Authority: Jesus and the Centurion

Luke 7:1-10
When I first heard about my posting to the backwater of Palestine, I was aghast.
I was a member of the Praetorian Guard, charged with protecting the emperor. It was perhaps the best that a third son from a noble family could aspire to and I was a model soldier.
It is true that in my secret heart what I really longed to do was to study and learn. I was captivated by the philosophy of the Greeks thanks to my tutor Demetrius. Perhaps I was not wise enough to keep my learning to myself for I found myself one day in front of a tribunal accused of atheism and lack of respect for the gods. Of course, the charges were inflated and misleading, yet there was in them a grain of truth. And when I say a grain, I really mean a bushel! I did not respect the gods. Indeed, who could? What kind of god worthy of worship spends all his energy trying to have sex with maidens, as Jupiter did? Our gods were merely men with superhuman abilities: proud, impulsive and violent.
So now I command a hundred men here in this hot dusty land full of religious zealots and wild-eyed priests. It is as unlike proud, cosmopolitan Rome as a pig is from a horse and yet I am content. For one thing, the people here, the Jews, follow one God whose name cannot be spoken and they live their lives attempting obedience to their Law which sets out ethical behaviour in a bewildering array of situations.
Because I know that ruling a people is easier when you understand what drives them, I made it my new study to learn as much about these Jews as I could. In this, Demetrius was my willing accomplice. Together we would go to the town square of Capernaum to listen to their scholars debate and discuss their sacred teachings.
Their God does not resemble our gods in the slightest. This God rules over his people like a shepherd with his flock. They speak of him being full of undying love. Love? A God whose lives to love his creation? Demetrius turned to me and nodded in that quick Greek way of his. “This is a God worth serving.”
What work is there for a soldier in Palestine? Oh much, my friends! You must know that these Jews see themselves as a Chosen people. You can understand this when you hear their stories. Consider their father, Abraham, the founder of the race. He was walking in a field one day and he heard the voice of this God telling him to pack up his whole family and all of his portable possessions and strike out for a country he had never seen before. Here is another of their stories. These Jews were captives in Egypt many years ago, enslaved to a pharaoh who treated them like scum. A shepherd named Moses is walking in the desert when he sees a burning bush. From out of this bush, he hears the voice of God telling him to set free the Jews, his people. He goes straightaway to the Pharaoh and demands freedom for his people and he gets it! And the Jews have many such stories of divine intervention: marching around a walled city until the walls of themselves come tumbling down, a shepherd boy slaying a huge giant with only a sling. I could go on and on.
Where was I? Oh yes, you can see why they see themselves as a chosen people. As a people special to God’s heart, you can imagine that they do not see Rome as a worthy ruler. Are they grateful for Roman roads, Roman culture and Roman peace? My friends, they are not! They are a people given to rebellion and stiff-neckedness, eager to send we Romans packing. And now the talk of Capernaum is all of their Messiah.
What is a Messiah? As nearly as Demetrius and I could understand, the Messiah is a sort of God-King come to earth to build a holy Kingdom. Bad news for Rome, you say? Ah, we will see, we will see.
My task, as I see it, is to deprive rebels of any cause to rebel. I am not the governor it is true, but I have it in my power to do good to these Jews. It was Demetrius, subtle, cunning Greek that he is, that first put the idea into my head to build them a meeting place, a synagogue. As he pointed out, a grateful people are slower to rebel. I will say that my visits to the synagogue were more than just a show of support; I was truly fascinated with the idea of a loving God and as a military man, I liked the idea of a God who rewarded good behaviour and punished sin instead of indulging in it himself.
One day Demetrius came to me all excited about a strange tale he had heard in the streets. There was a Jewish miracle worker who was in the countryside amazing scholars with his teaching and overwhelming the poor with healings and deliverances. The talk was that this could be, must be, the Messiah long promised.
“I can’t say I like the sound of that,” I said gruffly. “Every time these Jews find a new Messiah, it means rebellion against Rome!”
“This man, Jesus, might be a different kettle of fish,” said Demetrius, his eyes twinkling. “He teaches his followers not to resist oppression. He told him that when they are struck on the cheek, to present the other one for a smack.”
“That doesn’t sound like a very Jewish sentiment,” I said. “I thought their scripture taught to take an eye for an eye or a tooth for a tooth.”
“His teachings are as strange to my ears as they are to yours, master. But all the same...I find them profoundly exciting!”
