Predicazioni/Matteo/Non consegnare a Cesare ciò che appartiene a Dio/English version
Do Not Give to Caesar What Belongs to God
"Render therefore to Caesar the things that are Caesar's, and to God the things that are God's" (Matthew 22:21) is one of the sayings of Jesus most frequently quoted when the relationship between the Christian faith, the State and public life is under discussion. But what does it really mean to distinguish what belongs to Caesar from what belongs to God? This sermon re-reads the famous episode of the coin, showing that Jesus is not creating two separate worlds, one religious and one secular, but acknowledging a real civil authority and, at the same time, its limits. Caesar may have what legitimately belongs to him, but he cannot claim what belongs to God: our conscience, our ultimate loyalty and, in the end, ourselves. A reflection on the lordship of God and of Christ, inviting us to distinguish without separating, and to live every dimension of our existence before God.
Introduction
"Render therefore to Caesar the things that are Caesar's, and to God the things that are God's." Here is one of the sayings of Jesus we probably know best. It has even passed into everyday speech, and it is quoted constantly whenever the relations between religion and politics, between Church and State, between faith and public life, are discussed.
And perhaps precisely because we know it so well, we risk never asking ourselves a very simple question: what did Jesus really mean by those words? At first sight it seems a fairly clear statement: there are the things that belong to Caesar — political authority, the State — and there are the things that belong to God. To Caesar his own things, to God his own.
But is it really that simple? Let us think for a moment of our everyday lives. Our money, our work, our responsibilities in society, our political choices, the way we bring up our children: are these simply "civil" matters, or are they too lived before God? And again: today, when we think of "Caesar", must we think only of the State? We live, after all, in a world in which power is not concentrated solely in national governments. There are great economic organisations, multinationals, financial institutions, technology platforms, groups capable of exerting enormous influence over our daily lives. All of this makes Jesus' question surprisingly relevant. To whom do we owe our loyalty? And, above all, is there anything in our lives that can be considered completely outside the lordship of God?
Notice, however, that Jesus, in the Gospel episode in which he speaks those words, is not delivering a theoretical lecture on the relations between religion and politics. He is answering a trap that had been set for him.
Let us listen to the text in its entirety.
The question of the tribute to Caesar,"Then the Pharisees went out and laid plans to trap him in his words. They sent their disciples to him along with the Herodians. 'Teacher,' they said, 'we know that you are a man of integrity and that you teach the way of God in accordance with the truth. You aren't swayed by others, because you pay no attention to who they are. So tell us then, what is your opinion? Is it right to pay the tribute tax to Caesar or not?' But Jesus, knowing 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. And he said to them, 'Whose image is this? And whose inscription?' They answered, 'Caesar's.' Then he said to them, 'So give back to Caesar the things that are Caesar's, and to God the things that are God's.' When they heard this, they were amazed; and having found nothing to say, they went away" (Matthew 22:15–22).
1. A question built as a trap
Let us begin, then, with the situation in which Jesus found himself at the time.
Matthew tells us that "the Pharisees went out and laid plans to trap him in his words". They were not looking for an answer to a question that sincerely interested them. They were looking for a weapon to use against Jesus.
To achieve their aim, they do something rather remarkable: they bring together people who would normally have had little in common. Pharisees and Herodians belonged to very different camps, and yet they find themselves together before Jesus. People who would ordinarily have had very little in common make common cause when they have a common enemy.
And their instrument is an apparently innocent question: "Is it right to pay the tribute tax to Caesar or not?" Note the wording: they are not simply asking whether it is convenient to pay a tax. They ask whether it is lawful. In other words: is it in accordance with the will of God? Is it morally right? Is it compatible with faithfulness to God to pay a tribute to a pagan emperor who rules over the people of God?
Here we grasp the trap into which they want to make him fall. If Jesus had simply answered, "Yes, it must be paid", he could have appeared as someone who accepted Roman rule without reservation. But if he had answered, "No, it must not be paid", they would have had grounds to accuse him before the Roman authorities. Either answer seemed to compromise him.
Here, however, there is something even more interesting. The question presupposes a certain view of reality: either you are on Caesar's side or you are on God's side. And it is precisely this alternative that Jesus does not accept. He does not say "choose between Caesar and God", but neither does he deny that Caesar has a legitimate authority. Instead he says: "Render therefore to Caesar the things that are Caesar's, and to God the things that are God's".
The temptation, however, has not gone away. It remains the temptation, today as then, to think that one must choose between God and some earthly reality: between God and the State, between faith and society, between Christianity and culture, as though in order to live responsibly in the world the Christian had to leave his or her faith on the doorstep of society. Jesus, however, does not accept this alternative. The Christian does not live in two worlds. He or she lives in one single world: the world created by God. His or her responsibilities differ according to his or her calling, but the Lord before whom all these responsibilities are exercised does not change.
For the moment, Jesus does not yet develop this teaching. He does something much simpler. He asks for a coin. "Show me the coin used for the tax." And here the scene becomes even more interesting. Because Jesus does not take the coin out of his own pocket. It is they who hand it to him. And then Jesus asks the question that will completely change the meaning of the discussion: "Whose image is this? And whose inscription?"
