Loopholes

But Jesus, aware of their malice, said, “Why are you putting me to the test, you hypocrites? Show me the coin used for the tax.” And they brought him a denarius. Then he said to them, “Whose head is this, and whose title?”

They answered, “The emperor’s.”

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.”

When they heard this, they were amazed; and they left him and went away [Matthew 22:18-22].

You’ve likely heard this, but W.C. Fields, the hard-living vaudevillian, was caught one day reading a Bible in his dressing room. When asked what he was doing, Fields is alleged to have responded, “Looking for loopholes, my boy, looking for loopholes.” Each time the three-year cycle of the Revised Common Lectionary offers up the Gospel reading for this upcoming Sunday, Matthew 22:15-22 [the Twenty-first Sunday after Pentecost, RCL, Year A], I feel a bit like Mr. Fields. Each time I encounter this familiar narrative, the one that takes place on Tuesday of the last week of Jesus’ earthly life, when the Pharisees—who oppose Roman authority—and the Herodians—who support it—come to Jesus with a clever trap, and I hear our Savior’s response to their query, I sink more than a little bit. I wonder to myself, “How far is my creed from my deed?”

You remember the encounter. These two groups, who have literally nothing in common save their opposition to Jesus, posit to him a trick question: “Is it OK to pay taxes to Caesar?” They’re sure it’s a “heads I win, tails you lose” scenario. A simple “yes” will deeply contradict His earlier pronouncements that one should be loyal only to God. A strong “no,” however, will easily brand him as a revolutionary.

Like Paul Harvey, we know the “rest of the story,” that Jesus asks for the famous coin, takes it in His hand, points to the emperor’s image, and then essentially says, “Render to Caesar what is Caesar’s, and to God what is God’s.”

A rendering we will go: For many years, I read this passage and thought to myself, “Jesus is so smart. He managed to turn the tables on both groups by giving an ambiguous answer.” I also thought that Jesus had offered up a splendid compromise in keeping with Paul’s later words to the Roman church, where Paul advises, “Let everyone be subject to the governing authorities, …” [Romans 13:1].

Yesterday, I read a commentary on this passage that more or less picks up on Paul’s point to the Romans:

Governments are necessary, taxes may be necessary, and every country has a Caesar of sorts to contend with. So, render unto that Caesar whatever is due. But, don’t mess around with the things that belong to God [since I’m going to criticize this point, I won’t name the commentary].

A rendering we will go: Who could disagree with such a practical, reasonable position? No one, of course. Not even W.C. Fields, for in reading the Matthew narrative this way, we’re able to come up with a marvelous loophole. Jesus isn’t demanding an “all or nothing” approach. We get to divide the world up into nice, neat little segments. This segment belongs to Caesar. This one over there—for example, an hour or two on Sunday, with a sensible level of giving—belongs to God.

But you see, I don’t think the Pharisees and the Herodians agreed with the point made by the commentator. That is to say that they didn’t finish the conversation with thoughts of “He gave us a splendid, compromising answer, one with which no one could disagree.” No, the text says that after Jesus’ answer, “they were amazed.”

Some years ago—I know that the time was “pre-pandemic”—I was present for a pastors’ conference at Duke Divinity School. The subject migrated, as often it does at those wonderfully progressive gatherings, to the issue of “the politics of Jesus.” After all, everyone, even Jesus—especially Jesus—has to have political views. Somehow the Matthew 22 passage—our Gospel reading for this week—came up and someone asked Stanley Hauerwas, professor of theology and ethics and resident curmudgeon, who was seated near the front, what he thought about Jesus’ splendidly-worded response.

In his Texas twang, Stanley said something like, “The Pharisees and the Herodians were amazed; it’s just too bad that Christians have not been equally amazed.”

A rendering we will go: you see, I think Stanley’s point is something like this, “With God, there are no loopholes.” That’s why, when I read this passage, I lower my gaze. I feel ashamed. For you see, deep within Jesus’ answer is Truth. There are no loopholes.

What truly belongs to Caesar? What truly belongs to God? Jesus lives the answer to the treacherous question of the Herodians. Freely recognizing that His “own” life is not his own, but rather that it belongs to God, Jesus offers up that life in obedience.

That doesn’t leave Caesar with very much, does it? Oh, to be sure, Caesar can and will take the life of Jesus by means of a violent crucifixion. But, because the life of Jesus belonged to God, and not to Caesar, the emperor’s violence is not the final word.

Each time I read this Matthew passage, I offer up a prayer that God will somehow break through that part of me that longs for compartmentalization, that searches for less than absolutes, that avoids surrender. I think I may be getting better at it, the older I get. Alas, however, I still have far to go. Thank Goodness that Christ is with us as we make our way along the Path.