AT THE DAWN of the American experiment, Benjamin Franklin wrote, *“Our new Constitution is now established, and has an appearance that promises permanency; but in this world nothing can be said to be certain, except death and taxes.” The governance by government always has layers of bureaucracy, and each of them and all of them together exact heavy tributes from its subjects.
When the elders of ancient Israel came to Samuel and asked for a king “such as all the other nations have” (1 Sam. 8:5), he warned them, “This is what the king who will reign over you will claim as his rights.” (1 Sam. 8:11) And then Samuel tells them all the ways in which the king will exact taxes and tribute. “He will take your sons and daughters. He will take the best of your fields and vineyards and olive groves. He will take a tenth of your grain, your flocks, and you yourselves will become his slaves.” (1 Sam. 8:12-17)
This is an historical truth of all forms of earthly government. It is a burdensome fact of life now, as it was in the time of Jesus. The question we must answer is the one that forces us to choose a king—someone to rule over us. It seems odd to us, as first-world citizens of the twenty-first century, to think in terms of king and subjects. We are used to the idea of democracy, and the illusion of free will. And, certainly, we are used to death and taxes.
In one of the bible stories, Jesus addresses these concerns and issues, and calls us to think differently than our current perceptions. At the time this event takes place, Israel is in thrall to Rome as a vassal state with Herod Antipas as the ostensible king, and had to pay taxes both to Herod and to the Roman Emperor. But the Jewish religious establishment, the Sanhedrin council led by the secular Sadducees, also held powers of taxation over the people. The cumulative tax burden was crushingly oppressive.
Jesus and his disciples had been ministering for perhaps two years or more by this time, with much of that activity around the Sea of Galilee. They arrive at Capernaum, the shore of the lake furthest from Jerusalem, and here they are accosted by religious representatives who query Peter, “Doesn’t your teacher pay the temple tax?” (Matt. 17:24) The question implies a serious potential accusation. Jesus had already fallen into disfavor with the religious establishment, who consider him a heretic and a minor threat to their authority. Peter quickly responds, “Yes, he does.” (Matt. 17:25) The “two-drachma temple tax” (Matt. 17:24) demanded of each adult citizen is roughly equivalent to two denarii, corresponding to two days wages for a common laborer.
The scene shifts to the house they are all staying in at Capernaum. Jesus, either by having witnessed the previous exchange, or perhaps by supernatural insight, has knowledge of Peter’s recent encounter. Given what transpires next, it may be the latter. He asks, “What do you think, Simon? From whom do the kings of the earth collect duty and taxes—from their own children or from others?” (Matt. 17:25) We cannot know, but can reasonably speculate that Peter is upset about the tax. He’s been a working man all his adult life, but since Jesus called him away from his vocation as a fisherman it is evident that his income has suffered. Matthew records elsewhere another conversation between Peter and Jesus, as Peter says, “We have left everything to follow you!” (Matt. 19:27) Here, in this story, Jesus is pushing Peter into new patterns of thought, helping him to gain control over his anxiety about security and sufficiency. We don’t know how long it takes Peter to answer, but his answer is clear in regards to his knowledge of upper-class privileges. “‘From others,’ Peter answered.” (Matt. 17:26a) Jesus immediately responds, “Then the children are exempt.” (Matt. 17:26b)
If the story stopped here, it would merely be a reality check for Peter. Kings and their children have privileges that subjects do not. That’s just the way it is, Peter, and nothing can be done about it. Grumble if you must, but pay the tax you shall, whether you want to or not. But the story hasn’t ended, and instead Jesus tells Peter, “But so that we may not cause offense, go to the lake and throw out your line. Take the first fish you catch; open its mouth and you will find a four-drachma coin. Take it and give it to them for my tax and yours.” (Matt. 17:27) We picture Peter at the lake shore, staring at a fish that will be for dinner, and holding a coin in his gnarled hand. His posture is still, it is only his brow that repeatedly tenses and releases that tell us that something inside him is struggling for comprehension.
It is the same answer we struggle to find. Scripture tells us that God is providential. Jesus teaches this. “Do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink. Your heavenly Father knows that you need them.” (Matt. 6:25, 32) John tells us that we become children of God through Jesus. “To all who did receive him, to those who believed in his name, he gave the right to become children of God.” (John 1:12) If God has a kingdom, then he must be a king; if we are his children, then we are the child of a king—and “exempt from taxes.” (Matt. 17:26b)
Jesus propels us, just as he did Peter, to grapple with new patterns of thought and possibility. “Seek first his kingdom and his righteousness,” says Jesus, “and all these things will be given to you as well.” (Matt. 6:33) It becomes a matter of properly ordering our priorities. We are tax-free in God’s kingdom, and his kingdom supersedes the kingdoms of earth. The taxes due for our citizenship in his kingdom have already been paid by Jesus, and death has been abolished. We are eternally free of death and taxes.
Q. Where is my primary citizenship?
*Benjamin Franklin, “Letter to Jean-Baptiste Leroy’”– 11/13/1789.
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