Today’s gospel, in which Jesus’ enemies, who therefore are our enemies as well, try to entrap him by asking whether they should pay tax to Caesar or not, is often read as making a distinction between politics and religion. There is Caesar’s world and that of God. The Church should keep out of politics and stick to spirituality, but happily for us, the two are inseparable, and even Andy Burnham wants a go at choosing Bishops, so I suggest that the bishops choose the next PM, at least Bishops tend to hang on for longer than Prime Ministers. All of this is to misunderstand what Jesus is saying. Every human being is made in the image of God and so belongs to God, whether they know it, or indeed like it, or not. For Christians, politics is building the polis, the community, in which God’s own children can live in dignity and happiness, as we await God’s gift of the heavenly city, in which all politics will be finished. Isaiah shows God immersed in the great events of his time, the rise of Cyrus, the Persian ruler who transformed the political map of the Middle East and enabled the exiled Israelites to go home. Religion cannot be reduced to politics, but it has consequences for how we understand the point of politics, and how the eternal city is governed by God for the good of every person who has ever lived. 

So what is this clash between Jesus and his and our enemies about? They give us the clue: ‘Teacher, we know that you are sincere and teach the way of God in accordance with truth, and show deference to no one; for you do not regard people with partiality.’ They contrast two ways of seeing the world: God’s true way, and a human way, in which everything is viewed through the hall of mirrors of wealth and status. Jesus’s -our- opponents are caught up in that human way, speedily producing Caesar’s coin from their pocket, although that image would have polluted them, as they live under his conquering rule and exist by his decision alone. The Herodians especially belonged to the world of wealth and power. They are so blinded that they do not see that the man they are trying to trap is himself the very image of God made human.

If one sees the world through the spectacles of status and money, the poor disappear. Etienne Grieu SJ wrote: ‘A world dominated by competition engages in a formidable task of classification, not only of performances but also of people. Right at the bottom of the chart are those who are not efficient enough. They thus become invisible to others, as they are unable to demonstrate their usefulness in any of the various exchanges we take part in… They also feel humiliated because they scarcely can have the means to say who they are or to make people notice the unique treasure they bear.’ This is picked up by Fr Adolfo Nicolas, when he gave a seminal speech some years ago when he became head of the Jesuit Order and I would like us to see his words as a description of our own community and world ‘“Today all nations are gathered here. However, nations continue to appear. I ask myself today who are these ‘nations’, these non-geographical communities, these human communities which ask for our help: they are the poor, the marginalized, the outcast. In our globalized universe, the number of absolute outcasts is increasing. The outcasts are failing, because in our society there is only room for the great and not for the little ones. All those who are disadvantaged, manipulated, all these are perhaps for us these ‘nations’: nations which need the prophetic message of God. Do not forget the poor: they are our ‘nations’. They are the nations for which salvation is still a dream, a wish. It may be in their midst, but they know it not. And what about the others? The others are our collaborators, if they share this viewpoint, if they have the same heart as that which was given us by Christ. And if they have a heart still greater, and an even vaster vision, then we shall be their collaborators. What matters is the health, the salvation, the joy of the poor."

We are all, in varying degrees, bifocal. Sometimes we are bewitched by the Caesars of our time, the wealthy and the famous, and lose sight of the beauty of those who do not count. Let God’s grace cleanse our eyes of the defilement of status, wealth and position and open them to His word and His Kingdom. In this world of Caesar’s coin, perpetuated by the demands of capitalism and finance, the people living on the street and in tents under the overpasses, seem like aliens from another world. After the Grenfell Tower fire in London when I lived there, there was violence and looting. The people there are no more necessarily saintly than the wealthy in mansions are wicked. But everyone with whom I talked was more concerned with other people who, they claimed, had suffered more. No one put themselves first. There was humour, laughter, and hope for a few days, a week maybe. I felt that my eyes had opened a tiny bit and I saw not destitute victims but people marked with the image of God. I left feeling that if I spent more time in such places, I would see more clearly, clearly enough at least to know that religion and politics must mix, and contain the character of Christ as their foremost mark, and not Caesars, because we will, at the end of our lives, render to God what belongs to Him, and all that is Caesars will remain here, and it is the Kingdom of God we seek, not the Temple of mankind.