Surely He Was God’s Son

Mark 15:33-39

March 17, 2024 • Mount Pleasant UMC

It may very well be the worst line ever delivered by the legendary actor John Wayne, maybe by any actor. When I first told Pastor Rick about it a few years ago, he didn’t believe me that John Wayne is in the film The Greatest Story Ever Told. It’s very brief, but he plays a Roman centurion. He has one line, and there’s no question in my mind that he’s phoning it in. See if you disagree with me.

You almost expect him to say “Pilgrim” at the end, don’t you? And yet this scene, which is so bad in the film, is a very powerful moment in the story of Jesus’ crucifixion. And so we want to take some time with it this morning, more time than John Wayne took with it apparently, as we continue this series on “Words to the Cross.” This Lenten season, we’ve been looking at the ways people respond to what is happening on that center cross on a hillside outside Jerusalem. We’ve heard from the crowds, from Pilate, from one of the other criminals beside Jesus and from the soldiers at the foot of the cross. But when Jesus dies, one of those soldiers recognizes something different about the man in the middle, and he can’t help but express what is in his heart. He says that the one in the middle is “God’s son,” a somewhat shocking confession. What does he mean? And what can we learn from him?

The Roman army in the first century was one of the most powerful fighting forces the world has ever known. Their military success had conquered most of the known world at that time, establishing this huge empire that answered to Caesar. To be a leader in such a system required a great deal of courage, discipline and inner strength. They were not “soft-hearted people,” and they were not easily swayed by popular opinion. Romans centurions, who would have had roughly a hundred men under their command, appear four times throughout the New Testament, and each time they are portrayed as honorable men. Their job both demanded and developed character. The Roman army rose or fell with the strength of its centurions (cf. Kalas, Seven Words to the Cross, pg. 42).

I think it’s likely that the centurion Mark tells us about was probably part of the group of soldiers who came to Gethsemane to arrest Jesus the night before. Maybe he was in charge of the group, we don’t know exactly. We also don’t know if he had heard anything about Jesus before this, but for the past several hours he has most likely had a front-row seat to who this man from Galilee is. It’s very likely he has been with or near Jesus all night, watching how he reacts to the crowd, to Pilate, and to those who are mocking him as he was nailed to the cross. He’s been there as Jesus was beaten, as the soldiers dressed him as a king and hit him with sticks, as they put a crown of thorns on Jesus’ head. Perhaps this centurion was even one of those who had the hammer in his hands, directly involved in Jesus’ execution. Maybe he was even covered in the blood of all three men as he oversaw their executions (cf. Card, Mark: The Gospel of Passion, pg. 184). It wouldn’t have been abnormal; death was a big part of his job. And once the job was done, he became part of the crowd, waiting on these men to die.

And as he watches, as he listens, as he also keeps one eye on the crowd to make sure there are no problems, he can’t help but notice something different about the man on the middle cross, the one the leaders both religious and secular rushed to crucify today. Here’s how Ellsworth Kalas describes it: “This one on the center cross was not behaving as people were supposed to in the process of execution. He didn’t curse the heartless ones who mocked him, nor did he rail against the fate that had hung him there. In fact, at one point he had even prayed for the people who were berating him, saying that they didn’t realize what they were doing” (43). This man in the middle was not your usual criminal. While the other two were agitated, even violent, fighting against death, Jesus seemed calm, giving in to his fate.

This centurion knew how crucifixion victims died. It usually took quite a while, maybe several days. Crucifixion was death by suffocation, as the body weakened and collapsed in upon itself. When the condemned could no longer push up to breathe, death would follow (cf. Kernaghan, Mark [IVPNTC], pg. 334). But Jesus did not die that way. Matthew, Mark and Luke all tell us that Jesus died with a “loud cry” or a shout (15:37). You have to look at the Gospel of John (19:30) to learn what that “shout” was. It was, in Aramaic, a single word: tetelestai, most commonly translated as “Finished!” It’s a word that was used to describe someone whose work for the day was done and they were laying their head back on a pillow to rest. Finished! And after that, “Jesus breathed his last” (15:37). The other two would die more conventionally, although the soldiers would break their legs to hasten their deaths, but Jesus died on his own terms, and at a time of his choosing. In fact, John says Jesus “gave up his spirit” (19:30). It was intentional, his choice. And that was what caused this centurion to speak back to the cross, in a way I’m sure was more passionate and engaged than the way John Wayne said it: “Surely this man was the Son of God” (19:39)!

