Place Settings for Bad Guys

Place Settings for Bad Guys--August 9, 2018

"When [Jesus] entered Capernaum, a centurion came to him, appealing to him and saying, 'Lord, my servant is lying at home paralyzed, in terrible distress.' And he said to him, 'I will come and cure him.' The centurion answered, 'Lord, I am not worthy to have you come under my roof; but only speak the word, and my servant will be healed. For I also am a man 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 him, he was amazed and said to those who followed him, 'Truly I tell you, in no one in Israel have I found such faith. I tell you, many will come from east and west and will eat with Abraham and Isaac and Jacob in the kingdom of heaven, while the heirs of the kingdom will be thrown into the outer darkness, where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth.' And to the centurion Jesus said, 'Go; let it be done for you according to your faith.' And the servant was healed in that hour." [Matthew 8:5-13]

Talk about an unexpected dinner invite.

Here in this wonderful story--but a story that is also really surprising and subversive, also, if we are paying attention--nothing goes the way it was "supposed" to.  And it ends with Jesus' declaration out of left field that this officer in the occupying empire's army is the sort of fella who will get to eat at the big family dinner table with Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob in glory one day.  Come on now--this isn't how this sort of scene was "supposed" to go.

For one, and let's be clear here, it was a dangerous thing from the beginning for Jesus to even engage with the Roman centurion. In our day, it is generally assumed that you are supposed to thank those who wear the soldier's or sailor's uniform for their service, at the very least, as a show of respect and appreciation.  But that is because we tend to assume we are talking about an interaction with our own armed forces.  In the first century in Palestine, centurions aren't the great defenders of freedom--they are the occupying force!  They are the invaders, the enemy, the boots used to step on the neck of Judeans who dreamed of independence and freedom. In the eyes of the Empire, Judean lives did not matter--they were expendable, and everybody knew it. It is a dangerous thing for Jesus to even speak to this centurion, and dangerous in just about every direction!  

For one, even though, again, we tend to depict our men and women in uniform as heroic, noble, and virtuous, in the first century, Roman soldiers were known for their ruthless brutality, efficient violence, and cruel oppression of the people they had conquered.  Romans made an example out of the people who crossed them, and Roman soldiers were the constant reminder to conquered people that if they stepped out of line, there would be crosses in their future.  So for Jesus to talk to this centurion is a bold move, even just because the wrong centurion in the wrong mood could have been spoiling for a reason to arrest, beat, and punish any Jewish man who crossed his path.  Plenty of Roman soldiers succumbed to the temptation that befalls anyone with power, position, and a weapon--the temptation to abuse them and take out their pent-up anger on some unsuspecting innocent civilian.  You have to think that lots of Judean mothers and fathers warned their sons to keep their heads down when they saw a centurion coming by--you let them ask for your license and registration, you let them make you step out of the car, and you kept your mouth shut if they smashed your taillight in and then cited you for it, because they could do so much worse to you if you stood up for yourself.  You have to think that Jesus had grown up in a world like that, and had been trained, not to respect Roman soldiers in uniform, but to fear them.  

And yet... Jesus speaks to this centurion without fear, without letting himself be dehumanized or belittled, and without bitterness.  Jesus speaks like someone who is secure in himself, and he treats the centurion with a respect that many centurions would not have extended to Jesus himself.  That is radical, just that by itself.

And then, consider the flip side.  For all the ways that the occupying Romans could and did  get away with abusing Judeans, there were plenty of Judeans who would be upset with anyone who seemed to be too friendly with the Empire and its soldiers.  After all, they were the Enemy.  And you don't fraternize with the enemy or come to their aid.  There were plenty of Judeans who saw any action of assistance, compassion, or even respect for the Roman soldiers as an act of treason against the notion of Judah one day become a free and self-governing nation again.  If you were respectful toward a centurion, they would have said, you were giving their occupation legitimacy!  You were implicitly accepting this violent rule from an oppressive foreign regime!  And you were a traitor, then.   There would have been plenty of people who, if they saw Jesus speaking respectfully with this Roman centurion (not even to mention Jesus offering to go to his house to help his servant!) would have put a target on Jesus' back, too, for aiding and abetting the enemy.

