Caesar's Portion

If anyone needs proof of the way christian writers lifted passages, including from each other, they might take a look at the biblical episode on the Caesarean tax. The pharisees are out to trip up the savior figure, trying to get him to blaspheme himself, but instead he delivers a lesson on basic civics and good citizenship. 

Mark was the first to present the vignette, then Matthew and Luke copied his words nearly verbatim (John left the episode out). The effect is a kind of iron-clad take on how to exist in the world. Mark writes in Chapter 12:

(13) And they sent some of the Pharisees and Herodians to Him, in order to trap Him in a statement. (14) And they came and said to Him, "Teacher, we know that You are truthful, and defer to no one; for You are not partial to any, but teach the way of God in truth. Is it lawful to pay a poll-tax to Caesar, or not? (15) Shall we pay, or shall we not pay?" But He, knowing their hypocrisy, said to them, "Why are you testing Me? Bring Me a denarius to look at." (16) And they brought one. And He said to them, "Whose likeness and inscription is this?" And they said to Him, "Caesar's." (17) And Jesus said to them, "Render to Caesar the things that are Caesar's, and to God the things that are God's." And they were amazed at Him.*

The passage is striking not just for its parallel structure ("And . . . and . . . and . . . and"); for its democratic ethos ("for You are not partial to any"), for its reminder that factions have tried to catch each other up going back ages, but also for its economy. The author relies on his ancient reader to grasp an existential order in four simple lines. Perhaps that's why moderns encountering the text, not known for their appreciation of subtlety or skills at close reading, overlook the lessons there time and again. 

The classic interpretation of the incident is that Jesus accepts the notion of secular government and citizenship. Taxation acts as an allegory of that realm: paying the tax is akin to respecting its existence and demands. In ordering his followers to submit to the tax he is also instructing them to accept the worldly order, which he sets apart––but doesn't necessarily set in opposition to––the spiritual realm. He advocates a kind of dual citizenship. 

What's striking too is the lack of any snarkiness on Jesus' part. He doesn't say, Render unto Caesar what is Caesar's––that rat. Or: that thug. He doesn't connect the emperor's legitimacy to his pagan beliefs or private life, as Ovid did in The Metamorphoses. He simply says, Do your duty.

Another thing Jesus notably fails to say is, Seize power! Or, Overthrow Caesar! Or, Establish a theocracy. Or, Kick the bums out. Or, god forbid, Drain the swamp. In no way whatsoever, in three of the four gospels, does Jesus demand or even imply that he wants his followers to "own" the government, or, even worse, set up a system in which nonbelievers are forced to abide by christians' rules or ethics. Instead he says the opposite: accept the powers that be and live dutifully in the world. His entire focus is on a purported realm to come, which this world is a training ground for, not in developing worldly power but in learning spiritual values like meekness, poverty, long-suffering, and so forth. Egregious wealth, bravado, retribution, score-settling, fascism, power-grabs, silencing others, and hatred for the poor and outcast have nothing to do with that training. 

And yet not long after the the savior-figure died, if he existed, christians began the process of not just cementing power in the name of Jesus but forcing christianity down the throats of everyone. That power structure morphed into the catholic church, and after the reformation the protestants began to do the same thing, namely scramble for worldly control. Which is to say that for almost two millenniums the world––not just the West––has been subject to a kind of abuse, of power for sure at christians' hands, but mostly of a willful misreading, or amnesia, regarding Jesus ' comments on the civil order. 

It would be hard to imagine a power structure more abusive than that of the catholic church over the centuries, though Trumpism as it's unfolding comes close; he certainly fantasizes he has an old pope's command. For all of his christian supporters, in and out of the government, who repeatedly indicate that they think he's akin to a god who can do wrong I would say go back and reread the book. 

The great advance of protestantism was supposed to be not just universal literacy but the access of each person to the biblical and other texts; that interpretation of written texts was not solely the domain of a clerical class. Given that advance, I wonder why so few actually read the book, or do so with appreciable insight. The tragedy is that it was a revolutionary text in its day, the parameters of which are too many and complicated to limn in a blog post. The savior figure you find there is an exemplar of humility, kindness, and forgiveness––THAT is the genius of the christian texts in the history of ideas. They put an end to the classical honor code and the clamor for revenge, such that they offer a hero who submits to the civic order to the point of allowing himself to be punished capitally, and unjustly. Without protest. Could there be anything more radical, whether or not a person subscribes to those values?

One wonders where they are today. Instead the prechristian honor code has reasserted itself among christian nationalists as though the christian texts never existed. Acceptance of Caesar's portion has morphed into his overthrow. The goal seems to be to outdo Caesar in raw, bare-knuckled, and irrational power.

If there's an upside to copy-cat writing, as the gospels show, it's the ability to reiterate or underscore a literary theme. For that reason it's all the more remarkable that the mirrored passages about the Caesarean portion get so broadly ignored.

*American Standard Bible, La Habra, CA: 1973. p. 74.