Give to God What is God’s

In the famous words of Admiral Ackbar from Star Wars, “It’s a trap!”

The question we might ask when reading our Gospel story this morning is simple: a trap for whom?

Welcome to our passage from Matthew. It is as sure a trap as I have ever seen. It is not Jesus who is setting an ambush for anyone. Rather, it is the Pharisees and the Herodians who have joined together to ensnare Jesus. That partnership alone should make us pause and raise our eyebrows. Under normal circumstances, the Pharisees and the Herodians were not natural allies. The Herodians supported the Roman puppet king and aligned themselves with imperial rule, while the Pharisees were devoted to religious preservation and often resisted Roman cultural encroachment. Yet when it comes to neutralizing Jesus, they suddenly find common ground.

They begin by singing his praises. They come to him offering smooth compliments and glowing words. They talk about how good a teacher of the law he is, how he always teaches the way of God in truth, and how he shows deference to no one regardless of social status. It is pure flattery. They are buttering him up so they can slide him directly into the frying pan.

Then comes the question that has been carefully constructed to corner him: “Is it lawful to pay taxes to the emperor, or not?”

To his credit, Jesus recognizes the trap immediately. He does not take the bait. He looks at them and asks, “Why are you putting me to the test?”

It is clear that their line of questioning is meant to discredit and endanger him. The trap is designed so that whatever simple answer he gives will destroy him. If Jesus answers yes, that it is lawful to pay taxes to Caesar, he risks alienating the crowds who are suffering under Roman taxation. In the eyes of many devout people, paying an imperial tax using coins stamped with Caesar’s divine pretensions was seen as a compromise of their covenant loyalty to God alone. If he says yes, he looks like a collaborator.

On the other hand, if he answers no, that it is not lawful to pay the tax, the Herodians will report him to the Roman authorities before the day is over. He will be branded an anti imperial insurrectionist, a tax resister, and an immediate threat to the peace of the province. That charge would lead straight to arrest and execution.

It is a classic either or trap. In our culture, we see this all the time. Political debates and online arguments constantly try to force us into rigid, polarized corners. Either you are entirely on this side, or you are on that side. You are with us, or you are our enemy.

Jesus completely rejects the binary. He does not offer an all or nothing response. Such an approach is naive. The world is rarely split so neatly into black and white; there are complexities, nuances, and shades of grey.

Instead of taking one of their two predetermined paths, Jesus asks to see the coin used for the tax. Notice something wonderful and subtle that happens in that moment. As theologian Andrew McGowan observes, Jesus is not presented as someone who walks around with a Roman denarius or didrachma jingling in his pocket. Jesus lives an itinerant lifestyle, dependent upon daily hospitality, wandering from town to town. He does not even carry the currency of the empire on his person.

Yet when Jesus asks to see the coin, his opponents produce one immediately. Scholar Raj Nadella points out that the ease and speed with which the Pharisees and Herodians pull out the coin exposes something crucial. It reveals the extent to which everyone, including and especially the religious and political leaders, was already participating in Caesar’s economy, whether willingly or because they felt they had no other choice. They are already using Roman silver to buy food, conduct business, and maintain their social standing. By holding the coin in their hands right there in the temple courts, they demonstrate that they are already deeply entangled in the imperial system.

Jesus holds up the denarius and asks a straightforward question: “Whose head is on this coin, and what is the title?”

They answer, “Caesar’s.”

On that coin was the face of the emperor Tiberius, and inscribed around his portrait were titles declaring him to be the divine son of Augustus and the high priest. It was a piece of pure political and imperial propaganda.

Jesus then offers his famous response, a third way that evades their trap and turns the mirror right back onto them: “Give therefore to Caesar the things that are Caesar’s, and to God the things that are God’s.”

When they hear these words, they are utterly amazed. They leave him and walk away. Their clever scheme has collapsed in a spectacular fashion.

What does Jesus actually mean by this statement? For centuries, people have taken this verse and turned it into a neat little formula for dividing up our lives. People often assume Jesus is creating a clean separation between church and state, or dividing our existence into two distinct buckets: our civic duties in one bucket and our spiritual lives in the other. Give Caesar his portion on April thirtieth when your taxes are due, and give God an hour on Sunday morning and a bit in the offering plate.

Andrew McGowan cautions us against reading our modern concepts of church and state back into the first century. In the world of the Gospels, those two separate entities did not exist. In ancient thought, and certainly in the prophetic Jewish tradition that Jesus inhabited, God does not inhabit a small, cordoned off spiritual realm. God is the source and ground of all existence, the truth underlying all things visible and invisible. What belongs to God is not merely a percentage of our income or our Sunday rituals. What belongs to God is everything. The earth is the Lord’s, and the fullness thereof.

