God And Caesar

In the April, 1980 Sojourners, Peter Davids examined how the people of God related to the state in the Old Testament and during the intertestamental period. He then addressed Jesus' attitude toward the state. This month Davids concludes his study, focusing on the state as it is viewed in the book of Acts, in the Haustafeln (the "tables of duty" scattered in the New Testament), and in Revelation. --The Editors

The author of Acts describes how the church dealt with governmental structures which were often hostile to the infant community. He makes three points: 1) good and righteous rulers could and should protect the church; 2) the church could use the legal system for its own protection when necessary; and 3) the church's ultimate authority is higher than any human system and thus it ignores the state law when the state attempts to restrict it from doing God's will.

First, the author makes the point that when the church is persecuted the state is acting in a capricious and unjust manner. Paul claimed that his teachings were the fulfillment of Jewish hope and thus fell within the range of options tolerated under both Jewish and Roman law. Every time a Christian was executed or Paul was imprisoned, it was due to an unjust action done to curry favor, a misunderstanding of the true facts of the case, or some similar miscarriage of justice. Whenever a Christian was fairly tried, he or she was exonerated.

Second, it is therefore evident that Christians believed that the state ought to act in their favor and that they were not adverse to using its protection whenever possible. Paul freely claimed the rights of his citizenship, demanded due process, and appealed to Caesar. This picture corresponds with that in the Pauline letters: The state ought to protect Christians. This of course did not mean either then or now that any state or ruler in particular would in fact fulfill this duty, but if the potential were there, the church was ready to use it. In this willingness to use the state, the church treats it like any other worldly object, a created and corrupted institution which can nevertheless be used to forward the service of God.

Third, these attitudes reveal that the state was in no way the ultimate authority for the early Christians. When it could help them they used it as one would a convenient boat to cross a river, but their loyalty was placed elsewhere: They hoped for a coming eschatological state ruled by Christ where true justice would be established. They themselves lived "in" that "state" now by obeying its laws, practicing its alternative economics, and proclaiming its coming.

When their loyalty to God's kingdom clashed with the demands of the empirical state in which they lived, whether Roman or Jewish, they politely ignored the state. Polite they were indeed, using the proper language of deference and respect, but this politeness simply expressed a firm refusal to bow to the state's demands. While the probability of death would lead them to flee to avoid its violence--they had no need to become martyrs--normally when threatened, they prayed for more boldness; when beaten, they rejoiced that God had privileged them to suffer; and when imprisoned, they publicly repeated their "offense" as soon as they were released.

As if this behavior were not infuriating enough to rulers who expected fear and obedience, if not allegiance, the Christians went even further to call down the rulers for their abuses in clear, although formally polite, tones. For this action Peter and John were almost executed and Stephen was lynched. With such critique Paul preached in the synagogues. The death of Jesus and the persecution of Christians were a miscarriage of justice; this was a fact which Christians were willing to declare publicly.

Romans 13:1-7, 1 Peter 2:13-17, Titus 3:1-2, and 1 Timothy 2:2 speak positively about the relationship of Christians to rulers (see also Romans 12:18). They are part of the Haustafeln, or "tables of duty." Before examining these passages in detail, we must first recall a truth which was axiomatic for Paul and his followers: Kings and governors are not the essential rulers of this age, for, as Paul points out in Ephesians 6:12, powerful spiritual beings are the rulers "of this darkness"; that is, "the ruler of the authority of the air" works in all who do not obey the gospel (Ephesians 2:2) and thus controls all human institutions and societies outside the church.

With such a view of the powers behind the state, one could hardly pledge loyalty to it or view it as unambiguously good. Paul was consistent at this point; he was far too aware of the evil rampant in society and of the ability of the state to persecute people out of its own corruption, if not out of ill will, to accept any government as anything more than a partially demonic, although still helpful, institution.

A careful reading of these passages reveals them not to be positive about the state, but to contain precisely that ambiguity. Paul declares that one is to submit to human authorities because they are used by God to perform some good in the world. These authorities, he argues, are "ordered" by God and put in their place to accomplish one task: the punishment of evil and the reward of good.

Peter argues in a similar vein. The point of both of these passages is clear. The authors expect the state to produce public order; the purpose of the state under God is the establishment of this order. The same idea is reflected in 1 Timothy 3:2, where one is instructed to pray for the state "in order that we might lead a gentle and peaceful life in all godliness and piety."