This is a practically impossible moment for Jesus.  He was risking his life by even talking to the centurion, both because the centurion himself could well have been trying to entrap some sucker into giving him an excuse to beat up and harass a Jewish male in the name of "keeping law and order," and because someone hostile to the Romans could have taken Jesus for a traitor if they saw him offering to help the centurion's servant.

And yet... Jesus steps into this encounter with his characteristic courage and compassion.  He cares about the soldier's servant, and he is brave enough to risk whatever consequences will come by being seen helping out "the enemy."  

And then from there, the story just gets weirder.  Even though Jesus' Judean background had surely trained him to be wary and guarded around the occupying forces of "law and order," Jesus discovers that this centurion is not brutish nor demanding. He doesn't want to put Jesus at risk by having him come under his own roof, but trusts that Jesus has the power to heal simply by his own say-so, even if he's not in the same room or building as the sick person.  And that is a faith that most of Jesus' own people do not have.

So this is the point at which Jesus pushes the envelope even further.  When the centurion demonstrates a surprising faith that the man from Nazareth can help him even without being in the same room as the sick servant, Jesus calls out this Roman centurion as an example of what living faith looks like.  And from there Jesus says something that would have sounded downright blasphemous to any Judean paying attention at all.  Jesus goes on to say that at God's great family dinner table, where Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob will one day gather for God's great unending feast, there will be outsiders welcome... even enemies like this centurion.  "They'll come from east and west and find a place at the table alongside Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob," Jesus says, giving a nod toward this centurion.  Jesus dares to say that God's table includes people I have written off as "the enemy."  Jesus dares to say that God's table has place settings for people I absolutely abhor, as surely many Judeans despised the occupying force from Rome.  Jesus dares to say that God's family dinner will include people you would never expect... while meanwhile some of the Respectable Religious Crowd will be standing outside with their arms crossed and their brows furrowed in frustration.  The centurion is the stereotypical "bad guy" for a Judean in the first century, and Jesus has just declared that there will be place settings in glory for such "bad guys," whether the self-proclaimed "good guys" like it or not.

All of this is to say that Jesus doesn't just heal this one centurion's servant as a one-time, fluke sort of event, but Jesus stops and says, "This is what God's table is like--there is room at the great divine family dinner for people you despise, because God has deemed them acceptable.  There is room for people who may well truly be despicable, but whom God has chosen to accept.  There is a space for you, too, when you are the one that others scowl and bristle at and deem unworthy.  And the Respectable Religious Crowd just don't get a say in who is allowed to come to dinner.  

Jesus could have kept this all quiet, or he could have said something like, "I'll help your servant out, but don't think that means God loves you--you're still going to hell for being part of the enemy occupying force!"  He could have said, "I'll help your servant, because he's the one who is sick, but I sure as heaven wouldn't help YOU out directly, Mr. Centurion, if you were the sick one!"  And for that matter, Jesus could have just whimpered in submission out of fear of the centurion, rather than the confident graciousness that Jesus shows.  But instead, Jesus makes this a moment to go on record saying that God's dinner table has places set for no-good, rotten, enemy-occupiers, too, who were the wrong religion and the wrong ethnicity.

So now there is this question for us today, too.  Dare we allow the possibility that Jesus is pointing us toward people we absolutely cannot stand... and telling us that they are welcome at God's great heavenly table, too?  Dare we consider that just because I am bitter or resentful toward someone else doesn't require God to hate that person?  Dare we imagine that someone I see as an enemy, or a threat, or a danger, could also teach me something vital about real, genuine faith?  Dare we consider, too, that there are others surely who are convinced we do not belong, and that our only hope is that God reserves the right to include us in the Kingdom regardless of whether others approve?

We do not have to be overcome with hate or bitterness, and we do not have to be ruled by fear of the centurions whose paths cross with ours today.  We have the freedom and the choice to be gracious even to people we have been taught to be afraid of.  We have the opportunity in this day to let God surprise us with the faith that even your own worst enemy can teach you.  Will we allow such a possibility today, and the possibility of sitting together with them in glory, or will we remove ourselves in self-righteous arm-crossing and gnash our teeth over the grace that enfolds even enemies?

Your call today... but there is someone at the door asking for you.  What will we do?

Lord Jesus, give us your confidence, your compassion, and your courage, and your faithful imagination to see people we least expect drawn to your table in love and faith.