Pastor Tom Johnson, March 28, 2021
We listened to an extended reading of Jesus’ suffering and death. Mark, the Gospel writer, gives us what feels like a front row seat. We, too, are now witnesses of Jesus’ Passion and death. Simon of Cyrene carries the Cross shoulder to shoulder with Jesus. The two other men crucified with Jesus are within conversational distance. And some of Jesus’ faithful disciples are at a distance including Mary Magdalene and Mary the mother of James the younger. But it is the centurion by far who has the best seat in the house. From beginning to end, he witnesses this sick and sadistic display and abuse of power. He carries out his orders of crucifixion. He helps the Roman authority drive fear and terror deep into the hearts of the people whose land they possess.
The centurion is, our Scripture says, standing right in front of Jesus. In fact, the New Testament language here is wonderfully awkward. It says something like “the centurion stood beside opposite Jesus.” Usually, to stand opposite another person carries a negative connotation. That is to say, the centurion stands against, opposed, or contrary to Jesus—which he most certainly did. It was by his hands that Jesus is nailed to the Cross. But at the same time, he stands in very close proximity to Jesus. He stands face to face with Jesus—looking straight up and toward the execution he is supervising. He stands opposite Jesus and he stands alongside Jesus.
British Pastor and theologian N.T. Wright describes the centurion in this way: “A battle-hardened thug in a Roman uniform, used to killing humans the way one might kill flies” (from Mark for Everyone, p. 216). The tragic reality is that crucifixions were frequent and routine in the areas of the world occupied by the Roman. I suspect it is hard for any of us to imagine that Jesus was just one of thousands who were executed in this cruel and unusual way. Crucifixion had become an art and a science to those who invented a form of capital punishment designed to maximize pain, discomfort, suffocation, thirst, and public humiliation; and, at the same time, making it possible for the condemned to survive for days at a time in their prolonged agony. The Roman message of the cross was “This is what we will do to you and your people if you resist, rebel, or break our laws.” It was common for people to see these cruel and public executions as they came in and out of Jerusalem.
The centurion probably had seen it all—so he thought. But that day, he encounters Jesus. He stands opposite and facing the son of a carpenter from the region of Nazareth. There he stands beneath the mocked, beaten, and dying Jesus with an inscription above him which read “King of the Jews.” Can you see yourself in this centurion—this nameless soldier just doing his job for god and country? Have we not also seen so much injustice in this world—enough death at the hands of mentally ill, street violence, killings of police officers, wrongful death at the hand of law enforcement? We have seen death from the pandemic numbering the hundreds of thousands in the United States alone. Eight people being shot and killed in a grocery story does not seem like a lot to us—unless it is someone we know and love. Have we not also become a little battle-hardened? The centurion is an expert at watching people struggle against death on the battlefield. And, in his time in Jerusalem, he becomes an expert at watching people face a gruesome death in this barbaric form of capital punishment.
But the centurion also knows courage, strength, loyalty, and sacrifice on the battlefield. And as he stands face to face with Jesus, that is what he sees—courage, strength, loyalty, and sacrifice. He did not see someone afraid of death, struggling powerlessly, or crying for vengeance. He sees another soldier fighting the good fight. He sees a commanding King who was leading the battle against injustice, evil, and sin. The way in which Jesus breathes his last is a sermon in and of itself. The way in which he dies speaks powerfully and clearly to this “battle-hardened thug in a Roman uniform.” And the words that follow out of his mouth is one of the greatest confessions of faith in all the Bible: “Truly, this man was the Son of God!” He uses a title reserved for the Roman emperor himself, “son of God,” and hails Jesus not just King of the Jews but King of heaven and earth. “Truly, this man was the Son of God!”
The centurion’s profession of faith provides a thread that connects the dots of the whole story of Jesus. At Jesus’ Baptism the voice of God the Father speaks from heaven, “You are my beloved Son. With you I am well pleased!” (Mark 1:11). At Jesus’ transfiguration when the disciples get a glimpse of his blinding glory, the Father says again from heaven, “This is my beloved Son; listen to him” (Mark 9:7). And now God speaks this same truth through the lips of “a battle-hardened thug in a Roman uniform.” “Truly, this is the Son of God!”
This is the faithful Savior who dies—who confronts death face to face—who conquers sin, evil, and death itself—who courageously wins the battle for you and me—the one who cries forgiveness—the one who assures us of eternal life even when he is on the cross—the one who powerfully transforms even the most battle-hardened hearts like yours and mine.
Therefore, kind Jesus, since I cannot pay thee,
I do adore thee, and will every pray thee;
Think on thy pity and thy love unswerving,
Not my deserving.
(“Ah, Holy Jesus,” LSB 123 v. 5)
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