"Being subject" is the response of the Christian to the state, but this subjection under these circumstances is clearly defined; in no way do these authors intend to teach unlimited obedience or even loyalty to the state. First, subjection means shunning violence against the state (one should remember that Paul wrote Romans 13 to Rome, a city which knew of slave revolts and also disturbances among the Jews, who within a decade would be called upon to revolt in support of the war of liberation in Palestine). Paul would have agreed with James, who wrote, "The anger of humans does not produce the righteousness of God," and with the author of Hebrews, who claims that it is God who says, "Vengeance is mine."

This general topic of nonviolence and non-aggression against the state would include obeying such laws as one could obey in good conscience, remembering that even recognized foreign diplomats generally respect the laws of their host country.

Second, "be subject" means for Paul paying customs duties and taxes. Here Paul gives a careful rationale, for a Christian might assume that taxes are a sign of allegiance and citizenship, and since the Christian is in fact a citizen of another kingdom and a subject of a higher king, paying taxes would be inappropriate. Perhaps because the Romans or others were claiming that taxes implied loyalty, Paul disputes such a conclusion on the basis that the state performs a useful function for which it ought to be paid—even Nero's state, even Philippi, where Paul was unjustly beaten and imprisoned (by now Paul had been publicly beaten by Romans at least five times). It is therefore permissible to pay the state for this function by paying taxes. That argument, of course, is a revolutionary statement, for the argument assumes that the state has no inherent claim upon the Christian as a citizen and thus that one needs permission to pay taxes. Furthermore, this argument does not discuss whether all taxes are right to pay, only whether one might pay tax at all.

Third, submission means acting respectfully toward the state and its officials, giving "honor to whom honor is due" and "not slandering" anyone. This action is in part simply the respectful and hospitable behavior Christians ought to exhibit toward all people, even to the extent of blessing rather than cursing their persecutors. It is also in part an acknowledgment that these structures and ranks serve a purpose, even if in an un-Christian manner. Finally it is in part the practical recognition that not to give such "honor" is to invite unnecessary trouble for the church.

But such respectful behavior is not a recognition of the right of the state to rule the Christian or a mark of the allegiance of the Christian to the state. The polite speech may just as well be a respectful but clear "no" to the demands of the state as a "yes." Paul would apologize for an impolite remark (cf. Acts 23:5), but he firmly held to the principle that his allegiance was to God, not to human government, and thus that his behavior could not be determined by the state or the surrounding culture.

Romans 13 and similar passages are anything but a carte blanche for the state. They are recognitions that the state, as well as the Christian, is under the providential order of God and that God in this providence uses the state to create conditions favorable to the purposes of the Christian. These passages, however, do not put their seal of approval on the means the state uses, i.e. violence, nor do they require the Christian to participate in the state (after all, the Christian is the subject of a different king and a builder of an alternative society). But they do call on the Christian to grant limited cooperation to and appreciation for the state.

Paul, then, recognizes that even demonically controlled institutions may serve a good purpose. To this extent, recognition of and cooperation with an institution is possible. But Christians must also realize that their ultimate hope lies in a radical alternative to society, that the kingdom of God can never be reduced to a reform of the world. Thus the ultimate Christian hope is not in the state, not even in a Christian state, but in a greater monarch, a greater justice, and a greater "society," all of which are anticipated in the church.

Revelation sums it up. There, the state is seen as persecutor, which either kills the saints or attempts to lead them into apostasy by co-option (no one can buy or sell without the number of the "beast"). The ultimate power behind the state is unmasked as "the beast," a being who is a servant of the devil himself. The chief enterprises of the state--political, economic, and commercial--all come under judgment as Babylon is destroyed (Revelation 18). The call to the Christian is to come out of her so as not to share her fate (Revelation 18:4). This is hardly a God-and-country theme, despite the fact that the state is the same Rome with which Paul had to deal.

On the other hand, Revelation's view of the state is not entirely negative, for it looks beyond the present state to a kingdom ruled by Christ himself. There, justice and righteousness will truly reign in an order that will break into the present order, defeat it, and replace it. It is to this coming order that the Christian is to be faithful, resisting the present state and its pretensions even unto death.

At this point we must summarize the observations we have made and draw some conclusions.

• In both the New and Old Testaments, God and his kingdom are viewed as the only objects of ultimate authority and loyalty. If the state presumes to demand such allegiance, it must be politely ignored. In the New Testament, the specifically new element is that the people of God transcend national boundaries: Since ultimate loyalty is to Christ and his kingdom, the Christian is therefore more closely linked to a fellow believer on the other side of the globe than to a non-Christian citizen of the country in which the Christian happens to reside. The citizenship (to use Paul's term) of the Christian is in heaven, the kingdom of God.

