Sunday, October 18 – 29th Sunday in Ordinary Time (A) Basilica of the Sacred Heart: 5 PM Vigil, 10 AM Sunday

“Render unto what is Caesar’s, and unto God what is God’s.” This is a phrase we hear repeated often in the context of Catholic engagement in political and public life. The dilemma that it speaks to is not a new one: we know from today’s

Gospel that this is a question himself had to grapple with, and the Church has continued to do so on through the ages and under various forms of state and governmental structures. It seems that with each passing historical period, we as

Christians are asked – and must ask ourselves – anew: What are my duties to God and to Caesar?

I must admit that this is a question that has implications for me on a personal level as well. Being a lawyer by training (and personality) myself, it is something I reflect on often. My time as a student in the Notre Dame law school was book-ended by two presidential elections, and this year, in the midst of yet another election season, I have found myself in many conversations with colleagues, friends, family, and students about the challenges and responsibilities that Catholics face when engaging in the political life of our country. On at least one occasion, upon finding out that I was a law school graduate, a student has asked me: is that possible? Can you be a priest and a lawyer at the same time?

Clearly, the implication of this line of questioning is whether it is possible to be faithful to God and a citizen of Caesar. And if it is, then how? What does this look like in practice? Or to put it even more bluntly, should faithful Catholics register and vote as Democrats, or Republicans? It is a question that has been asked ad nauseum in recent years, and we might even say has become one of the most significant and visible sources of division in the American Catholic Church today. Can you be Catholic and Democrat? Can you be a Catholic and Republican?

For many of us, the answer seems simple and straightforward, and depends on which side of the political ideological spectrum we fall. And yet, I want to suggest that these questions are not always as straightforward as we’d like them to be. My friends, our Gospel today presents us with a time that Jesus found himself faced with similar politically-driven questions. Perhaps in looking carefully at his response to the religious and political leaders of his time, we too can find a way forward for ourselves, in this moment.

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In today’s gospel Jesus is caught between two parties: on the one hand there are the , who stand firmly against the Roman rule of the Jewish people; and on the other, we have the Herodians, who at the time were loyal to the Roman

Empire. These two groups are leaders of a Jewish people who are also fractured amongst themselves: there were the , who vehemently opposed Roman occupation, while many others had made their peace with it and at times, as in the case of tax collectors, even benefitted from the situation. The question of Roman taxation of the , which was seen as evidence of political subjugation, was a hot- button, partisan, and divisive issue for these groups. It served as a tangible mark of their division and polarization. The Pharisees and Herodians knew this when they approached Jesus that day.

So the leaders of these people want to entrap Jesus; they want to use this issue as a way of forcing him to choose a political side; to in some ways reduce his teachings and message to a political issue. They know that regardless of how he responds, he will alienate a core group of his followers and so be shamed in front of the Jewish people. They begin by flattering him, telling him that they know Jesus is completely free from being bound to others’ opinions of him; that he is truthful and will answer the question honestly and openly. This is a safe place, they assure him: we simply want to know your opinion on a political issue. And so they ask him: Is it lawful for a Jew to pay taxes to Rome, or not?

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If Jesus answers no, he can be accused of political insubordination and treason against Rome, as his answer can be interpreted as a call for political mobilization against the empire. If he answers yes, he will appear to relinquish Israel’s desire for freedom and self-determination and its claim of being a people bound ultimately and only to God. The religious leaders think they have Jesus caught in the perfect trap and it seems like an impossible quandary to those who are witnessing the exchange.

But in his response Jesus exposes the problems of the way they posed the question, as though it is simple, straight-forward, and binary. “Is it lawful, or is it not?”

Yes, or no? Black, or white? Jesus turns the question back around on them, revealing the complexity and lack of imagination behind it. “Whose image is on this coin?” he asks. “Caesar’s,” they reply. “Then repay to Caesar what belongs to Caesar, and to God what belongs to God.”