Remember, again, this man was battle-hardened, a disciplined career soldier. He had seen men die, both on the battle field and in execution settings like this. Death was no stranger to him. And yet, something in the way Jesus died caught his attention and called out this confession, this statement of faith. Or, at least, we usually take it that way. We’re not quite sure what he meant when he called Jesus the “Son of God,” because that would have normally been a title only given to the Roman emperor (cf. Card 184). It is, at a basic level, a title for a king (cf. McKnight, Mark, pg. 267), and it’s possible that the centurion could have meant he saw Jesus as a “divine man or a deified hero” (Kernaghan 335). Our English translations don’t help because in the original text there is no “the” there. What the centurion apparently said is more like, “This man was son of God,” and so in his cultural context he could have meant Jesus was a son of any number of Roman gods, an important person but not necessarily the savior of the world (cf. Kernaghan 335).

And yet, this centurion was speaking truth even if he didn’t know it, a lot like Pilate who we looked at a few weeks ago. Both men were speaking more than they knew. And Mark emphasizes that even more by telling us what was happening at the very same time this centurion is making his confession. Mark says, “The curtain of the temple was torn in two from top to bottom” (15:38). Of course, the centurion wouldn’t have known this; the Temple is a ways from Calvary. But the symbolism can’t be missed and the timing can’t be a mistake. This curtain that is described is not like ours back here, which is mainly there to hide the stuff we want to shove backstage. No, this curtain that Mark is talking about is probably the one that separated the main part of the Temple from the Holy of Holies. It was huge, 60 feet tall, and it marked off the place where God was said to live, the place where only a priest was allowed to go once a year and only then after extensive preparations. Today, of course, the Temple is no more but if you go up on the Temple mount, you’ll see an area that is marked off because it’s believed to be the area where the Holy of Holies once was. It’s marked off so that no one accidentally steps into the area where God is said to live and ends up being killed. But that’s just the point of the curtain being torn. With the death of Jesus, the presence of God is no longer curtained off from so-called “ordinary people.” God’s presence is now open and available to everyone because of what Jesus has done on the cross. And that, I believe, is why these two things happened at once, as Mark tells it. Because of what Jesus has done, even a Gentile man, even a Roman soldier, is welcome in God’s presence. And if this one who has participated in the death of Jesus is welcome, then we all are welcome (cf. Card 185).

Now, I want to take a brief step back and ask why Mark includes the story of this centurion. After all, it’s just one little verse in our Bibles, easy to rush past, and there were countless people who reacted to Jesus breathing his last. Why does Mark zoom in on this one soldier? Mark, most likely, wrote his Gospel for Romans. He was a companion of Peter, who lived his last days in Rome, and Mark’s Gospel is largely believed to be Peter’s memoir, or the things Mark heard Peter preach about and later wrote down. And probably Mark is writing in the aftermath of the great Roman fire, when emperor Nero blamed the Christians for a fire he himself created. Nero had a majority of the city burned down so he could build what he wanted to build (cf. Card 22-24). But after the fire, because people believed Nero’s accusations, persecution of Christians rose. Picture a Roman soldier in the latter half of the first century, one who has decided to follow Jesus, now torn between his loyalty to his job and his Lord. Would it not be an encouragement to him to know that, at the cross, there was a man just like him who recognized the truth about Jesus? Within the house churches in Rome were men (and women, too) who needed to hear the testimony of this centurion, brief as it is, and so Mark faithfully included this man’s word in order to strengthen the church in Rome (cf. Kernaghan 17-18; Card 17-19).

Because we all need to hear a testimony from time to time. We all are encouraged by the stories of people, especially if they are people just like us, when we go through a difficult time. Something happens to this centurion, and I wish we knew what his life was like after this moment, because I don’t believe he could have gone back to being the same person after this moment. Something changes him and challenges what he believes. And while he may not understand it all right at that moment, he confesses what he knows to be true. Something is different, significant about the man on the middle cross. It may have taken him a lifetime to figure it out, but he still spoke the truth as he knew it, as he had experienced it.

One of the things this soldier reminds us is of the importance of a testimony. Now, “testimony” is a funny word. For some, it might bring up images of have to “testify” in court or in some legal setting. But when we use the word in church—and it’s one of those fun, churchy words we do sometimes use—it refers to telling our story of how God has met us and changed our lives. Of course, that’s really what you do in the legal sense, too. A testimony is simply telling what has happened to you, telling your story. And it doesn’t have to be a long story; the centurion’s testimony was rather short: “Surely this man was the Son of God!” That’s it. Sharing a testimony is a matter of telling your story, whatever it is. No one else call tell it for you and they can’t argue with it because it’s your story.

