In 63 BC, the Roman general Pompey conquered Palestine, ended the Hasmonean State and brought Palestine into the Roman Empire. They proved to be a tough bunch of occupiers, known for their efficient yet brutal management of the areas they conquered.
To the Jews they were religious heathen – they worshipped other gods; gods whose worship shaped a culture that was completely antithetical to their God and his desire for his people.
Politically, they were enemies; foreign masters. It would probably be understatement to say that the Jews did not like them. Most Jews seemed to just put up with them but many took an active role in trying to get rid of them.
But not, as our gospel reading shows, Jesus.
Capernaum was a modest village as Galilean villages go: About 1,500 inhabitants. It was sited in a rich agricultural area right on the Sea of Galilee, with very productive olive groves, fruitful agriculture and abundant fishing.
But it was important to the Romans; strategically located on the Via Maris, the ancient major highway linking Egypt to Asia; it was the way every army throughout history moved into and out of this part of the world.
And at this particular time merchants from all over the Roman Empire paid tolls and taxes here, as they traveled the Via Maris by this village with their caravans of goods and spices.
So it was a busy, prosperous little village, a bit metropolitan in flavor, with quite a bit of money changing hands in business and taxes. And the Romans were present to collect the tolls and maintain the peace. This was the centurion’s post.
There at Capernaum was a detachment of probably 80 Roman soldiers of the VI Legion, the Ferratta or ironclad legion, under the command of this centurion. He was the equivalent of a company or battalion commander, a captain or major.
The Greek statesman and historian Polybius (c200-118 BC) wrote: “In choosing their centurions the Romans look not so much for the daring or fire-eating type, but rather for men who are natural leaders and possess a stable and imperturbable temperament, not men who will open the battle and launch attacks, but those who will stand their ground even when worsted or hard-pressed, and will die in defense of their posts.”
Centurions were known for their strength, stamina in battle, and bravery. They were the best of the best in the Roman army but this Roman centurion was a bit unique. He seems to have settled in a bit – gone a bit native as some would say. He might not have been a convert to the Jewish faith, but he certainly had more than a passing interest. The texts say he loved the Jewish nation, and thus its religion. He was drawn to it, probably studied it.
What was it that drew him?
Was it the more personal aspect of the Jewish God? This god communicated with his people; they had written scriptures attesting to centuries of that communication.
He personally led them, spoke to them, let them know his will. This god was involved with these people – he was invested in these Jews. This Jewish god expressed care, even love, for the people who joined themselves to him.
Was it that this Jewish god was not arbitrary like the many gods of the Roman pantheon? This god had a plan for these people, he led them for a purpose: That others would come to know their God.
Might it have been the moral and ethical aspects of this faith? A believer in this Jewish god was expected to own and reflect the moral characteristics of this god, to be holy. This religion seemed to elevate them above the behaviors and lifestyles acceptable to Roman society. That made them somehow more: Human? Better people?
One might surmise that being a Roman, and being a centurion, somehow was just not enough for him.
This centurion was remarkable in that the Capernaum Jews thought so highly of him. A centurion was very well paid, and that he would invest his earnings to build the synagogue there, spoke of more than a passing interest in this Jewish god and his religion. He was investing himself in this god and his people.
Not so many days ago a number of us stood on that site, walking by the ruins of this village, gazing at the thick black basalt foundation that would have been the floor of the building he purchased for this monotheistic religion that so captured his mind and soul.
It was this investment of person, and possessions, heart and mind that tuned him no doubt into this wandering rabbi of whom so many were speaking.
The text says he heard about Jesus. As people traveled along this highway, they no doubt brought the stories. He had heard rumors of miracles done by his hands in distant villages: blind receiving sight, lame able to walk, maybe even someone raised from the dead.
And just recently crowds of people had been up on the hill just to the north a mile or so, listening to him speak about things that seemed to touch the soul; talking about being blessed.
But they were strange blessings indeed, blessings not affirming wealth or power or authority – the very things Romans valued – but the blessings of being poor, the blessings of being hungry and thirsty for truth and justice, and the blessings of being hated and persecuted because of following this rabbi yet he promised that these needs will be fulfilled sometime in the future.
Even further, he warned those that already enjoy these things: Wealth, and power, and abundance of food and drink, those comfortable in their culture, that this may be as good as it ever gets. Woe to these he heard it said.
And he talked of mercy and love, and how following him would bring strength and purpose to one’s life like building a house on rock. Well, this is what he was told anyway.
This new fellow must have reminded him of some of those he had heard about: Moses, Elijah, Isaiah. He was doing the same thing they did, calling people to their God, calling them to a new life out of their culture into holiness, demonstrating in prophecy, and miracle, the power of this god in his kingdom.
So when his servant, who was actually more family member than his slave, when he became deathly ill, he reached out to this modern prophet of the God of the Jews expecting something to happen.
He asked Jesus to come. He didn’t command him to come, though he certainly could have. And Jesus did.
He didn’t approach Jesus from a position of power and authority, but humility. He recognized the Jewish view of his Roman identity and had elders from the synagogue he built go to Jesus.
He somehow sensed the spiritual distance between who he was as a Roman, one who is unholy, and who Jesus was as a representative of this holy God. He told him that I am not worthy to have you come under my roof.
And this man of men, this centurion, a man of authority recognized in Jesus a like authority, a greater authority.
Where he can exercise authority over men, Jesus exercised authority over greater things. He states: Only say the word and my servant will be healed.
He recognized Jesus’ authority did not require his presence, his touch, but only his word, a verbal command to the unseen forces that entrapped his friend, entrapped his whole culture and it would be enough.
And it was. And Jesus commended him for his faith.
How do we compare to this centurion? Is being a Roman enough for us in our world? Being immersed and established in our culture here, being comfortable with who we are, what we do, what we have, what we have achieved, is it enough for us?
Is being a Roman, immersed in our American culture, enough? Is that where we find our identity, our security, our hope, and our peace?
Or are we, like the centurion, seekers after more, hungry for the truth of who we really are, hungry to be better than we are – more human as the centurion saw it – loving, merciful, reflecting the God we worship in our lives?
Like him, are we willing to give ourselves to this seeking? Do we study, pray, and invest ourselves: Our time, our
resources in knowing God, and serving his people, and his purpose as he did?
In light of who we are or who we may be, do we recognize the authority of who Jesus is and approach him with humility and respect and reverence?
Do we have a sense of that spiritual distance between us, the distance between perfect and imperfect, holy and sinner a distance he bridges by coming to us so we can know and trust that he cares for us, loves us?
Do we bring our issues to him, recognizing he is God and with a simple word can and does change our lives?
The centurion discovered that Jesus comes to anyone who would have as much faith, as little faith as he had. He is just the kind of person Jesus was calling. Don’t you think he might be a good model for all of us to follow?