2. The coin that speaks
"Whose image is this? And whose inscription?" Let us pause over this detail. Matthew recounts it almost without comment. Jesus does not need to make a long speech. A coin is enough for him. "Whose image is this? And whose inscription?" The answer is obvious: "Caesar's." The coin bears the image of the emperor and an inscription proclaiming his authority. It is, in a sense, a little manifesto of imperial power.
It is precisely here that we can catch a first irony in the scene. Jesus' interlocutors want to put him in a difficult position over Caesar's coin; but it is they who bring the coin to Jesus. Jesus asks: "Whose image is this?" He does not ask how much the coin is worth, or how much the tax costs. He asks: "Whose image is this?" This question opens up a completely new perspective. Because in the Bible, the image is not an irrelevant detail.
From the very first pages of Genesis we find an extraordinary declaration: "Let us make mankind in our image, in our likeness" (Genesis 1:26). And immediately afterwards: "So God created mankind in his own image, in the image of God he created them" (Genesis 1:27). Here, then, is the contrast that Matthew's text allows us to glimpse: the coin bears the image of Caesar; the human being bears the image of God. Jesus does not spell out this comparison explicitly. He does not say, "Just as the coin bears Caesar's image, so you bear the image of God." But when he puts together "Caesar's image" and "the things that are God's", it is hard not to recall the great biblical theme of the image of God in the human being. At this point the question changes completely. If a coin bears the image of Caesar, it can be given back to Caesar. But if we bear the image of God, to whom must we give ourselves back? This is a far more serious question. Because we are constantly tempted to think of our lives in terms of membership or belonging. But Scripture leads us deeper. Before we are citizens, we are creatures of God. And not simply creatures: bearers of his image. Our fundamental dignity does not come from the State, from the company we work for, from our bank account, from our social position or from the recognition of others. It comes from the fact that we were created by God in his image.
Here, moreover, we also find a criterion for understanding Jesus' words correctly. Caesar may claim the coin, because his image is on the coin. But Caesar cannot claim the human being as though the human being bore his image. The human being bears the image of God. The State, the government, the company, every human institution may have their own authority; none of them can turn that authority into an absolute claim upon the person. The person belongs to God.
In Jesus' day the great political power was Rome. That is why the question concerned Caesar. Today power is more fragmented. We have states, certainly, but also great multinational companies, economic organisations, technology platforms and financial institutions capable of exerting enormous influence over people's lives. The problem arises when a humanly created reality begins to claim a loyalty that exceeds its legitimate function. A company may ask for our work, but it cannot ask for our soul. The State may ask for taxes, but it cannot ask for our worship. No ideology, no movement, no organisation can claim what belongs exclusively to God. Because there is something that does not belong to Caesar. It is we ourselves.
The coin bears the image of Caesar. We bear the image of God. So the decisive question is no longer merely: "What do we owe Caesar?" The question becomes: "What do we owe God?"
3. Caesar has a limit
We have now arrived at the decisive point of Jesus' answer: "Render therefore to Caesar the things that are Caesar's, and to God the things that are God's." Jesus thus acknowledges that Caesar has something that belongs to him. Jesus does not deny the existence of civil authority. But it is precisely that "and" — "and to God the things that are God's" — that sets an impassable limit to Caesar. Caesar has something. But he cannot have everything. He has a legitimate function, but not an absolute authority. His authority is derived and limited. And this principle does not concern the State alone. In our age there are many "Caesars": great companies, organisations, parties, movements, ideologies. They may have a legitimate function, but none of them can become our lord. A company may have our work, but not our soul.
It is precisely here that we can better understand an important question in Christian thought: how should we understand the relationship between faith and life in the world? It is certainly right to distinguish between Church and State, between the family, the economy, education, science and other forms of social life. God, however, has not given all these realities the same function or the same authority.
It follows that to distinguish is not to separate, and above all it does not mean creating a zone of reality in which God no longer has anything to say. The Christian question is not: "Is this part of my life religious or secular?" It is: "How am I to live this part of my life before God?" Politics, the economy, work, culture, the family: each has its own responsibility, but none is spiritually autonomous before God. There are not two worlds. There is one single world: the world created by God and subject to his lordship. This does not mean that the Church should govern the State, nor that the State should govern the Church. It means something far simpler and, at the same time, far more radical: no human authority is autonomous before God. Even Caesar is under judgement. Even Caesar must give an account of himself. Caesar has a limit. And that limit is not set by Caesar. It is set by God.
Conclusion
Let us return, then, to the question we started from: "Whose image is this?" Jesus had a coin before him. On that coin was the image of Caesar. And he said: "Render therefore to Caesar the things that are Caesar's." Yes. Caesar has something that belongs to him. But Jesus adds: "and to God the things that are God's."
Here the question becomes personal. Because we are not a coin. We bear the image of God. Therefore God does not claim only a part of our life. He claims us ourselves. We may therefore render to Caesar what is Caesar's, without ever giving to Caesar what belongs to God. Caesar has an authority, but he is not the Lord. Our ultimate belonging is not to Caesar, nor to a company, nor to a nation, nor to an ideology. We belong to God.
After his resurrection, Christ would say it in definitive words: "All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me" (Matthew 28:18). It is because we know that every human authority is subject to his lordship that we can live fully in the world without granting the world an absolute lordship over us. We can therefore render to Caesar what is Caesar's, without handing over to him what belongs to God. One single life. One single Lord. The whole of our life lived before God.
Paolo Castellina, 8 October 2026