“This Man”

by John Comer

I am a man of war, well-trained to fight, kill, conquer, and control. We Romans know this is the only way to have peace. As a centurion I serve here in Jerusalem to maintain our Roman peace among the Jews.

Their religion is a puzzle. They have only one god. Strange. They have a temple, but have a law forbidding his image there. Explain this! What kind of religion has a law outlawing its god? Just stroll through Rome, the premier city of the world, and you will see lovely temples which house the gods they were built to honor. A sensible thing.

The Jews call us Gentiles, “The Nations.” Indeed we are a nation, and our nation is in control of their nation. We intend to keep it that way! We built our Antonia fortress right next door to their temple and higher than the temple walls, so we can look down into it with constant surveillance. Most local trouble seems to involve the temple.

But I have digressed. My intention was to tell you about one Jewish man. I was in charge of his crucifixion this morning. The work went well. Prisoner restrained. Nails deep. Ropes tight. Crossbar secure. Crowds under control. Law upheld and justice meted out. Law and justice are determined by others. My job is the killing.

But never before like this.

This man did not curse us as we did our work which on this day was almost like slaughtering one of the sheep we regularly see being brought into the temple. On the cross he did not scream obscenities at his enemies but asked that they be forgiven. He even made provision for his mother. Men hanging on crosses do not do these things.

I stood before his cross. I heard every word he said, and every word that was said to him. He spoke sad words to his god. He promised paradise to one of the men being crucified. Some taunted him about coming down from the cross if he was really the son of their god. After an ominous three- hour darkness, I heard him commend his spirit to his father. I saw how he died. Then the earth shook and rocks split.

            I am a hard man and brutal. I cannot afford sensitivity. But neither can I ignore evidence. In all my years of supervising crucifixions, I have never before seen a man die as this man died today.   It is finished now, and I repeat words I spoke earlier: “Truly, this man was the Son of God.”