I’ve been a centurion for several years, and stuck in Palestine for most of them. It’s not a desirable position.
Everybody knows what Palestine and its people are like. It’s amazing how such a small group of people can be so well known across a massive empire like ours, but that’s how it is. And the Jews are known everywhere as trouble.
Many nations and peoples have been conquered by Rome; it’s happened to so many that there’s no shame in it. Most use it to their advantage, accepting the empire’s cultural and societal benefits while complaining about the taxes they have to pay.
The Jews refuse the benefits, rebel frequently, refuse to cooperate in anything – and complain about the taxes as well.
There is no way that they can successfully rebel against Rome, so why won’t they just admit it and quit trying? Can’t they see the benefits of gymnasiums and stadiums, roads and security, technology and development? Any sensible nation can – but not the Jews.
It’s as if they take a perverse delight in refusing to cooperate! They love to act as if they’re holier than anyone else, but then they get into one of their own internal fights and behave worse than we ever do!
Anyway, don’t start me on the Jews. I’ve been here long enough: I know.
Yet I can’t really say “don’t start me”, because it was getting roped into helping with some of their irrational behaviour that prompted me to write a letter to my mother. It’s probably easiest if I just include the copy of the letter that I kept. You can ignore the bits at the start.
Hi Mum,
How are you going? I hope that the neighbour’s baby isn’t keeping you awake so much now, and that you have been able to stop Mrs S from gossiping about you. If she’s still causing you trouble, tell her that I’m planning to visit later in the year and am not happy with what I hear about her. You know, holding the position of centurion can often be useful in getting troublemakers dealt with.
I’m well, but very tired after lots of hard work over the Jewish Passover festival. The Jews always cause the most trouble around their religious feasts, so the governor has to have lots of extra troops stationed in Jerusalem at such times to make sure things don’t get out of hand.
I was there with my men again this year, and I had a very disturbing experience. As you know, I’m not normally into supernatural things. Practical – that’s me. OK, I suppose I am a bit superstitious in my preparations for battle, but I haven’t been in a real battle for years.
Anyway, we were called up from Caesarea to Jerusalem a week before the feast to make sure the troublemakers knew that we were there and in control. Just the normal show of strength that we have to put in place each year.
During that week, there were various disturbances, starting with a man coming into the city riding on a donkey or some such thing. He was quite popular with the people, apparently, but not with the Jewish leaders – I suppose they felt he was a threat to their authority. Anyway, that seemed to settle down without any need for us to interfere, but I believe that he came into the city several times through the week, and there
were some angry scenes in the temple that got the tribune on edge.
Come the last day before the feast, we found out that the Jewish leaders had staged a midnight raid on the Mount of Olives to capture this popular leader. They held an all-night trial of their own and then did their best to convince the governor to execute him. I won’t bore you with all the details, but the result was that early in the morning, Pilate called me to take this man to Herod Antipas on the basis that he was from
somewhere in Herod’s jurisdiction. I took the man – Jesus was his name – with a force of soldiers, and delivered him to Herod’s soldiers. We stood by, waiting and watching. Herod came out to see him, and that was the first indication I had that this man was different from most of the criminals we have to deal with. It was obvious that Herod had been eager to see Jesus – who was apparently quite famous in Herod’s area – yet the man would not answer his questions! I
don’t know, but it wouldn’t surprise me if he could have escaped without any significant punishment if he had just cooperated with Herod.
Somehow, the chief priests and scribes had heard of our mission, and they arrived while Herod was speaking to him.
It didn’t take long for Herod to get angry with him – probably aided by the presence of the chief priests – and his reactions were just what you would expect from one of the Herods. He began to treat the man with contempt and encouraged his soldiers to do the same – not that they needed much encouragement. Still the man did not respond.
Then he dressed the man in a fine garment and handed him back to me and my men. Herod came back with us to see Pilate, and the two of them disappeared into the governor’s offices, suddenly seeming much friendlier than I have ever seen them before.
The next I heard of the whole business was when Pilate called me and told me to get Barabbas ready to be freed. Barabbas! The man was a petty thief who had also been involved in a rebellion, and yet the chief priests wanted him freed in preference to Jesus. What hypocrisy! They accused Jesus of inciting rebellion against Rome, and yet they wanted to free a man who had been involved in an actual rebellion against
Rome! Those chief priests are good company for someone like Barabbas.
After a while, Pilate gathered the whole battalion together and encouraged us to scourge Jesus. Most of the soldiers were quite happy to get involved: trying to supervise the Jews is a frustrating task. It didn’t stop with scourging either – they dressed him in another fancy robe and put a crown of thorns on him, then started hitting him on the head and mocking him, calling him “the King of the Jews.”
Life isn’t always fair or easy, and sometimes innocent people suffer because of pent-up frustrations. This man was an example.
He was beaten and mocked – treated very cruelly – and he responded with silence. He didn’t complain, he didn’t shout, he didn’t try to justify himself. Just imagine what things would be like for you now if you’d never said anything when Mrs S was gossiping about you?
That got my attention, but it didn’t make me admire him.
What did make me admire him was the way he behaved when we actually crucified him.
For a start, his lack of complaining continued, even though almost everybody seemed to be laughing at him. He was crucified between two criminals, and at the start, they were both sneering at him. So were the Jewish rulers, the chief priests, the scribes, the Pharisees and the elders, as well as many other people, including my men.
Then one of the criminals pointed out to the other one that they were getting what they deserved, but that Jesus, so he said, didn’t deserve what he was getting. Then he asked Jesus to remember him when he came in his kingdom. All this honourableness was catching!
Another thing I admired was the way he showed his care for others despite his situation. It seems that his mother was there watching, and Jesus spoke to one of the men who was also watching and told him to look after her. I’m not sure that I could worry about you if I was being crucified, Mum!
There were also two strange phenomena while he was on the cross: first, it went dark for three hours before he died, and then when he did die, there was an earthquake. Did those things come because of this man? I’m not sure, but I think they probably did. I’ve never seen a man behaving like that on a cross, and I’m sure he was a righteous man, not a criminal. That’s what the criminal said, and I’m agreeing with
a criminal.
Well, he’s dead now, and so is the criminal who praised him. All the leaders who mocked him are still alive, but the day after he died, they were so worried that he might come back to life again that they asked Pilate to put a guard on the tomb. Imagine that – a guard on the tomb of a dead man!
It all adds up to too much for me. This was the strangest crucifixion I have ever attended, and the strangest man I have ever crucified. At the end of it all, I am convinced that he is better man than all of the people who were killing him, and with that strange darkness and the earthquake, I can’t help wondering whether he could have done more to escape if he had chosen to do so.
Anyway, I think that I might try to find out more about this man. After all, there are rumours floating around that he rose from the dead three days after we killed him. Some people are even claiming that they meet him daily.
What do you reckon, Mum?
Have I gone mad, worrying about a dead man?
Lots of love,
Your dutiful son,
Lucius
So that’s how it was. A very strange series of events surrounding the strange execution of a very unusual man who showed no signs of being a criminal. Since then, I’ve been able to find out a bit more information, but it’s not easy. I’ve got in touch with a few of his followers, but they’re all very suspicious of a centurion who is asking questions about Jesus.
Anyway, maybe it’s only important for Jews, but I can’t help thinking that when he said, “Father, forgive them for they don’t know what they are doing,” it seemed to be aimed most at us Romans who were crucifying him. I wouldn’t mind some forgiveness for that particular job – I really didn’t know what I was doing.
