The Centurion speaks…

I’d only just got back when the summons came.  So, instead of the long bath I had hoped would wash this filthy business from me, I would have to go and face the Governor.  And I could think of only one reason for his summons: Pilate obviously knew.

It was the longest walk ever – each step a thousand miles, each second an eternity – as I covered the short distance from my quarters to the Governor’s office.    It wasn’t fear that slowed my steps along the corridor. As a soldier forged in battle, I have had to face the certainty of death many times before.  Lining up to face the enemy really focuses the mind.  You come to accept that what will be will be – my fate, as always, in the lap of the gods.  So no, it wasn’t fear that slowed me. It was regret. Regret that after so many years of loyal service it would all end like this: disgrace, dishonour, and the shameful charge of treason.  They would see it no other way.

As I walked, I tried to figure out who it could have been that reported me.  It wouldn’t have been any of my men. We’ve been through so much together and bonded like brothers.  I’d never doubt their loyalty.  Besides, they were still up at the site.  I’d left them there, in charge of the other crucifixions. So, if not my men, then who?  Surely not the man’s family; they were too shocked and scared to get involved.  And the Rabbis?  Well, surely, they’d know better than to push it now? They’d got what they wanted – why rock the boat any further?  So, not them.  But who?  I was both mystified and intrigued.

And, I have to admit, I was quite taken aback when I saw who it was standing there at the Governor’s side.  I would never have guessed it would be him!  I’m a good judge of character, and I thought I knew Joseph well enough: a Jewish leader from Arimathea; rich and powerful, yes, but not one I’d marked out as a political ‘player’.   I really had believed he was a better this. Unlike most of the others, he always struck me as one with integrity. Secretly I respected him. I never once considered that he would be my nemesis.   Well, I’d obviously got that wrong!   But why did he make his move and turn on me now?

I stepped up and stood silently waiting for the accusation.  It was one I could not deny; “So, centurion, you think this man is the Son of God do you?  You would choose this feeble Galilean over your Emperor, would you?  And what a futile time to choose to declare your traitorous colours, while the man you declare for hangs dying before you – by your own hands even!”

Sickened by what I’d seen of Roman rule in the past few days and standing before a man who had shown himself so weak that he thought he could actually wash his hands of all responsibility, I think I would have plead “guilty” to that charge without hesitation.  I’m not sure I wanted any part of this anymore.  It would be a relief to be out of it.

My relief came, however, in another way.   That was not the question Pilate put to me.  My fears were unfounded.  He had not heard of my outburst.  All he wanted to know was, “Is he dead already?”

Recovering quickly as a soldier is drilled to do, I gave my report.  I admitted that I, too, was surprised at how quickly he went but, yes, the Nazarene was dead alright.   

It’s my job to know if someone is dead.  If I made a mistake on the battle field the blighter might spring up from behind and stab me, so I am very thorough with my checks.  And when it comes to execution, I do my job properly. In most cases, when the criminal deserves it, I aim to extract as much pain as possible. In rare cases like this one, where the victim did not belong where he was, I’d see to it that things went as quickly as painlessly as possible.  

You see, I was in the courthouse and saw it all.  What a farce!  And what injustice! If Pilate had had the guts to stand up for something just for once then a murderer I’d be glad to put away would still be up on the cross screaming in agony – I would have seen to it!  Instead, Pilate sent the wrong man to die. A man he openly admitted was innocent.  But did that count for anything? No!  Pilate had other purposes in mind. Appeasement – the same as always.   And I, as always, was detailed to do his dirty work.

Now, do not be mistaken by what I said about my skills at crucifixion: this man suffered.  While I can ease it a little, there is no painless way to crucify a man.  Unless, that is, you drug the poor fellow up to the eyeballs first.  And that was not possible in this case; he refused the wine we offered.

But it was not the physical torture that was worse for this Jesus.  It was the deep agony in his soul.  I have seen so many men die, but I don’t think I have ever before witnessed such desolation.  And, I can tell you, I certainly have never heard a more agonised cry; “My God…” he yelled. “My God, why have you abandoned me?”

Some fools thought he was calling for a prophet to come and save him, and others rushed to give him wine, but I heard what he said and felt the deep agony of it.  This guy was for real.  His shock was genuine and overwhelming. For most of us the sense of being God-forsaken has been gnawing away at us for as long as we can remember (I’m sure, God left me a long, long time ago).  But this man acted as though it was the first moment of separation he’d ever experienced.  His reaction was raw and terrible. No wonder he died screaming!  Most of us have been screaming inside forever, but he felt this abandonment, I’m telling you, for the very first time when he was dying on that cross.  His scream rang so deep that it seemed he was experiencing all the cruel agony of our godlessness right there and then.

So, do you wonder that I marvelled?   The charge sheet nailed up with him named him ‘the king of the Jews’.  To me, that did not say enough. I blurted out my feelings: Truly this man was the son of God.  Only one so innocent and pure could ever have screamed like that.

Thankfully, as it turned out, Pilate had not heard that I’d said anything like that. Nor had he put the spin of treason on it that I feared he would.

And Joseph wasn’t being vindictive as I first thought, but astonishingly brave in the circumstances. I’d not been wrong about him. He was the man I’d first judged him to be… more so, even.  He stepped up to give this man, that Pilate thought expendable, a decent burial.  I’m not sure I would want to stick my neck out like that at such a volatile moment.   I caught his eye and gave Joseph the slightest nod of approval.  We both knew that this act of common decency amounted to nothing less than a slap in the face for Pilate.

What drew that out of such a normally reticent man, I can only guess.  You’ll have to ask him.  But for me… the way I saw him die…  I can tell you, there was something very special about this Jesus.  So, take him and give him a proper burial, Joseph. He deserves that, at least.  For my part, I know that this man, and that dying cry of his, is going to live in my memory for a very long time to come.