Christian Middle

Continuing with stories about how God loves us uniquely, I take today’s post from Luke 7:1-10.

I’ve known Quintus for several years now, ever since he replaced the centurion originally stationed here in Capernaum. Though called in an official capacity to monitor the construction of our synagogue, he had struck up conversations with some of the other elders and me. He had a great interest in our holy texts, having read them in the Greek, and even contributed out of his own pocket to our building project. He couldn’t say so outright, but we knew that he had his eye out for any trouble headed our way.

When the Galilean rabbi began making his rounds in our area, I caught him listening in the back of the crowds on more than one occasion. Like us, he found Jesus to speak with authority as he taught from the Scriptures, and cast out demons and disease. It must have resonated with his own military training.

Clearly, Quintus was the sort of good Gentile we have come to describe as “God-fearing.” Most Romans had no basic reverence for life and a slave’s life counted even less. While lacking nothing in military discipline, this Roman had a way of treating every person with dignity. Take his personal slave, as an example. The young man had seemed the picture of health and efficiency when Quintus first arrived in Capernaum, but when his joints inexplicably began to cripple him over the past year and some, the centurion impressed us by seeking out a doctor for the servant at regular intervals. Yet, despite the doctor’s salves, the slave’s condition had steadily deteriorated of late and the medic had pronounced there was nothing further to be done.

The morning Jesus arrived in Capernaum Quintus sent for me and begged me and the other elders to go to the healer on his behalf. He was always keenly respectful of our Jewish teaching about keeping our distance from Gentiles. He knew us now, but still he wouldn’t presume to approach the Galilean himself.

If anyone deserved the rabbi’s help it was sure to be Quintus. I didn’t hesitate to go and neither did the others. We gained an audience with Jesus quickly enough and pleaded our case: “This man deserves to have you do this, because he loves our nation and has built our synagogue.”

Without a qualm, Jesus followed us in the direction of the Roman quarter. But as we approached Quintus’ home, another messenger hurried to meet us. From memory he spoke the commander’s words: “Master, you don’t have to go to all this trouble. I’m not that good a person, you know. I’d be embarrassed for you to come to my house, even embarrassed to come to you in person. Just give the order and my servant will get well. I’m a man under orders; I also give orders. I tell one soldier, ‘Go,’ and he goes; another, ‘Come,’ and he comes; my slave, ‘Do this,’ and he does it.”

We were all taken aback – but Jesus, especially. “I’ve yet to come across this kind of simple trust anywhere in Israel, the very people who are supposed to know about God and how he works.”

I can’t say I didn’t bristle at what the rabbi said about Israel, but when I met with Quintus later, I felt humbled. The slave’s cure had set Quintus to rejoicing. “I knew the healer could do it,” he shared confidentially, “but that he did this for me I have no way to understand. How can it be that Israel’s God has love even for a Roman?”

I had no answer, but my heart filled with gladness for Quintus’ sake.

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