“I’ll tell you what, Demetrius. Why don’t you join with this Jew’s entourage and keep your ears open for any whiff of rebellion?”
Over the next few weeks, Demetrius would come back for our little symposiums and he would share with me what he’d learned. It was the most amazing blend of rustic story-telling and powerful preaching. But the amazing thing, according to Demetrius, was this man’s authority. Sick men and women presented themselves to him and with a few words or a touch, all signs of sickness would flee.
“He cures men without medicine,” said Demetrius in a hushed voice. “I saw him heal a blind man by simply telling him to see! I tell you, the man has the spirit of Asclepius on him!”
“Every magician worthy of his salt has hidden tricks,” I suggested.
“I am not an easily gulled peasant,” said Demetrius, highly affronted. “Believe me master, this man is different. What if he is the Messiah?”
“Oh Demetrius, they are making a Jew out of you!” I laughed.
“I wonder...” he said.
One day, I got out of bed to break my fast, but to my surprise Demetrius was nowhere to be seen. It was unlike him to miss a meal. I went to his room to berate him for lollygagging in bed. To my shock, his face was as white as milk and an acrid smell filled the room.
“Demetrius,” I cried. He groaned hollowly but could not speak. Immediately I summoned a slave to run for a doctor.
The doctor, another Greek, poked Demetrius in his abdomen and checked his saliva. He turned to me and shook his head. “He will surely die. It is the plague from the East.”
I dismissed the doctor with a piece of silver and called my optio in.
“Take some men with you and go to the Jewish healer Jesus and ask him to heal my servant Demetrius.” I commanded. He saluted without comment and quickly marched away.
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I looked up from the fire where I was grilling a fish. Romans! What were they doing here? I must protect my master, I thought. I picked up a staff and ran to where Jesus was resting.
“Master, wake up! Romans are coming!” I shouted.
“What do they want, Simon Peter?” he asked yawning and stretching.
“I don’t know yet. I came to you first!”
“Well, let’s find out what they want.” He smiled at me in that way that makes you love him.
The Romans had come to ask Jesus to heal one of their slaves. I knew that he would refuse to do such a thing because these were Gentiles, but to my surprise he just nodded and got up to go with them.
We started to walk the long dusty road to the villas of Capernaum when another Roman soldier came to us and saluted.
Jesus smiled and waited. He did not return the salute!
“My centurion greets you and begs you not to come to his villa. He has told me to tell you just to speak a word. He knows that it will be sufficient to heal his servant. He, himself, is a man under authority so he understands that you have the authority to do this.”
I tell you, I don’t think I’ve ever seen Jesus look surprised before but his eyes were wide and a shocked smile was playing about his mouth.
“You Romans amaze me!” he said. “I haven’t seen this kind of faith before among my own people and now you foreigners come to me and demonstrate true faith. I tell you, your servant is healed from this very moment!”
The Roman saluted again, turned on his heal and marched back into the early morning.
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Demetrius’ eyes opened slowly. His face was starting to get its colour back. He looked up and me and grinned.
“I dreamed that I was about to cross the river Styx,” He said “When suddenly a man with a loud voice called to Charon and said, ‘You have no authority over this one! He belongs to me!’”
“What happened then?” I asked.
“Charon nodded and turned the ship around and brought me back to the land of the living souls.” He clapped me on the shoulder and told me that he would pick me up another time!
“Who was the man who called to you from the land of the living souls?”
“It was that Jewish healer Jesus. I tell you, sir, there is something very different about him.”
“I’m inclined to agree with you. Now get out of bed you lazy slave. My breakfast awaits its usual companion!”
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What a charming story. But there is a very interesting point to it which I hope you picked up on. It has to do with authority.
I remember many sessions where some unfortunate soul would come to me and ask that I pray for their healing. I always felt that somehow I had to drum up the faith to heal them, somehow I had to psyche myself and the sick person up so that God would see our faith and bring healing. I rather resented Jesus for doing it all so effortlessly! He would speak a word or touch the sick person and boom they would recover! No fair, Jesus! Why can’t I do that?
How is it that Jesus was able to operate in such authority? Is it because he knows who he is? Is it because he is so intimately tied to his Father that he can perceive what his Father is already doing and climb onboard with it?
Authority is not a star that falls from heaven and creates a crown on our heads. It is a closeness, an intimacy with God so that we know we have permission to join him in healing people. As long as I think that I (gifted soul that I am) am the healer, I will never bring healing. But if I see that God is already at work, I am welcome to join him, to come under the canopy of his authority.

Amen