We might think that Jesus is side-stepping the question, or dodging in a way that we are accustomed to seeing in politics today. Yet Jesus reveals something in this exchange, which was missed by those around him at the time, and which I fear we still often miss today: that as followers of Christ, there is a complexity, and in some ways even an unresolvable discord, when it comes to our spiritual, moral, and political lives. There are few simple, straightforward, black and white answers.

But we do have foundational principles to stand on, which we can draw from Jesus’ words today.

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The first is that Caesar is not God. I think this was true of Jesus’ time and I think it is of ours: that we can often let our politics, our political life, become the ultimate reference and driver in our lives. We allow our party and political affiliations to be the sources of our identity, and to act as the lenses through which we view the world, rather than our identity as , as children of God. We ascribe to politics a kind of hope and faith that belongs to God alone. Put another way, we have one savior: and Caesar is not him. It is helpful to remind ourselves that God remains the central fact of all that is, and the source of all the created world: including our political communities. God will remain long after any government passes away.

A second principle that Jesus gives us today is that not only is Caesar not God, but God is not Caesar. We sadly see this quite often in American political life today, especially during election seasons. We have a tendency to imagine that God is wholly on the side of either political party or candidate: that God is mostly like one party or another, but simply a more powerful and perhaps more “good” version of them. That a stance on a particular political issue, even indispensable and crucial issues, can fully capture and reveal to us the mystery, complexity, and depth of God’s being and plans for the created world and the organization of our social and political lives within it.

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But as Scripture tells us, God’s law is not our law; his thoughts and ways are not our thoughts and ways: they are above them. We cannot comprehend the mystery of his being, which in turn does not conform or map on comfortably to our particular political affiliations. It is part of God’s nature to transcend, which includes the transcending of political ideologies.

Now, it might sound almost as though I am advocating for a disengagement from public life; or suggesting that Christians should not have political identities or affiliations. I assure you, brothers and sisters, that I am not. What I am proposing is that if we take a step back, now and then, and allow the fullness of the Gospel to flood and animate the totality of our lives, we can step out into the political sphere in truly prophetic and transformative ways; both inside and outside of the ballot box.

Today’s gospel reminds us that Jesus does not call us to enter the complexities of public and political life from a position of partisanship, but to do so through a constant commitment to prudence. Prudence, as the Church defines it, is “the virtue that enables us to discern our true good in every circumstance and to choose the right means of achieving it.” Or as we in the Congregation of Holy Cross sometimes put it, prudence entails the “competence to see” the way forward in every situation, and the “courage to act” appropriately.

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When Jesus was presented with the question about the payment of taxes, he might have immediately denounced either or both of the sides of the political divide or condemned the inauthentic posing of the question itself, attacking the character of those who asked it. But he does not. Rather, he shows us the path of prudence, demonstrating that his mission and teachings might inform, but cannot be reduced to, a single particular political issue. He invites us to remember that there is a higher order and an allegiance that transcends our political commitments, and that many political decisions are an act of prudence made by well-formed and well-intentioned consciences.

And in exercising this prudence, Jesus draws from the Spirit of God that lives perfectly within him; the Spirit which enabled him to discern the true good in even the most complex circumstances, and to choose the right means of achieving it. We, too, are called to exercise such prudence when we enter the complexities and ambiguities of our world. But we do not do so alone or simply through our own devices. Jesus sends us the same Spirit to act as our Advocate, our Spirit of Truth, and our guide. The Holy Spirit ministers to our hearts daily by opening our eyes to see and accept God’s presence in our lives, and by giving us the strength to not only pursue God’s will with our whole selves, but to recognize God’s presence in those around us, even those with politics different from our own.

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Because they, too, are our brothers and sisters, many of whom have arrived at their political convictions through similar exercises of judgment and prudence.

Especially in the midst of this divisive and polarizing election season, let us pray that the Spirit of God will grant us prudence and the grace to be a radical witness of solidarity and communion. In doing so we respond to the call of our Holy Father, who challenged us in his most recent encyclical with these words: “Let us dream, then, as a single human family, as fellow travelers sharing the same flesh, as children of the same earth which is our common home, each of us bringing the richness of his or her beliefs and convictions, each of us with his or her own voice, brothers and sisters all.”

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