On earth the Christian is an ambassador of a foreign power or a stranger or a pilgrim, but never a citizen. For the early church this meant that oaths of allegiance to Rome were forbidden, for the state in its oath claimed an allegiance that ought only to be given to Christ. It also meant living as part of a foreign people in one's native land, obeying the rules of an alternative society, and spreading the influence of this "foreign" kingdom. The words "Jesus is Lord" were politically and socially incompatible with the claim "Caesar is lord."

• The state does not simply contain the potential of evil--the core controlling power in the state is evil. Although a theocratic state was used in the Old Testament, there is no trace of it in the New Testament--there is no hope of a Christian state in this present age. Instead, the power behind the state is traced back to "the principalities and powers" or "the prince of the power of the air" or "the beast." Thus allegiance to such a state is really devil worship or idolatry.

This fact also implies that upon close analysis one will discover that both the means and the ends of the secular state are often opposed to those of the kingdom of God. The state operates in terms of power, hierarchy, wealth, and violence; the church operates in terms of submission, unity, sharing, love, and peace. The state cries, "Blessed are the conquerors," while Jesus said, "Blessed are the peacemakers." As a result, the early church found service in the state apparatus an unfit vocation for professed Christians. Common soldiers were accepted into the church on the basis that they not kill (many soldiers were firemen, police, civil servants, or honor guards, so this was not an impossible demand), but no one was allowed to enlist who was already a Christian, nor were officers accepted into the church unless they resigned from the military.

• In both testaments the state is seen as providing services to the people of God. Because of this function in preserving public order, the Christian is called to cooperate with the state in areas where that is possible. This means primarily praying for good public order, avoiding revolution, paying at least some taxes, and acting respectfully toward the state and its institutions. None of these actions was to be interpreted as implying some type of allegiance, nor was respectful behavior intended to rule out a polite refusal to cooperate.

The early church applied this teaching quite literally. They did indeed "mind their own business" of being a church (which included setting up and disciplining their alternative society, including extensive actions of sharing and charity towards both Christians and pagans), but, as Tertullian claimed, they were also "model citizens," so long as one did not expect them to be involved in oaths of allegiance, civil ceremonies, or the military. Christians, he claimed, were never in court for any reason other than for being Christians. What is more, unlike their pagan neighbors, they scrupulously paid their taxes. They did indeed form a counterculture, but they felt no need to use any form of violence to pull down the old; it would collapse of its own weight and inner contradictions.

• The Scriptures also witness to a call of God to some of his people to unmask the evil of the state, whether as an Old Testament Amos or a New Testament John. This dangerous and often unpopular calling produces individuals who herald the need for repentance for both peoples and individuals and who guide the church away from the danger of supposing that an allegiance with the state might be helpful or its methods practical for reaching the goals of the church.

• Finally, throughout Scripture there is the hope, indeed the confident expectation, of a new state. That will be a truly theocratic state ruled by God and his Christ in person. In it all evil will be expelled, justice will be the rule, and love will be the law. In that government, service, not rank, will be the mark of greatness. Violence and greed will be gone forever. This hope is not simply a hope, for the church on earth witnesses to it as its experience in part as the church participates in a foretaste of that society, imperfect as that foretaste is, within its own ranks.

A Christian is committed to Christ and to the biblical revelation of him. A totalitarian state which claimed to be a true monarchy would present a situation so similar to the biblical setting that one's response would be nearly identical to that of Christians in Scripture: Some would be called as prophets; most would simply be called to discern where proper subjection ended and resistance in the name of Christ began. The church would be a counterculture attempting to live peacefully within the state. Its main clash with the state might be over service in the military (or perhaps taxes to pay for the military), for naturally a Christian can no more justify service in the military now than the early Christians could then. This situation appears simple: just read the Bible. Unfortunately, few if any of us live in it.

The modern age has some real differences from the Roman situation which call for creative adaptation of the biblical message, although in conformity with its spirit. Two of the most important of these are the advent of "democratic" government and the rise of the nuclear threat.

The main issue faced in "democratic" government is that it claims to represent the people, including the Christian. Thus the modern Christian is in a different social setting than a society which makes no claims to include the people in government. In this "representative" situation, it seems legitimate for Christians to try the claims of the democratic ideal and to request the government to truly represent their point of view; to use such means as are legitimate (at least in theory) within the society to try to change it in behalf of justice; and to point out where the society fails to do what it claims, to unmask hypocrisy and falsehood (this latter being part of the prophetic calling in any society).

