Taxes, Jesus and Art: A Christian Call to Keep Eyes on Jesus

The Tribute Money by Masaccio, c. 1424. (Photo: Public Domain via Wikimedia Commons)

Here’s a story for you. One day, I was worrying about money and taxes, and I shared my troubles with my brother over the phone. He told me he was on his way into Mass and would call me back when he got out — and he did. The Gospel reading that day? Matthew 17:27, the story of Jesus and his disciples needing to pay the temple tax. Jesus tells them to cast a line into the sea, and in the mouth of the first fish they catch, they will find a coin — enough to pay it. My stress vanished immediately. I just needed to find a fish…

Mind you, Jesus could have used anything to pay this tax. "Hey Peter, what's that behind your ear?" Or, "Look under your shoe.” Or even simply, “I have the exact amount in my pocket ready for the occasion.” But he didn’t. In a gesture almost as intimate as “Put your finger into my side, and believe,” Jesus spoke into the very history of his disciples. He used the work of their hands — the familiar labor of catching fish — to reveal his glory and to provide for them.

Masaccio is regarded as one of the first great painters of the Italian Renaissance and had a profound influence on the development of early Renaissance painting. In his image, The Tribute Money, notice how he lights the scene: Christ is surrounded by light and by the rich colors of the disciples’ garments, while darkness lingers at the edges. Our attention is drawn immediately to Jesus at the center of the composition. Masaccio reinforces this focus through linear perspective, which guides the eye directly toward Christ. Although he did not invent linear perspective, he was among the first to employ it with such clarity and purpose in painting.

The narrative unfolds almost in real time. At the center, the tax collector approaches to demand the tribute, and Christ directs Peter to the sea. To the left, Peter draws the coin from the mouth of the fish; to the right, he fulfills the command by paying the tax collector.

All the decisions Masaccio makes in this fresco draw us more deeply into the meaning of the Gospel passage. Why place such strong shadows over Peter as he retrieves the coin from the mouth of the fish? Why surround him at that moment with barren trees, away from the warmth and light centered on Christ?

Peter’s work as a fisherman was not bad work. There was nothing inherently wrong with it. But he is now called to be a “fisher of men.” Masaccio seems to suggest that this involvement with money and fish belongs to the past. Peter is a new creation in Christ now. A child of the living God.

Jesus deepens this point when he asks Peter:

“From whom do the kings of the earth collect duty and taxes — from their own children or from others?”

“From others,” Peter answers.

“Then the children are free,” Jesus says to him.

In this exchange, Christ reveals their identity as children of God under the care of the Father.

Peter then hands over the money in the shadows, with the look of a child who has just learned something weighty and transformative.

Only Christ knows Peter’s heart, but it is not difficult to imagine his struggle in this new way of life. Peter comes across as a man shaped by labor — accustomed to long hours, physical strain and the relentless demands of his trade. One can imagine in him either the steadiness of a disciplined worker or, at times, the restlessness of someone who struggles to step away from it. Perhaps he needed to reach into the muck of the mouth of that fish, robe cast aside, hands and knees in the dirt, to realize that the things of this world — while good in themselves — are ultimately just that: things of this world. They have no power over him anymore. Just as the Israelites spent forty years in the desert shedding the imprint Egypt had left on their souls, Peter’s conversion, too, would have unfolded over time. This moment would have been a memorial stone for him.  

My money troubles passed like most troubles do. They come and go now as quickly and as reliably as the tide. The older I get, the more I find myself drawn to the warmth and color of Christ than to the business of pulling coins out of the mouths of fish. I believe in hard work just like the next good American, but we must remember that we are children of God and that his children “walk as children of light,” not in the darkness that lingers on the outskirts.

May we live by the words, “Render therefore unto Caesar the things which are Caesar’s; and unto God the things which are God’s” (Matthew 22:21) and be reminded daily that we are being taken care of.