A View From The Cross: “Father, Forgive Them”
Good Friday Meditation – 2005
Dr. Bill Nieporte, Pastor, Red Bank Baptist Church
Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Claudius. You can call me Claude. I am a professional soldier in the Roman army. I enlisted as soon as they’d take me and I have worked my way up through the system to earn the rank of Centurion. That’s equal to what you might call a Lieutenant in your military.
My regiment was on crucifixion detail when Jesus of Nazareth was place into custody. I was his constant companion from the early hours of the morning when the Jewish leaders brought him to Pilate, till the very end, when he breathed his last breath.
The Jewish leaders had all sort of accusation about Jesus. They said he was an insurrectionist, a rebel, a criminal, and a blasphemer. They claimed he was a threat to their stability and the stability of the Roman Empire. For hours Jesus was bounced back and forth between the Sanhedrin, Herod, and Pilate. It was Pilate who finally gave the order to have Jesus executed, but like a good politician he did his best to exonerate himself from any responsibility.
When Pilate gave the order – my men and I began preparations to include Jesus in that day’s crucifixion line up. Including Jesus, there were three men who would be put to death that day.
Crucifixion is a dirty, rotten business. I can still remember my first crucifixion. I was what you might call a “Private”. I was newly enlisted in the army and ready to conquer the world for the sake of the Roman Empire. There was no way I could have imagined that this kind of detail would be one of my duties. By time it was over, I was sick to my stomach. The nightmares lasted for weeks. The guilt of what I had done made me an emotional wreck affecting everything – my marriage, play time with our newborn son (Claude Jr.). It was awful.
Our army didn’t have any psychologist and psychiatrist. We had a commanding officer who basically said: “It’s your job. These men are criminals – enemies of the Roman Empire. Just do it and stop talking like a wimp!” He threw a couple of colorful words and phrases in there too – but since we are in mixed company, I won’t repeat them.
My commanded was right, though. These guys were our enemies. We have blessed them with culure, civilization, order and structure. We had brought them the majesty that is Rome. Yet all they could do was gripe and complain and look for ways to make our lives miserable. It was my job to teach these folks a lesson and the cross was our symbol to them of what would happen to those who opposed us. I actually started looking forward to crucifixion detail in an odd sort of way. It was my job! It was my job to put these people in their place. It was for the good of the Roman Empire. It was for the good of those who watched these torturous executions. It reminded them to stay in their place and not to get too uppity. And the more cruel and heartless I could be, the more likely the cross would be a deterrent to other insurrectionist.
By the time my men and I had taken responsibility for Jesus, I had mellowed a bit. I had officiated over several dozen crucifixions; I was becoming rather indifferent to the whole matter. When it came to crucifixions, I thought I had seen it all. And here’s a little secret the politicians don’t like hearing: As a deterrent the cross wasn’t working. In fact, the more crosses we hung – the more rebellious the people became.
Like I said, the cross was dirty business. It was designed to be the most humiliating and degrading of all deaths. Roman Citizens were never executed on a cross. If a Roman committed a crime punishable by death – he was beheaded. That was a more instantaneous and merciful way to die. The cross was reserve for the slaves, foreign criminals, and political enemies. It was for those we considered the lowest of the low and the worse of the worst. Crucifixion was a slow, lingering, painful way to die.
Jesus must have done something pretty bad to warrant this kind of treatment – though for the life of me, I couldn’t imagine what that might be. Though strong and resolute, Jesus remained mostly humble and silent during all the court proceeding. He didn’t offer any sort of defense. He didn’t argue or plead for mercy. I am a soldier. I know a little bit about courage. I can tell you that it takes a lot of courage to put up with the kinds of things that Jesus was dealing with without loosing your composure.
Like I said, Pilate couldn’t find any legal precedent for ordering Jesus death. Pilate told the Jewish leaders: “Let me have him beaten to a pulp. Then we’ll release him and be done with it. He’ll no longer be a threat to anyone.”
The religious crowd and the Jewish leaders shouted “No!” Then they pulled their trump card. It was their political gambit. “This man is a threat to Caesar,” they said. “If you don’t have him crucified, you’re no friend of Caesar.” They knew my boss well. He was a creature of politics with ambitions that far exceeded this backwater region of Palestine. If he didn’t deal swiftly with suppose threats to Caesar, his political career was over.
“I’m washing my hands of the entire affair. Centurion, take this Jesus who crucify him.”
“Yes sir,” I said. “For the paperwork could you tell me the charge!”
