In Matthew 8:5-13 and Luke 7:1-10, we read the story of a centurion -- an army officer -- whose slave Jesus healed from a deadly illness. It's often suggested that if Jesus had really believed in nonviolence, and taught and practiced it, and especially if Jesus had believed that warfare, as opposed to personal violence, was wrong, he would not have been so willing to help this military man. At first glance this seems like a plausible objection. After all, Jesus says nothing about the man's occupation; he doesn't even hint that there might be anything wrong in what he does for a living. In reality, however, this "contradiction" is anything but a contradiction. This story is actually one of the clearest and most striking examples of how Jesus lived out his teaching on nonviolence and love of enemies. The problem can be unraveled by asking a question so simple you may kick yourself (nonviolently, I hope!) for not having thought of it: in which army did the centurion serve, the Roman army or the Jewish army? The answer, of course, is the Roman army. That's what a centurion was, a Roman officer in charge of a unit of 100 men.

If the significance of this is not clear right away, ask yourself one other question: what was Jesus, a Roman or a Jew? The answer again is obvious; and as a Jew Jesus had every right to fear and to detest this officer. The centurion was a leader in the foreign army that was occupying Jesus' country, helping to extort oppressive taxes and tribute money from Jesus' people. He was not Jesus' friend, nor a friend to Jesus' family or his disciples. He was an enemy of the Jewish nation, and therefore an enemy to any loyal Jew. If Jesus had not practiced nonviolent love of enemies -- not only personal enemies but national enemies -- he would have been more likely to draw a sword on this man than to help him out in his distress.

If we consider Luke's version of the story, we find that this gospel writer has embellished it a bit in a way that underscores my point. Instead of the centurion coming to Jesus himself, he sends Jewish elders -- respected members of the Jewish community holding a position of leadership -- and they assure Jesus that this Roman officer is worthy of being helped by a Jewish prophet, since he had shown himself friendly to their nation, even to the point of paying to construct a synagogue. This makes it clear that a Roman centurion as such would not be expected either to have cordial relations with Jews or to receive help from them. This man believes that Jesus will help him only if he can make a case for himself as an exception to the rule. Luke's revision of the story fits in with an important theme of his, both in the gospel and in the book of Acts: there are Gentiles who have taken a positive interest in the Jewish faith and the Jewish people, and it is with them that faith in Jesus first makes inroads among non-Jews. This centurion prefigures another centurion friendly to Judaism, Cornelius, whose conversion in Acts 10 is an inaugural event in the Gentile mission. (Perhaps Luke is also presenting a model for the behavior of the Romans: rather than acting aggressively and oppressively, they should be humane and even generous toward those whom they dominate.)

The fact that Jesus does not demand that the centurion lay down his arms before he helps him further emphasizes Jesus' attitude of openness and love to one who was, in natural terms, his enemy. Perhaps we may infer that Jesus hoped his act of kindness, crossing the line between friend and foe in a way that washed away animosity by recognizing only their mutual humanity, would in itself be a proclamation of the gospel of love and peace that would move the centurion toward repentance. As is generally the case with the miracle stories, the text does not tell us what happened next in the centurion's life. But Jesus' actions toward the centurion are certainly consistent with his befriending of tax collectors -- Jews who profited by collaborating with the oppressive Roman occupation. They are also consistent with his teaching about "going the second mile" (Matthew 5:41, appropriately placed in the context of Jesus' teaching about nonresistance and love for enemies), for this teaching has in mind the Roman military practice of compelling victims of their occupation to carry a soldier's gear for one mile, but no more. By insisting on the second mile, a follower of Jesus will insist on his or her own humanity and freedom to choose love over the antagonism imposed by the structure of occupation. The Christian disciple will meet the enemy on the ground of their common humanity and force the soldier either to recognize the disciple's humanity or deny his own. In all these cases, Jesus opened himself to those whom, if he valued patriotism and national honor, he should have rejected. He seemed to trust that this openness of heart and hands, rather than vindictiveness and violence, would be the first step toward bringing about the change of heart, and the change of actions, he would have desired from those who were hostile to his and his people's wellbeing.

Does Jesus' approach make sense? Was it effective? Apparently not -- he ended up on a Roman cross, with no friendly centurion to save him. But the Christian faith is that this was only the apparent result, and that in the end God vindicated Jesus and his way by raising him from the death to which the authorities of the world had condemned him. In human terms, Jesus' treatment of the centurion makes no sense at all; it is weak, foolish, ineffectual, and dangerous. It is, in short, the gospel. If Christians are those who believe the gospel; who take Jesus, in all his weakness and all his strength, as their Savior; who follow him, and so take up the cross themselves and have nothing to preach but "Jesus Christ and him crucified," "a stumbling block to Jews and foolishness to Gentiles" (see Mark 8:34-37; 1 Cor 1:23; 2:2) -- what choice have we but to be people of nonviolence and peace?

David Rensberger is Professor of New Testament at the Interdenominational Theological Center in Atlanta. He has written extensively about the gospel and letters of John and on Christian spirituality. drensberger@itc.edu

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