From time to time, we’ve mentioned the “little show that could” called The Chosen which started out as a side project for an out of work movie director and has really turned into an international phenomenon. But one of the most powerful moments in that show comes near the beginning, when the rabbi Nicodemus asks Mary Magdalene how she was healed. Listen to what she says.

That’s her story, her testimony: “The thing that happened in between was him.” It wasn’t dramatic, but because of a moment, she says, she will know him for the rest of her life. Sometimes I hear people describe one story or another as “powerful” and what I’ve learned is that usually means “dramatic.” But one person’s story of being changed by Jesus is not more or less powerful than another person’s because Jesus works in each person differently. More dramatic does not mean better. One testimony is not better than another. The important thing is that you know your story, the way he worked in the “in between,” and that you share it with others.

Sometimes people will ask, “Do you have a testimony?” Here’s the truth: we all do. We all have a story to tell of what God has done and what he continues to do and how he made a difference or a change in our lives. In fact, those are three really simple questions you can use to sort of frame your story. What did God do in your life to turn you around? What difference or change have you seen because of Jesus’ presence in your life? And what is God doing in your life right now? Your story doesn’t have to be big and it should’t be long. I’ve encouraged you before to think of it as an elevator speech, something that can be shared in the time it takes to ride from the top to the bottom on an elevator, because some days that might be all the time you have. Just tell someone the difference that Jesus has made for you. That’s what the centurion did: “Surely this man was the Son of God!” Short and to the point, just like yours can be and should be. “Short” does not mean “less powerful.”

Peter, whose memories are what make up the Gospel of Mark you remember, once reminded the church to have their story ready. He wrote this: “Always be prepared to give an answer to everyone who asks you to give the reason for the hope that you have. But do this with gentleness and respect…” (1 Peter 3:15-16). As I said earlier, we don’t have any insight from Mark as to what, exactly, the centurion meant by these words. Needless to say, he certainly didn’t understand everything about those words, that phrase, when he was standing there by the cross. He was simply speaking under, as Ellsworth Kalas puts it, “a grand compulsion of the soul” (46). And, if he indeed put his trust in Jesus, he undoubtedly grew to know more and more what that meant. When I was a fifth grader and trusted Jesus on my own for the first time, I would have told you who Jesus was through the lens of a fifth grader’s understanding. Which is to say it would not have all been theologically correct. I’m sure I would have gotten some things wrong. Even now, after many years of walking with Jesus, I still don’t have it all right. He keeps showing up in ways I don’t expect all the time. But I keep telling my story knowing that Jesus will take whatever little faith I offer and use it in some way to change the world, even if only for one person.

Today is St. Patrick’s Day, as you probably know. And in the current context, it is a day dedicated to Irish culture, green beer, shamrocks and leprechauns. He gets called St. Paddy or St. Pat, and by and large what people know of his story is that it somehow loosely connects to Ireland and that he supposedly led all the snakes out of that country. His real story is much more intriguing. Patrick was taken from his native Britain to Ireland as a slave. He was sixteen years old when he was separated from his home, and it was six years before he escaped from his master and ran to a seaport two hundred miles away. Once there, he convinced a ship’s captain to take him home where he was reunited with his family. He had deepened his faith while in captivity, and once home he sought to study more about Christianity and was eventually ordained to the priesthood. About the same time, he had a vision of people from Ireland asking him to come walk among them, and so he acted on that vision, becoming a missionary to the country that once enslaved him. He spent the rest of his life in Ireland telling his story and the way Jesus had loved him, cared for him and rescued him. Much of what we know about his life is probably legendary, but one thing is for certain: he shared the story of God’s son thousands upon thousands of time and helped a people find faith in the Son of God. Patrick knew how to tell his story. We need to learn that again because we are in a world, much like the Ireland Patrick was sent to, that is dying because they need to know Jesus.

A word of warning, though, as we wrap up. If you share your story, if you talk about this one who is the Son of God, you might get a lot of different reactions. Some people may ignore you, just as some gathered there by the foot of the cross probably ignored the centurion. Others might dismiss you as a “religious fanatic,” someone who has gotten way too serious about this Jesus thing. That’s okay; keep telling the story because whether people listen to you or believe you or not, the story is still true. And some might even threaten you. I heard a story this week from a friend of mine who was physically threatened because of the truth of the story he told. Sometimes the truth agitates people. But we keep telling the story. And sometimes, some places, someone might hear your story and come to the same conclusion you have and the same conclusion that the centurion did: “Surely this man was the Son of God” (cf. Kalas 46). Keep telling your story. It is what the world needs to hear. Let’s pray.