Pilate replied: “He the king of Jews! Post that on the cross above his head. Let anyone who looks at it realize that’s what happens to kings who oppose Caesar!”
I have to tell you that those Jewish leaders were hopping mad when they heard about that. They wanted me to change the wording to say: “He says he is the King of the Jews!” But I knew better than to argue with my boss.
The men in my regiment decided to have a bit of cruel fun with Jesus. After a good beating with a whip, they fashions a crown of thorns and placed it on his head. Then they pretended to page homage to him by bowing before him. With the terrible abuse Jesus was receiving I started to wonder if Jesus would even make it to the cross.
“Alright you guys, that’s enough!” I commanded.
The cross beam was tied to Jesus backed – as well as the other two criminals. Then these men were poked and prodded to carry this cross beam through the city, outside the gate, and then up to the place we called Skull Hill (right near the trash dump). That’s where the execution would take place.
The folks along this way of suffering were a mixed bag. Some were trying to get their chores done before sundown and the beginning of the Jewish Sabbath. They seemed more annoyed than anything else. Others seemed ready to fight to get these men released. My men have to always be on their guard during a crucifixion. There were some women along the way – evidently these were friends of Jesus – who were (as you might imagine) weeping profusely. Others were casting jeers and insults. Still others seemed simply amazed by the spectacle of it all.
About a half mile from the place of the execution, Jesus collapsed. The beating had evidently taken its toll. He tried to get up. Despite everything he had been through, he focused to see this through to the end. I’d really never seen anything like this. It’s not like he wanted to die. Who does? It was more like he was determined to die. But the strain was just too much. I ordered my men to draft some poor sucker from the crowd who would be forced to carry the cross the rest of the way.
When we arrived at Skull Hill, I told my men to give Jesus a break and hang the other two first. Once the other men were hung, we nailed Jesus feet and arms to the cross. You may not know this, but when somebody dies on a cross, the actual cause of death is that they suffocate. The way they hang, the only way to breath is to push themselves up on their feet to catch a breath. Once they can no longer do this – then death is very near.
Once all three were hanging on the cross it was simply a waiting game. I think that this is when I really started to notice that there was something special about Jesus. Shortly after being hung on the cross – the onlookers appeared. Many of these are the victims of the criminal. In the case of Jesus, it was the religious elite who had begged Pilate to sanction Jesus death. They came with their jeers, insults, and curses – all ready to be hurled toward those on the cross. In reply the people hanging on the cross would use their dying breath to return those insults.
I’m use to that. I’ve been called nearly every curse word in the book. Then, after a while, these criminals want to make deals. Then finally they start begging for mercy. They want me to do something to expedite their death so their suffering can end.
Nothing prepared me for what would happen next. Right there in the midst of all this pain, suffering, sorrow and shame – Jesus pushed himself up and took a long breath. Then he shouted a prayer toward the heavens: “Father, forgive them.”
He said a lot of really amazing things that day – but this is the statement that really got to me the most.
“Father, forgive them.” I think that’s when I really started to recognize that there was something holy – something divine about this man called Jesus.
I am a hard-bitten soldier of the Roman Empire. I hide my emotions very well. But I have to tell you that I felt a tear rolling down my cheek. In my profession, you get to see a lot of acts of courage, bravery, and sacrifice. The men in my regiment would fight to the death for me – and for one another. They are a band of brothers. But this statement by Jesus was something different. He wasn’t one of my brothers. He was my enemy. Yet there he was, praying for me and for the rest of us who were there to officiate at his execution.
“Father, forgive them.”
What was it about this man that allowed him to pray that God would forgive those who were in the process of killing him? What was there about this man that made me feel that while he was hanging on the cross he was actually closer to God than I had been my entire life? What was it about his words that so impacted my life?
“Father, forgive them.”
I wouldn’t have had that kind of compassion if I were hanging in his place.
When I pray for my enemies I am asking for the strength to kill them.
It finally dawned on me in the moment that Jesus died. The sky was dark, the earth quaked, rocks split in two, and tombs were open – but that wasn’t the thing that really got to me. What got to me was the realization that God was not the enemy of my enemies. In fact, God was not even the enemies of His enemies.
The God of Jesus – the God whom he prayed to as “Father” – was a loving God who turned His enemies into friends by loving them and forgiving them. This God looked at me as I was doing this terrible deed and He forgave me.
As I thought about that, I couldn’t help but say it out loud. I didn’t care who heard me. “Surely this man was the Son of God!”
