29th Sunday in Ordinary Time (A)

 Is. 45:1, 4-6; 1 Thess. 1:1-5ab; Mt. 22:15-21

In Leo Tolstoy’s story What Men Live By, Simon, a poor shoemaker, is walking home one cold evening when he notices a man sitting almost naked beside a roadside chapel. Simon himself is poor. He has hardly enough money for his family, and his first thought is very practical: “If I go near him, he may become my problem.” So he walks past. But after a few steps his conscience troubles him. He turns around, gives the stranger his coat and takes him home. Simon’s wife, Matryona, is not delighted when her husband arrives with an extra mouth to feed. Their cupboard is nearly empty. But gradually her anger gives way to compassion, and she shares what little food they have. Then something remarkable happens: the stranger smiles. Tolstoy’s story reminds us that poverty can hide dignity, rags can hide holiness, and an apparently useless stranger can carry a mystery we fail to recognize. The first page of the Bible tells us why: “God created humankind in his image” (Genesis 1:27).

That truth opens the door to today’s Gospel. The Pharisees and the Herodians come to Jesus with a carefully prepared trap. “Is it lawful to pay taxes to Caesar, or not?” (Matthew 22:17). If Jesus says no, he can be accused before the Roman authorities; if he says yes,

he risks alienating people who resent Roman occupation. Jesus asks for the coin used for the tax. “Whose head is this, and whose title?” They answer, “Caesar’s” (Matthew 22:20–21). Then comes the answer that has travelled through the centuries: “Give therefore to Caesar the things that are Caesar’s, and to God the things that are God’s.” 

The coin bears Caesar’s image, so the coin may be returned to Caesar. But what bears God’s image? Genesis has already given the answer: “God created humankind in his image” (Genesis 1:27). The coin carries the emperor’s image; you and I carry God’s image. 

The first reading gives us an extraordinary Old Testament parallel. God speaks about Cyrus, the Persian ruler: “I have called you by your name… though you do not know me” (Isaiah 45:4). Cyrus was not an Israelite king and did not belong to the covenant people, yet God used him within history for the liberation of Israel. Behind Cyrus and behind every earthly ruler stands a greater sovereignty: “I am the Lord, and there is no other” (Isaiah 45:5). Joseph had served Pharaoh faithfully while remaining faithful to God (Genesis 41:39–46). Daniel served foreign kings with extraordinary competence, but when a royal decree demanded something contrary to his worship of God, “he continued to go to his house… and to get down on his knees three times a day to pray to his God” (Daniel 6:10). Scripture does not teach contempt for society or civil responsibility. There are things we owe society, and there are things that can never be surrendered because they belong to God.

St. Thomas More offers a striking example. He served King Henry VIII as Lord Chancellor and took his responsibilities to his country seriously. Yet when the demands of the king came into conflict with what More understood as his duty to God and conscience, he accepted imprisonment and finally death rather than surrender his conscience. The famous words traditionally associated with his final witness summarize today’s Gospel beautifully: he died “the King’s good servant, but God’s first.” Most of us will never face such a dramatic choice. Our choices are often much smaller. They may be money, career, reputation, comfort, popularity, fashion, social media approval or simply the fear of what others will say. None of these is necessarily bad. The problem begins when something that deserves only a coin begins asking for the whole person.

The same truth can appear in much quieter situations. In Dubai, a watchman named Hashim VK found a stranger’s wallet. Instead of keeping it, he used information on a receipt to trace the owner. The wallet contained money, and when the grateful owner offered him the cash as a reward, Hashim refused. He explained that he understood the anxiety of losing something and had returned it because his faith taught him to act honestly. There was nothing spectacular about the incident. No sea was divided, no angel appeared, and no television preacher was required. A man simply found something that did not belong to him and returned it. In his own small way he lived the principle of today’s Gospel: give to another what belongs to another, and give to God the honesty that belongs to God.

The Old Testament repeatedly reminds us that everything ultimately comes from God. The Psalmist says, “The earth is the Lord’s and all that is in it” (Psalm 24:1). When David gathered offerings for the building of the Temple, he prayed, “All things come from you, and of your own have we given you” (1 Chronicles 29:14). That is a wonderful paradox: even when we give something to God, we are returning what first came from him. Job discovered this painfully when the things he considered secure disappeared: “The Lord gave, and the Lord has taken away” (Job 1:21). Jesus’ command, therefore, is about much more than taxes. It asks a deeper question: Who owns my life?

There is another beautiful implication in the image of the coin. A coin can become dirty, scratched and worn, but the image stamped upon it remains. The same is true of human beings. Life can wound a person. Failure can leave scars. Sin can disfigure. Suffering can make someone almost unrecognizable even to himself. Yet the image of God is not thereby made worthless. Mary understood this at Calvary. Before her stood a Son beaten, mocked, crowned with thorns and crucified. Isaiah’s words seem almost to describe him: “He had no form or majesty that we should look at him” (Isaiah 53:2). The crowd saw a condemned criminal; the soldiers saw another execution; Mary still saw her Son. 

This changes the way we look at other people. Every elderly parent, migrant worker, crying child, troublesome neighbour, difficult colleague, lonely person and even the person whose opinions irritate us carries something that no government can stamp and no money can purchase: the image of God. Tolstoy’s Simon initially saw only an inconvenient stranger beside the road. When compassion opened his eyes, he saw a human being who needed him. The Gospel asks for that same change of vision. Caesar’s image tells us where the coin belongs. God’s image tells us how precious the person standing before us is.

So today’s message is: give each one what truly belongs to them. Give society responsible participation; give work an honest day’s work; give another person what rightfully belongs to him or her; give the family presence and not merely possessions; and give God the heart, conscience and deepest loyalty of the human person. 

A coin may carry Caesar’s image. We carry God’s. Caesar can have his coin. Let God have what bears his image—our lives. And when we remember which belongs to which, many of the confusing priorities of life quietly begin to fall into their proper place.

Satish Selvarance