Zealot - The Life and Times of Jesus of Nazareth

the disciples were reminded of the
     words of King David, who cried, “Zeal for your house has consumed me” (John 2:17;
     Psalms 69:9).
    The Temple authorities also recognize Jesus’s zeal and hatch a clever plot to trap
     him into implicating himself as a zealot revolutionary. Striding up to Jesus in full
     view of everyone present, they ask, “Teacher, we know that you are true, that you
     teach the way of God in truth, and that you show deference for no man. Tell us: Is
     it lawful to pay the tribute to Caesar or not?”
    This is no simple question, of course. It is the essential test of zealotry. Ever
     since the uprising of Judas the Galilean, the question of whether the Law of Moses
     permitted paying tribute to Rome had become the distinguishing characteristic of those
     who adhered to zealot principles. The argument was simple and understood by all: Rome’s
     demand for tribute signaled nothing less than a claim of ownership over the land and
     its inhabitants. But the land did not belong to Rome. The land belonged to God. Caesar
     had no right to receive tribute, because he had no right to the land. In asking Jesus
     about the legality of paying tribute to Rome, the religious authorities were asking
     him an altogether different question: Are you or are you not a zealot?
    “Show me a denarius,” Jesus says, referring to the Roman coin used to pay the tribute.
     “Whose image is this and whose inscription?”
    “It is Caesar’s,” the authorities reply.
    “Well, then, give back to Caesar the property that belongs to Caesar, and give back
     to God the property that belongs to God.”
    It is astonishing that centuries of biblical scholarship have miscast these words
     as an appeal by Jesus to put aside “the things of this world”—taxes and tributes—and
     focus one’s heart instead on the only things that matter: worship and obedience to
     God. Such an interpretation perfectly accommodates the perception of Jesus as a detached,
     celestial spirit wholly unconcerned with material matters, a curious assertion about
     a man who not only lived in one of the most politically charged periods in Israel’s
     history, but who claimed to be the promised messiah sent to liberate the Jews from
     Roman occupation. At best, Jesus’s response has been viewed as a milquetoast compromise
     between the priestly and zealot positions—between those who thought it lawful to pay
     the tribute to Rome and those who did not.
    The truth is that Jesus’s answer is as clear a statement as one can find in the gospels
     on where exactly he fell in the debate between the priests and the zealots—not over
     the issue of the tribute, but over the far more significant question of God’s sovereignty
     over the land. Jesus’s words speak for themselves: “Give back (
apodidomi
) to Caesar the property that belongs to Caesar …” The verb
apodidomi
, often translated as “render unto,” is actually a compound word:
apo
is a preposition that in this case means “back again”;
didomi
is a verb meaning “to give.”
Apodidomi
is used specifically when paying someone back property to which he is entitled; the
     word implies that the person receiving payment is the rightful owner of the thing
     being paid. In other words, according to Jesus, Caesar is entitled to be “given back”
     the denarius coin, not because he deserves tribute, but because it is
his
coin: his name and picture are stamped on it. God has nothing to do with it. By extension,
     God is entitled to be “given back” the land the Romans have seized for themselves
     because it is
God’s
land: “The Land is mine,” says the Lord (Leviticus 25:23). Caesar has nothing to
     do with it.
    So then, give back to Caesar what is his, and give back to Godwhat belongs to God. That is the zealot argument in its simplest, most concise form.
     And it seems to be enough for the authorities in Jerusalem to immediately label Jesus
     as
lestes
. A bandit. A zealot.
    A couple of days later, after sharing a secret Passover meal, Jesus and his disciples
     head out in the dark of night to the Garden of Gethsemane to hide out among the gnarled
     olive trees and the quickset shrubs. It is here, on the western slope of the Mount
     of Olives, not far from where, some years later, the Roman general Titus would launch
     his siege of Jerusalem, that the authorities find him.
    “Have you come out here with swords and clubs to arrest me like a bandit [
lestes
]?” Jesus