Jesus' words about taxes ('tribute') paid to the emperor are often taken as a demand for complete submission to any authority, one element of which is the careful payment of all required taxes. Yet in the Gospel story the question is framed somewhat differently. It is not about whether taxes must be paid at all; the discussion is about whether it is permissible to do so.

The point is that in those days in Judea there were supporters of extreme, essentially extremist views of Roman power and of any secular power in general. These were the so-called Zealots - or, in Russian, 'the zealous ones.' They believed that the messianic uprising had to begin as soon as possible, and that it had to be directed first of all against Roman rule, since Judea was then part of the Roman Empire, and then against every other secular authority as well, including the authority of Herod the Tetrarch, who then ruled in Galilee.

Since rule in Judea at that time was hierocratic and power belonged to the high priest, this situation remained on the whole acceptable to the Zealots. But the Roman procurator in Jerusalem was a constant irritant to them, as were the Roman soldiers who walked, even if not often, through the streets of the holy city, together with the tax collectors, who naturally worked first of all for Rome. These Zealots believed that paying taxes was impious, that it was treason against God and the true faith as they understood it.

Meanwhile, in Roman eyes a direct call to refuse to pay taxes was equivalent to a call to disobey authority and rebel; it was treated as treason, with all the consequences that followed. So the question asked publicly of Jesus was plainly provocative. The Savior answers it in a somewhat unexpected way: He says that the question of taxes has no direct relation to spiritual life. Whether the emperor receives the money due him or not is a question of this world; for the Kingdom it has no significance. By not paying a tax, a person does not come closer to the Kingdom, just as he does not come closer to it by being the most careful taxpayer. Taxes, like economic and political issues in general, matter only insofar as they in some way affect a person's spiritual condition; everything else is secondary.

This was the Savior's answer to those who believed that the Kingdom and its establishment were a political question, not a spiritual one, and that the Kingdom would be built according to the laws of this world. Jesus reminds them once again: although the Kingdom enters our fallen world, it does not exist according to that world's laws, and taxes have no more relation to it than all the other institutions of the fallen world.

Today's passage is devoted, as we will soon see, to the theme of Tradition and to how differently different people can make use of it depending on their intentions. This passage consists of three dialogues that the Savior conducts with different interlocutors.

The first of them (vv. 13-17) is plainly provocative in character. The question of whether it was permissible to pay taxes to the Roman authorities, under whose rule Palestine then was, was usually raised by representatives of the most radical part of the Synagogue of that time, whom the Gospel calls "Zealots," that is, "the zealous." These people held views of the Kingdom of God not very different from those that were generally accepted in the times of Joshua and the Judges. For them, the Kingdom of God and Roman power in Palestine were incompatible things. They considered armed struggle against Roman rule a religious duty for every believing Jew, and the payment of taxes to Roman authority a violation of the Law. To all that has been said, one need only add that all who looked at things less radically, even if they were their fellow believers, were considered by the Zealots to be apostates and enemies of the faith, deserving death. The question about taxes, asked of Jesus publicly, in a crowd where both Zealots and secret agents of Roman power were certainly present, placed the One answering in an obviously losing position: to answer "yes" meant bringing upon Himself the wrath of the Zealots; to answer "no" was equivalent to a state crime in the eyes of the Romans, for under Roman laws public calls to refuse payment of taxes to the lawful authority were treated as rebellion.

The second question (vv. 18-27) most of all resembles a problem from a theology textbook, or one of the traditional "hard questions" of its time that opponents of faith in the resurrection used against believers. Of course, to this question, as to all similar questions in all times, there existed an answer, and perhaps more than one, well known to everyone who had received the corresponding education. But what was known about Jesus was precisely that He had not studied theology, and it was all the more interesting to those asking the question what this, as it appeared to them, ignorant man from Galilee would answer.

The third dialogue (vv. 28-34) was caused, evidently, not by a desire to catch the Teacher in His words, but by a real desire to understand what He thought about the Law. Apparently the questioner understood that this astonishing Man truly had to understand something important and central in the Law, and he wanted to learn what it was. And Jesus, in reply, refers him to those traditional answers that were perfectly well known to the questioner himself. It is interesting that in this answer only the first part, speaking of love for God, has a direct correspondence in the text of the Law (Deut. 6:4-5). The second part of the commandment is a formula of rabbinic tradition that in Gospel times had already become generally accepted. And in this case Jesus confirms Tradition by His own authority.

In neither the first nor the second dialogue does He do this. Of course, in these cases too the questioners appeal to Tradition, but here the matter evidently has more to do with abuse of Tradition than with relying on it. This is no surprise: authentic Tradition always reflects the experience of real, living communion with God preserved in the memory of the community. But if the goal turns out not to be communion with God but something else, for example the desire to catch an opponent in his words or to assert oneself at the expense of one's interlocutor, the spirit of Tradition disappears, and only its empty, dead form remains, giving nothing except support for equally empty, dead religiosity and human pride.

Today's passage is very popular with tax inspectors: it is usually cited as proof that taxes must be paid, that the Savior Himself requires this of us. Meanwhile, the text of the passage says nothing about the necessity of paying taxes. The question is not whether they must be paid, but whether it is permissible to do so.

Such a way of putting the question may seem strange, but in Judea in the Gospel era there were people who considered anyone an apostate who cooperated in any way with the Roman authorities, whom they regarded as occupying forces. And paying taxes, from their point of view, was naturally a form of such cooperation. Of course, we are speaking of representatives of marginal, essentially extremist movements, supporters of holy war, of whom there were nevertheless not so few in Judea at that time.

And the question was unquestionably provocative: to answer it positively meant appearing in the eyes of the radicals as a collaborator; to answer it negatively was the same as a call to revolt, with all the consequences that followed. With "one's own" people the principle was, "you do not ask, and we do not answer," but Jesus, plainly, was not "one of their own" for those who were questioning Him.

And He answers the question in a completely unexpected way, throwing off those who wanted to throw Him off and entangle Him. The meaning of the parable of the denarius, and it is indeed a parable, is quite clear: the Kingdom is not defined by social realities and is not acquired on the paths of political struggle. If the imperial authorities receive their taxes, that fact changes nothing for the Kingdom. Paying taxes is irrelevant to the Kingdom, because the Kingdom cannot be bought with money, or by submission to earthly authorities and human laws. Nor, for that matter, by refusing to submit to those authorities and those laws.