At the Enemy's House

At The Enemy's House--February 7, 2019

"When he 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 does, 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]

I grew up in a household, neighborhood, and community being taught that local law enforcement was there to help.  From the police officer who lived down the block from my childhood house, to Officer Clemmons dipping his feet in the wading pool with a barefoot Mr. Rogers on public television, to the elementary school lessons about whom to call for help in an emergency, I was raised simply to regard the presence of police uniforms as a good thing.  They were there to help, to calm things down, to protect and serve, just like the motto on the side of their cars said.

I grew up, in other words, with the default assumption that the police were friends rather than enemies, help rather than harm, because they were members of my own community.  So I wasn't afraid as a kid if I heard police sirens going down another street, and I didn't have any fear that I was in danger of harm when the police were around.  It was, in many ways, much like watching Mr. Rogers on television talking about "the helpers."

Not everyone grows up with that luxury--Jesus, for example.  

That's why it's such a big deal when Jesus graciously offers help for a Roman centurion who asks him... and also recognizes the deep faith in this intimidating outsider.

For Jesus, there was no friendly Officer Clemmons on TV.  For Jesus, and all of his people living under the rule of the Empire, "law enforcement" meant the presence of Roman soldiers, who had imperial permission to force Jewish subjects to carry their loads for them, to extort wealth from people, and to use brutal force in the name of maintaining order.  Jesus would have grown up living in a land occupied by a foreign army that also served as the local police, so that when somebody was accused of making a ruckus down the block, it was the Roman army who showed up to restore peace and quiet.  And the Romans had no qualms about using their weapons first and asking questions afterward... or just not at all.

All of this is to say that in the household, neighborhood, and community where Jesus grew up, it was not automatically safe to call to the men in uniform for help--because they were the uniforms, not of local police from their own neighborhood, but of paid Roman soldiers who had a reputation for brutal efficiency rather than community protection. Where Jesus grew up, it was clear that the "law enforcement" you got from the Romans was not there to "protect and serve" the people of Galilee or Judea, but the interests of Rome.  And to far too many Roman officers, Jesus would have been just one more expendable brown-skinned face undistinguishable from any others (they all looked the same to the Romans).  Jesus had learned that by the time he grew to be a young man.  He had seen it before when other fellow Jews were rounded up as "troublemakers" by the Empire, and then crucified, or flogged, or simply disappeared.  Jesus knew, as any Palestinian Jew in the first century would have, that the closest thing they had to police were not on their side, but were more like an imperially sanctioned enemy with the power to do whatever they wanted in the name of preserving order.

We need to keep that in mind if we are going to understand just how radical it is that when one seemingly decent Roman centurion approaches Jesus with a seemingly sincere concern for his servant, Jesus neither runs away in fear nor refuses in anger.  Jesus doesn't lash out and deny help because he has seen too many Roman soldiers beat or harass his neighbors, and he doesn't go off and hide in order to avoid the centurion, either. He listens and offers help--even being willing to go to the centurion's own home, despite the fact it would have made Jesus ceremonially unclean by coming into contact with Gentiles and their household wares.  Jesus is not ruled by bitterness or fear of this "other," even though everything about the situation meant that the centurion was really "bad guy with a sword" than "good guy with a sword," more "enemy" than "enforcer of law."  It is not a matter of worthiness or of "liking," but rather a willingness to do good even for people across boundaries of power, ethnicity, and animosity. This, boys and girls, is what enemy-love looks like in action.

And then when the centurion displays a deep faith in Jesus' ability and authority to heal, Jesus does something else amazing: he acknowledges the faith of this "other," this outsider and enemy sent by the occupying empire.  Jesus says the centurion's faith is more authentic that the typical half-hearted hypocrisy of the Respectable Religious crowd he usually runs across. And he holds up this foreigner--this enemy with power to harm Jesus and his people!--as an example of how God's love reaches beyond the lines we draw to contain it.  Jesus says that this encounter is evidence that outsiders, foreigners, and strangers will be invited to the table with Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob in the great eternal banquet.  Jesus sees something good in this erstwhile "bad guy" and holds it up to the light.  Instead of making this simply an encounter based on pity, or Jesus condescendingly throwing a bone to one of "those dirty Gentiles," Jesus names the good and unique gifts this outsider has to offer, which the rest of God's people sorely need.  

If we are going to take this story seriously today, we'll have to come face to face with two truths that will make us squirm.  First, following Jesus will send us across the path even of those we have been taught to fear, to hate, or to have nothing to do with, much as Jesus had surely grown up learning to avoid Roman soldiers in order to survive.  If we are going to be Jesus' disciples, he will take us along to do good and act with kindness toward people we regard as "enemies," as "bad guys," and even as "threats" to us.  Maybe you didn't grow up with a fear of law enforcement officers like the Jewish population of Galilee and Judea would have, but we all know people we have been taught, whether implicitly or explicitly, to keep away from for our own safety.  Jesus is going to send us to do good for their sakes, too, just as he does for the centurion.  Jesus will send us out to engage with "the Other," even the hostile Other.

And then second, following Jesus means we will have to leave ourselves open to surprise when someone we thought for sure fit into the "bad guy" category ends up having something good to teach us, to offer, to embody.  That means the risk of reaching out to people, not simply to puff ourselves up for doing a bit of charity work for "those people," but realizing that God may have it in mind to teach us something through the people don't think we can learn from.

Both of those are going to be challenges for us, to be honest.  We don't like Jesus messing with our categories of friends (who we think are worthy of love) and enemies (whom we don't want to love), of black-hat-wearing "bad guys" and white-hat-wearing "good guys".  But Jesus is bound and determined to take our neat categories and mix up all of our hand-printed labels.  

He has been doing it for the last two thousand years, after all.  Be ready for Jesus to do it again with us and the people he sends across our path today.

Lord Jesus, give us the courage to go to the people you send us to, regardless of our hang-ups, and give us the humility to see what you are trying to teach us through them, too.