There appears to be two opposite dangers in this situation. On one hand, one may be taken in by the claims of democracy which are made on behalf of the government. The society is then declared to be "free" or to truly represent the interests of the kingdom. The definition and philosophical basis of such terms as "freedom," "liberty," "justice for all," and "equality" remain unexamined. Instead, the church perceives the land as "Christian" at least in its core ideals. It therefore declares its loyalty to the nation and justifies its system of government as willed by God. Its only criticism of government is in the name of revival or renewal or return to first principles, not restoration, deep repentance, and revolution (in the biblical sense). Here the church has forgotten that all governments and systems are controlled by the principalities and powers; none are Christian. The church has become co-opted by the country's own myth about its origins and destiny. It is usually the case in such situations that the church is being used by some political interest within the country, and the church appears to profit from this symbiosis.

On the other hand, one may react against the hollow claims of democracy and turn in disillusionment to anger, bitterness, or even violence. Even the legitimate rules of the society may be broken as a form of protest. Prophetic demonstration turns into either violence or self-concern. Here not only have respect for the office and submission in legitimate areas been forgotten, but the law of love is being broken in an absolute polarization which forgets that we also are sinners. This action forgets that the worst tyrant is to be loved, if perhaps he will turn and repent. To turn the evildoer into an object is a mirror of the tyrant's evil in turning the poor and oppressed into objects.

Love is indeed not a soft ignoring of the evil, but takes voice in clear, even strident, but respectful protest. Yet where the language of insult and abuse is present, the church has left its own loyalty to the kingdom and destroyed the possibility of preaching the gospel to the oppressor. Usually upon analysis one discovers that in such a case a worldly ultimate solution is being sought by the church. In other words, the church has been co-opted by the secular counterculture, whose method is often violence, whose rules are a secular vision or "-ism," and whose end is naturally solely within the sphere of the material and psychological realities of this age.

The church has then forgotten that it is a witness to a coming reality and must embody this reality before the world. Its loyalty is not to a secular Utopian vision, but to an embodiment of Christ and to the return of the exalted Jesus. The church's witness must be given in the spirit of its King; nor must anything less than the coming kingdom be baptized in his name.

Both of these alternatives take the world and Caesar too seriously; both believe that this world will not pass away. The one clings to the present order and hitches its chariot to the star in office. The other looks to the coming, but still secular, order, and longs for the rising star of the revolution. Yet the church is not called to worship the stars, but the Son.

The second important issue of the modern age is the nuclear threat. It would not do to claim that previously wars were nice: Sherman's statement that a crow would need to take its rations when flying over his area of operations is all too descriptive of war in general in all ages. Throughout the ages men have been tortured and slaughtered, women have been raped and enslaved, and children have starved. But in nuclear warfare we poison a hundred generations with the waste alone; we threaten to wipe out humanity. No bird will sing after a nuclear blast.

In this situation Scripture counsels us to discriminate carefully. Obviously if there was reason not to be in the Roman army, to avoid its violence, how much more imperative is that now? How can the church allow within it those pledged to Caesar and his destructive ways? Likewise one may question the duty of paying taxes. Jesus, Paul, and the early church had less trouble in paying some taxes to Rome (which were, we admit, largely military taxes), but they could see even that oppressive order as contributing to the staving-off of chaos.

The pax romana was not nice, but it was better than robber bands and the constant wars of petty city-states. The military then was basically a police force. Yet is it not possible now that support of the military contributes to chaos? Is it not true that now one is not paying for a service done to God (even if unwittingly), but for a disservice, for the hell of Revelation's worst judgments? It should be clear that it does not do simply to quote Paul as if the nuclear situation and the modern state were no different than the Roman occupation forces.

Yet even the nuclear situation can be taken too seriously. If the worst the bomb can do is kill us, it is not the ultimate evil: "Fear not them which kill the body...." Christians do not look for eternal life in this world nor for the reformation of this order: We look for a coming order. Thus the chief protest of the nuclear madness of our age is the celebration of the coming order in the shadow of the bomb. We celebrate Christ. We live as servants to one another. We rejoice in hope; we live in love. Indeed our very love for those building and deploying the bombs is a sign of their futility: You are bent on death, even our death, but we refuse to be co-opted by hate; we dare to love you. Thus we return again to the eschatological call to be part of the coming age and to let its life in us now relativize all the values of this age.

Christians are called to a coming kingdom, to live out in this life the values of a future age. The world will try to reduce them to hate and anger. Even if it cannot snuff out their protest, at least it will try to poison that protest. The call is clear: However difficult the times, however complex the situations, however long the road, whom will we serve? Christ or Caesar?

Peter H. Davids was associate professor of Biblical Studies at Trinity Episcopal School for Ministry in Ambridge, Pennsylvania when this article appeared.