Render to God What Belongs to God

A curious thing happens in the book of Isaiah. The prophet describes Cyrus, the king of Persia, as the Lord's anointed.

Now, this is a rather startling statement. In Israel, those who were anointed were typically priests and kings, people set apart for a particular role in God's plan. Yet Cyrus was not an Israelite. He was a pagan king who did not even worship the God of Israel.

Nevertheless, God calls him his anointed.

Why?

Because Cyrus would become instrumental in allowing the Jewish people to return to their homeland after their long exile in Babylon. God would accomplish his purposes through a man who did not even recognize him.

As Isaiah tells us, God says to Cyrus, "For the sake of Jacob, my servant, of Israel, my chosen one, I have called you by your name, giving you a title, though you knew me not."

There is something remarkable about this. God's authority is not limited to the people of Israel. He is not simply one god among many, exercising authority over a particular nation or territory. He is the Lord of all creation.

Every nation, every ruler, and every person, regardless of rank or importance, exists within his providence. Even those who do not know him can become instruments of his purposes.

Of course, this does not mean that everything a ruler does is good, or that political success amounts to divine approval. It means that even human ambition and human failure cannot place history beyond God's reach.

And this brings us to a rather interesting encounter in the Gospel.

The Pharisees, hoping to trap Jesus, send their disciples along with the Herodians to ask whether it is lawful to pay the census tax to Caesar, their foreign, pagan ruler.

It is a clever trap.

If Jesus says that they should pay the tax, he risks alienating those who resent Roman occupation. If he says that they should not, he can be accused of encouraging rebellion against Rome.

But Jesus is not interested in playing their game.

Instead, he asks them to show him the coin used to pay the tax.

"Whose image is this and whose inscription?"

"Caesar's," they reply.

What may not be immediately obvious to modern readers is that the coin itself carried religiously troubling claims.

The denarius commonly associated with this passage bore the image of Tiberius Caesar. Its inscription identified him as the son of the deified Augustus. The reverse carried the title Pontifex Maximus, identifying him as the chief priest of Roman religion.

For a faithful Jew, these were troubling claims. The emperor was not divine, and the claims of Roman religion could not be reconciled with the worship of the one true God.

Yet the very people attempting to trap Jesus can readily produce a coin bearing these claims.

Jesus could have made quite a point of that irony.

Instead, he says something far more profound.

"Then repay to Caesar what belongs to Caesar and to God what belongs to God."

The coin bears Caesar's image. It belongs to the earthly system over which Caesar exercises authority. Give it back to him.

But what bears the image of God?

We do.

From the very beginning of Genesis, we are told that human beings are created in the image and likeness of God.

And so, while Caesar may have a claim upon a coin, God has a claim upon the whole person.

Indeed, everything in creation ultimately belongs to him.

Jesus is not simply giving us a convenient formula for separating religion from politics. He is reminding us that earthly authority is real, but it is never absolute.

We have obligations to the societies in which we live. We should respect legitimate authority, contribute to the common good, and fulfill our responsibilities as citizens.

But we must never confuse earthly authority with divine authority.

Caesar may govern an empire, but he is not God.

And that distinction matters just as much today as it did two thousand years ago.

We live in the world, and we have responsibilities within it, but we must not allow ourselves to be conformed to it. Our ultimate allegiance belongs neither to a political leader nor to a nation, but to Jesus Christ.

This does not mean that earthly affairs are unimportant. Quite the contrary. Our faith should shape how we participate in them.

Yet it is possible to become so absorbed in earthly struggles that we begin to judge everything by whether it helps our side win. Truth becomes inconvenient. Charity becomes weakness. Other people become enemies before we remember that they, too, bear God's image.

We need to ask whether our faith is forming our response to the world, or whether the world is forming the way we practice our faith.

And we should never imagine that the success or failure of God's plan depends upon the success or failure of any earthly government.

After all, God used Cyrus, a pagan king who did not know him, to bring his people home from exile.

And God accomplished our salvation through the death and Resurrection of Jesus Christ, even though Roman authorities participated in his condemnation.

The injustice of the Crucifixion was not good. But God brought about the greatest good through it.

Earthly rulers may exercise great power, but they do not have the final word.

God does.

This is why St. Paul's words to the Thessalonians are so important.

Paul gives thanks to God for their "work of faith and labor of love and endurance in hope of our Lord Jesus Christ."

Notice what Paul praises.

He does not congratulate them for gaining political influence or achieving worldly success. He praises their faith, their love, and their perseverance.

These are the things that mark a community belonging to Christ.

And Paul reminds them that the Gospel did not come to them in word alone, but also in power and in the Holy Spirit.

The same Holy Spirit remains at work in the Church today.

Our calling does not change with the political circumstances around us. Whether we live under good rulers or poor ones, whether society welcomes our faith or rejects it, we are still called to lives of faith, love, and hope.

We must still tell the truth. We must still love our neighbors. We must still serve those in need and persevere in hope.

We do not have to wait for ideal circumstances before we can be faithful.

And if God could work through Cyrus, who did not know him, how much more should we desire to cooperate with the God who has called us to know and love him?

The psalmist tells us to "Give the Lord glory and honor."

That is ultimately what our lives should accomplish.

We give God glory when we recognize his authority over our lives, when we love our neighbors, when we remain faithful in difficult circumstances, and when we refuse to make idols of the things of this world.

Cyrus had his role to play. Caesar had his. And we have ours.

We may not always understand how God is working through the events of history, particularly when those events seem troubling or even contrary to his purposes.

But we can be confident that history is not outside his providence.

Christ has already conquered sin and death. His victory is not dependent upon any earthly power.

Caesar may be owed a tax. He is not owed our worship.

We belong to God.

And so, whatever circumstances we find ourselves in, our task remains the same: to persevere in faith, to labor in love, to endure in hope, and to give the Lord the glory and honor that belong to him alone.