MY GRANDFATHER
WAS A CENTURION
He was stationed in Africa, Gaul and Israel .
In the evenings - after a little wine - he loved to tell
stories - about all the different places he was stationed - and all the
different things that he saw - as a soldier and then as a centurion in the
Roman army.
Now he told these stories over and over again - and I
noticed that nobody liked to listen to them. They heard them all before.
But I loved to hear my grandfather’s stories. Whenever it started to get dark and the
friends whom I was playing with in our garden behind our house - had to get
home, I loved to go over to where my grandpa was sitting and sit with him. It’s
one of the best memories a person can have - but they won’t know this till they
are old and he is gone - and now they are a grandfather or a grandmother.
My grandfather loved to look out into the western sky. He
loved to watch the sun setting. He loved to watch the dark night creep up the canvas
of the sky. Another day …..
I loved to look at his face - thanks to the light from an
oil lamp. I loved to wonder where he was and what story he was telling himself
at the moment. I’d love to say, “Grandpa
tell me one of your stories.”
The story that intrigued me the most was the story he told
about what happened one week - many years ago - in Palestine - in Israel - in
Jerusalem.
“One day,” that’s how he usually began, “One day there was
this rabbi - this teacher - who came into Jerusalem
on a donkey. Everyone was singing. Everyone was
praising him. I didn’t know who he was - but I knew he was well known
amongst the Jews. Some people seemed to like him; some seemed to be nervous
about him; some seemed to want him killed.
“Whatever. Our job was to be part of crowd control that day.
The only damage that could have happened was a fight or two erupting because
the crowds were cutting palm branches off other people’s trees and waving them
at this man on the donkey - or throwing them as well as their cloaks on the ground. I guess so his
donkey could have a soften step. Those stone steps on the way in and out and
all around Jerusalem
could be tough on one’s feet.
“This would probably be something I'd forget. However, I remember it because a few days later some of these same people were screaming for the death of this man who had arrived in town on a donkey. In fact when my boss Pilate asked the crowd if they wanted this man or a well known thief and murderer named Barabbas killed, they screamed for the release of Barabbas.
“Strange. I just couldn't understand what was going on.
"In the meanwhile I was watching everything. That was my job. That was why I was getting paid my pieces of silver.
"In the meanwhile I was watching everything. That was my job. That was why I was getting paid my pieces of silver.
“I heard from other soldiers that one of his disciples - Judas
- his own friend - betrayed him for 30 pieces of silver. I found out this man’s name was Jesus. He was
from Nazareth -
up in the north - not a bad place to be stationed. It’s cooler up there and
they have a lake there - which has had various names. It seems that big shots
like to have big spots named after them. In my time Roman soldiers in Palestine called it the Sea of Tiberius
“Anyway that night of his arrest some of our soldiers made
fun of this man named Jesus and some even beat him. They had heard he talked
about founding a kingdom, so they crowned him with thorns.
“The next day - the day Pilate offered the crazy crowd - the
choice of releasing Barabbas or Jesus - I was standing there - watching faces.
I saw a surprise, ‘What?’ in both the faces of Pilate and Barabbas - but
nothing going on in the face of Jesus - just blood - just a silent, battered face - of a desecrated human being.
“I began wondering, ‘Who is this man? Who is this Jesus?’
“It was my 100 men - who marched him to his execution on
Calvary - the place of death - just outside the city of Jerusalem .
“On the way to the cross - a cross which they made him carry
- I could see all kinds of faces. Some crying…. Some spitting …. Some screaming …. Some in shock…. Some
silent…. One his mother….
“’Who is this man?’ that became my constant question.
“I had seen death - executions - before - but this was
different.
“We got him to Calvary . We
nailed him to a cross - along with two other criminals. We planted him in the
ground - and he hung there for a few hours and then he died.
“His disciples - had all fled. I know I would have. But his
mother was there. She wasn’t afraid - along with a few other women - and
someone named John. I heard he was very close to Jesus.
“Anyway it got dark - like the evening sky - but it was
still early afternoon. I always think of that day as I watch the sun set every
evening.
“It was a scene of horror - like any execution.
“That day - that Jesus - that wounded man on the cross -
said some powerful things from that cross. The one that grabbed me was his
forgiveness to us who were doing this. I didn’t understand that at the time -
but I have understood it ever since.
“Then my grandfather said to me, ‘When you get to be an old
man like me - you’ll look back on your life - and if you have done the things I
have done, you’ll need to know forgiveness is possible.
He paused and then said, “I tasted it that dark afternoon -
and I’ve tasted it ever since - just remembering that moment.’
“He promised one of the other thieves who died on a cross
near him that day - he promised him - ‘Today you’ll be with me in paradise.’
I’ve often wondered what that meant. I’ve often wondered what that meant’.
“The weather got worse. Thunder and lightning had some of
the few folks there running for the way back to the city. I guess the skies
wanted to wash with rain - the blood of this man - that could be seen on those
stones on that same way to the cross to this place called Calvary .
“I figured I had to say something. So I said, “This man was
innocent beyond all doubt.’
“But I don’t know if anyone heard me …. but I heard me.”
[PAUSE]
My grandfather was a centurion. He died as grandfathers do -
but of all the stories he told me, I remembered that story the most.
Years later I told some Christians that story my grandfather
told me.
Surprise those words my grandfather said that day made it
into print - in the Gospel of Luke, “This man was innocent beyond all doubt”
but I also heard there’s another version in a Gospel story by a man named Mark,
“Truly this man was the Son of God.”
As I said my grandfather told many stories - and he often
repeated himself - so maybe he had many versions of what he said that day -
don’t we all? Don’t we all?
