But first a note from Robert Royal: Happy Fourth of July to all our TCT readers. We bring you two important commentaries about our nation on this day. Luis Lugo explains the proper relationship between the things that are Caesar's and those that are not, and the significance of that distinction for all of us. And Michael Pakaluk, drawing on the wise words of Ronald Reagan, reminds us how we might approach the most significant moral question of the current presidential campaign: abortion.

Now for Luis Lugo's column, "Strangers and Citizens."

As Christians in the United States celebrate Independence Day 2024, we are doing so in what is now an essentially post-Christian society. Though we rightly lament our country's move away from Biblical values, especially as secular forces adopt an increasingly militant anti-Christian posture, our present predicament does have one great advantage - it makes us more conscious of the transitoriness of all our earthly loves, including our love of country.

Our situation is not unlike that which the Church experienced during the first three or four centuries of its existence, when it lived in the midst of a pre- rather than a post-Christian culture. That's why the theme of exile loomed so large in those early days. St. Peter, for example, urged his readers to live as "sojourners and exiles." (First Peter 2:11) And St. Paul explained to the Church in Philippi why this is so: because "our citizenship is in heaven." (Philippians 3:20)

We are told that those great heroes of the faith inscribed in the eleventh chapter of the Epistle to the Hebrews all had this in common: they "acknowledged that they were strangers and exiles on the earth;" as pilgrims, they desired "a better country, that is, a heavenly one." (11:13, 16)

This may help explain those strange-sounding salutations we sometimes read in the writings of the early Apostolic Fathers. For example, Clement of Rome's Epistle to the Corinthians, written around the year 100, contains this: "The Church of God which resides as a stranger in Rome to the Church of God which is a stranger at Corinth."

The danger of sacralizing the temporal becomes less of a temptation when the values of the earthly city stand in sharp contrast to those of the heavenly city. Truth be told, when the values of these two realms were much more closely aligned in our own history, we Christians perhaps were too prone to blur the lines between Church and country and rely too heavily on politics to advance a Christian vision of life.

However congenial the previous arrangements may have been, and however rightly appreciative we were for them (grateful immigrants like me, especially), we must acknowledge the temptation of a "God and Country" patriotism to assign an almost quasi-redemptive mission to the United States. As Msgr. James Shea has forcefully reminded us, however, "The Blessed Mother was immaculately conceived, not the American Republic."

As for unduly elevating the importance of politics, we'd all do well to heed the wisdom of the late Chuck Colson's advice to his politically active fellow Evangelicals that "The Kingdom of God does not arrive on Air Force One."

But we must not push this point too far. For the same apostles who addressed the early Christians as strangers and foreigners also reminded them that they were also citizens of their earthly country. St. Paul, for instance, writing in a decidedly pagan context, instructs Timothy: "I urge that supplications, prayers, intercessions, and thanksgivings be made for all peoples, for kings and all who are in high positions, that we may lead a peaceful and quiet life, godly and dignified in every way." (first Timothy 2:1-2; ESV)

It's clear that for St. Paul this did not mean simply being willing subjects. His instructions to Titus, for example, included the admonition that the latter should remind the Christians under his charge "to be ready for every good work." (Titus 3:1) This was essentially the same message that G...