29th Sunday 2023
Isaiah 45: 1, 4-6; 1 Thessalonians 1:1-5; Matthew 22:15-21
Good old Cyrus: I’m glad he gets a mention. During my first six years as a priest, among other things I taught an A-level Ancient History course, the Greek component of which was entitled “Herodotus and the conflict of Greece and Persia”. Cyrus, as a King of Persia, featured prominently. To the Greeks, he was a baddy, as Greece and Persia were enemies: the Jews, by contrast, revered him because, after conquering Babylon in 538 BC, he allowed the Jewish exiles to return to Israel and Judah, and so was regarded as a hero and a benefactor.
The prophet Deutero-Isaiah (second Isaiah) goes further and describes Cyrus as “the Lord’s anointed”—in Hebrew, His “Messiah: in Greek His “Christ”. This is remarkably high praise for a pagan king who, as the prophet admits, did not know the one true God, yet who was used by God as an instrument for the fulfilling of God’s purpose and the benefit of His chosen people.
This shows s a number of things. It reminds us that history tends to be subjective: in other words, it is written from a particular point of view. I have heard, rightly or wrongly, that, in Northen Ireland, for instance, two different versions of Irish history are taught, depending on whether the school is a Catholic or a state school. In England, a number of Education Secretaries have demanded that the British Empire be depicted as glorious and benign: many people view it as brutal and exploitative. I remember being taught about it in term of battles among European powers for control of various territories, with no consideration being given to its effect, good or bad, on native peoples.
So was Cyrus good or bad? It depended on your point of view. For Greeks he was bad: for Jews good, to the extent of his being seen as especially chosen by God.
All of this has a bearing on the Gospel. Jesus’ opponents, we are told, were attempting to trap Him. If He approved of paying taxes to the Roman occupiers, He could be held up as a collaborator, a traitor to His own people. If, on the other hand, He opposed the paying of the tax, He could be reported to the Roman authorities as a rebel. We see again the two viewpoints of history, a situation which, at the expense of a bad pun, we could describe as two sides of the same coin.
Our Lord’s response is a smart one. The coins used to pay the tax bear the likeness and inscription of the Roman Emperor, and so can legitimately be given back to him. The terminology which Jesus uses has, however, been misinterpreted and abused through the ages.
“Render unto Caesar what belongs to Caesar, and to God what belongs to God” has been used by enemies of the Church, and even by some of its members, to tell the Church to keep its nose out of public affairs. The state has its rights, such people will claim, and the Church has no business to interfere. Thus, if the state wishes to behave in a way which is contrary to Church teaching, that is none of the Church’s business: she should limit herself to purely religious affairs.
A particular example of this arose a few months ago. In the wake of yet another school massacre in the United States, Pope Francis called for tighter gun control in that country. There was an immediate outcry from right wing nationalist Catholics in America, accusing the Holy Father of interfering in their country’s politics. Apparently, “render unto Caesar” meant to them that the head of the Church had neither the duty nor even the right to pronounce on matters of human life.
The flaw in their argument is obvious. They are ignoring the second part of Jesus’ injunction “and to God what belongs to God”. Everything belongs to God, including Caesar, and so God’s Church must always stand up for truth and justice. Even the mighty Cyrus became God’s instrument, so even the most isolationist citizens of a modern day republic cannot claim exemption.
Nevertheless, Our Lord’s words do contain a warning: Church and state should not become too closely intertwined. Present day Islamic states such as Iran, Afghanistan, and Pakistan reveal vividly the dangers of theocracies. Too often, the Church has allied herself with oppressive regimes, whether in mediaeval Europe or twentieth century Latin America. Even Ireland, where an Archbishop of Dublin was known to summon the president of the republic and give him instructions on the conduct of public affairs, showed too cosy a relationship, a situation which, largely as a result of abusive behaviour by institutions and individuals within the Church, has been replaced by a massive political and public backlash.
At best, the Church should be a critical friend of the state: at times, criticism must be firm, even at the risk of persecution by the state. Caesar has his rights, but he is not always God’s chosen instrument, and he must be treated with caution, but not left always to his own devices.