When Jesus places what belongs to Caesar beside what belongs to God, his response is not a deferential endorsement of imperial power. It is deeply ironic. It is a dismissive diagnosis of imperial pretensions. Caesar may put his face on a piece of silver and claim ownership over the coin, but Caesar did not create the universe. Caesar does not sustain life, Caesar did not fashion human dignity, and Caesar has no moral authority over the human soul.

As Raj Nadella reminds us, paying taxes acknowledges Rome’s brute political and military power, but it does not grant Rome moral authority to rule. That moral authority belongs to God alone. Jesus is not asking the people living on the margins, who are already struggling under poverty and imperial oppression, to stage a suicidal tax revolt that will get them crushed by Roman legions. He protects them from danger, while at the very same time showing that the coinage of God’s kingdom is of a radically different nature than that of Caesar. God does not trade in the currency of fear, exploitation, or violence.

In our modern world, we often joke about taxes. People look for every possible deduction, and we read about offshore tax havens designed to shelter personal fortunes. There is the familiar saying that the only two certainties in life are death and taxes. In a democratic society, paying our taxes is simply part of how we support the common good, funding healthcare, public education, infrastructure, and social programs. Paying our civic share is not an act of disloyalty to God.

Coins carry symbols that reflect what a society values. Think about the images printed on our Canadian money. On our bills and coins, we find symbols that tell a story about who we are and what we celebrate. Over time we’ve had the following: on the twenty dollar bill, we see the Canadian National Vimy Memorial, reflecting sacrifice and remembrance. On the five dollar bill, we see the Canadarm, pointing to human ingenuity and scientific exploration. On the one hundred dollar bill, we see the discovery of medical insulin, honouring life saving compassion and research. On the ten dollar bill, we see civil rights pioneer Viola Desmond, whose courageous refusal to accept racial injustice helped bend our country toward greater equity. Terry Fox will soon be on the $5 bill.

These symbols represent the best of what citizens can contribute to society. They remind us that as followers of Christ, our civic participation and our life in the world are measured best when they become gifts back to God, blessing others, seeking justice, and creating good trouble where oppression exists.

There is an important linguistic nuance here in the Greek text. When the Pharisees ask whether it is lawful to pay taxes, they use the verb didomi, which simply means to give or to pay. But when Jesus answers, he changes the verb. He uses apodidomi, which means to give back, to return something to its rightful owner.

When you give back the coin to Caesar, you are simply returning an imperial token to the ruler whose image is stamped upon it. But then Jesus adds: give back to God what belongs to God.

That leads us to the heart of the matter. If the coin bears the image of Caesar, what bears the image of God?

You do. We do. Every single human being bears the divine image.

Genesis reminds us that humanity was created in the image and likeness of God. Caesar’s image may be stamped on cold metal, but the image of the living God is stamped upon the human heart. Jesus is not asking who the coin belongs to; Jesus is asking who you belong to. What is your true identity? Where does your ultimate loyalty rest?

When we give ourselves back to God, we are returning our lives, our gifts, and our moral imagination to the One who breathed life into us.

Professor Yung Suk Kim writes that what Jesus teaches us is a critical interpretation of the world and a conscientious engagement in the world, based on what we believe is true. We are called to bear the fruit of our theological interpretation.

In my study, I have a book titled Thinking Theologically. That is the calling of our faith. We are not called to check our minds at the door. We are called to think through the present challenges of our society through the lens of Gospel love and justice. When we look at issues like affordable housing, mental health, ecological stewardship, poverty, and systemic racism, we look at them through the eyes of Jesus.

Some theological interpretations claim that because Scripture speaks of a new heaven and a new earth, this present world does not matter, and we can consume and pollute the earth without consequence. I fundamentally disagree with that reading. Progressive theology reminds us that God loves this world and all of creation. The kingdom of God is not just an escape plan for the future; it is a present reality breaking into our lives here and now.

We must not fall into the trap of letting the values of empire dictate our lives. When we chase after wealth, prestige, and power, we are bowing to Caesar’s currency. When we practice radical welcome, when we feed the hungry, when we stand with the vulnerable, and when we care for this beautiful, fragile planet, we are trading in the currency of the kingdom of God.

You belong to God. Your life, your voice, your compassion, and your love belong to God.

May we live with the wisdom to navigate the world around us, and with the courage to return our whole hearts to God. Let us go forth to share God’s love, to seek justice, and to give ourselves back to the One whose image we bear. Amen.