been troubled about carrying around
all those little idols in their pockets.
Remember the moneychangers Jesus drove out of the temple? They were part of a work-around that the
Pharisees had helped to broker.
Sacrificial animals for temple worship had to be purchased at the
temple’s own stockyards, and you could only buy them in special temple
currency, which was conspicuously free of the heads of Roman emperors and
mentions of pontifexes maximi.
On this
occasion, the two sides had set aside their squabbles to trap Jesus into making
a politically charged statement. What
about the tribute, they ask him, the annual head tax paid to the emperor by all
his subjects? Is it lawful or not? Jesus, after all, had been hailed as a
king. He claimed that through His words
and deeds the true God was coming to reign among His people. But what did He really think about the man on
the throne back in Rome, the one who claimed to be a god, who thought his
sacrifices reconcile God and man. Should
we pay taxes to someone like that? To
say no was an act of insurrection. But
to say yes could suggest there might be something to those claims Caesar was
making. It might imply that the kingdom
at the heart of Jesus’ own teaching was merely abstract, altogether tame, a
kind of glowing ideal in the mind far removed from the gritty realities of life
on the street.
Jesus
gives a careful answer, one that means more than it seems to say at first
glance. On the one hand, “Render to
Caesar what is Caesar’s.” Pay the
tribute he wants, be a good citizen, do your part. Christians should pray for the leaders and
pay what is owed for the civil benefits they enjoy. Caesar’s coins, like all the things of this
world are passing away—if he wants them, let him have them.
“But
render to God what is God’s.” That means on the one hand, that Caesar is only
Caesar, a sinner like all the rest of us.
There is only one bridge-builder, as Saint Paul would explain, “there is
one mediator between God and man, the man Jesus Christ, who gave himself as a
ransom for all.”[3] There is only One who can establish a true religio, a holy bond that reconciles
humanity to its loving Father. And He
stands before you here.
Insisting
that Caesar is only Caesar remarkably restricts his power. As St. John Chrysostom wrote, “When you hear
the command to render to Caesar the things of Caesar, know that such things
only are intended which in nothing are opposed to religion; if such there be,
it is no longer Caesar’s but the Devil’s tribute.”[4]
Rendering
to Caesar and to God, most Christians have been loyal and productive citizens,
“living peaceably with all.”[5] But on the basis of Christ’s claim, some have
also challenged deeply rooted social injustices, fighting for the abolition of
slavery, for example, and protesting against discrimination. And for the sake of rendering to God what is
God’s, some have laid down their own lives, confessing steadfastly the one Lord
who brooks no rival.
But Jesus
also is pointing to a deeper truth about human life and the God who sustains
it. For if the coin bears Caesar’s
image, we are the ones made in God’s image, we are His coinage.[6] All that we have comes from Him, and He bids
us to make a fair return for the benefits we have received.
God breathed life into us.
Through His Son, He forgives us, renews us in grace, and promises us
eternal joy in His Presence. Our talents and skills, the relationships that
bring us joy and meaning, and our worldly possessions and the wisdom to use
them rightly—all these come from His hands.
He bids us love Him with all our heart, mind and strength,
offer ourselves as living sacrifices, doing His will, praising Him
continually. But we also offer back a
portion in the coinage of this world, gifts pledged for His work in the church.
In a few moments, you will bring these
forward for our common ministry in the coming year here at St. Francis. These pledges demonstrate our loyalty and
proclaim our faith. They are signs that
we have seen and know how good God has been to us. They are a humble return for His abundant
grace.
[1]
Appelbaum, Binyamin. “Mnuchim Doesn’t
Endorse Placing Harriet Tubman on the New $20 Bill.” The New York Times, 31 Aug. 2017, https://www.nytimes.com/2017/08/31/us/politics/mnuchin-harriet-tubman-jackson-money.html?_r=0
[2] Green,
Michael. The Message of Matthew. Leicester: IVP, 200, 223.
[3] I
Tim. 2:5-6.
[4] Qtd.
in Thomas Aquinas, Catena Aurea, Gospel
of Matthew 22:15-22. http://www.lectionarycentral.com/trinity23/CatenaAurea.html
[5]
Rom. 12:18.
[6] c.f.
Augustine, Sermon XL.
Very nice Mark. Thank you for posting this.
ReplyDeleteExcellent sermon, Father Mark. We do make a conscious choices between the world and God by how we distribute those things of value we have in our control. Since we can take nothing material with us, our judgment will largely be based on our stewardship of all our talents. Jesus makes this plain in the passage on which your sermon was based, and you make plain what Jesus meant.
ReplyDeleteBill Perry