After Jesus had finished all his sayings in the hearing of the
people, he entered Capernaum. A
centurion there had a slave whom he valued highly, and who was ill and close to
death. When he heard about Jesus, he
sent some Jewish elders to him, asking him to come and heal his slave. When they came to Jesus, they appealed to him
earnestly, saying, “He is worthy of having you do this for him, for he loves
our people, and it is he who built our synagogue for us.” And Jesus went with them, but when he was not
far from the house, the centurion sent friends to say to him, “Lord, do not
trouble yourself, for I am not worthy to have you come under my roof; therefore I did not presume to come to
you. But only speak the word, and let my
servant be healed. For I also am a man
set under authority, with soldiers under me;
and I say to one, ‘Go,’ and he goes, and to another, ‘Come,’ and he comes,
and to my slave, ‘Do this,’ and the slave does it.” When Jesus heard this he was amazed at him,
and turning to the crowd that followed him, he said, “I tell you, not even in
Israel have I found such faith.” When
those who had been sent returned to the house, they found the slave in good
health. [Luke
7: 1-10]
Why did the church remember this story? It’s not a specially dramatic healing
story. The slave hadn’t died. It may have been a female slave – Luke doesn’t
tell us. This slave is described as
valuable property. The Greek doesn’t say
the centurion loved his slave, but rather that he valued the slave highly – the
Greek is really the word for something expensive. Some commentators think it is a code for a
gay relationship between the centurion and the slave. We tend to see that everywhere these days, I
think. But we can say that if it was
such a bond, it would have been unexceptional in Roman society, but forbidden
in Jewish culture. So it would be
remarkable that the Jewish elders sent to get help. Incidentally, the narrative does not say that
Jesus healed the slave, only that the slave got better quickly.
I think the church preserved and told this story because it is about
normal, familiar social barriers coming down.
The centurion, the local military commander, had made friends with the
Jewish community and had actually built them a synagogue. That was not regular Roman policy. So the Jewish elders thought something could
be done for the centurion, since his slave was ill, if this wandering healer
would co-operate. This is the magic in the story. He
loves our people, said the Jewish elders to Jesus – not a bad message in
our age and culture of all levels of anti-semitism and other forms of ignorant
prejudice.
Then we have the lovely account of tangled humility. The centurion thinks he is unworthy to have Jesus
come into his house – yet he seems to think Jesus has the same lofty authority
he himself has: I say to one, ‘Go,’ and he goes, and to
another, ‘Come,’ and he comes, and to my slave, ‘Do this,’ and the slave does
it.” But
Jesus sees it all as faith. Never mind
the centurion’s hopelessly mixed motives.
For Jesus, faith and human neediness are very closely related. The pagan Roman soldier needed his valuable
servant to be healed. The servant
certainly needed to get better – a little point that doesn’t get mentioned in
the narrative. There is always need and
neediness, no matter what power or authority we may possess. The story tells us that God hears our
neediness as faith, rather than our true-blue religious adherence. Contemplative
people are learning not to be afraid of our neediness any more. The silence and stillness teach us the
poverty of parading of any kind. The
centurion would learn that too, if he became a follower.
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