A Soldier’s Tale

Matthew 8:5-13; 2 Kings 5:1-5; Acts 2:1-4

Robert M. Watkins

Pentecost 2007

 

For Memorial Day, I have chosen a couple of the many biblical stories about a soldier, in this case those of a general and of a Roman centurion. As their stories unfold, it quickly becomes apparent that the tales will not focus on men of power, but on another form of authority. The real master within these stories is none other than the Holy Spirit.

 

Let me explain, beginning with our Old Testament lesson.

 

Naaman was an Aramean general, someone also granted tremendous power and the physical forces to back up his claim. As a human being, however, he comes up against things over which his power has no control—disease, for instance. He has been struck with leprosy—a death sentence at worst; a condemnation to a life lived in isolation in every other sense. He cannot order it away. He is trapped.

 

Nearly everyone here today has had a similar experience. We declare ourselves in control of every aspect of our lives only to be floored by an unexpected problem. Something rears up out of life’s road and sends us tripping and stumbling into utter helplessness. We quickly discover that we are in control of nothing really. Our power is an illusion.

 

More than one general has mentioned the same dictum in outlining strategies and plans for campaigns. Expect the unexpected. Use intelligence information, but realize there are limits to what it can know. There will be things that run completely beyond the control of everyone. That is wisdom.

 

Naaman, though, proves a bit thickheaded. While he accepts the surprise of one of his slaves knowing where and from whom to obtain a cure for his disease, he does not accept that cure when it comes. It seems too simple, too beneath him, and too ludicrous to be acceptable.

 

He misses the Holy Spirit in his midst. The knowledgeable slave was a Jewish girl. She sends her master home to the place that knows Yahweh, the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. In so doing, she recognizes the power of the Holy Spirit to call to anyone whom God chooses to call. She recognizes that faith is not tied to a particular ethnic identity or geopolitical circumstance—God is free to love whomever God wills and to be with whomever God chooses. That is also wisdom.

 

She is at one with the disciples in the Upper Room. Touched by the Holy Spirit, they are able to proclaim God’s good news to whomever they encounter, no matter whom they are or where they come from. God is extending an invitation to all of humanity to become part of God’s own fellowship.

 

It takes remarkable vision to be able to view the world as such. We so easily fall into categorizing one another and separating ourselves out from one another. In The Washington Post this week, columnist Mark Fisher lamented the fact that modern students, in the name of progressive thinking, are more willing and ready to segregate themselves and exclude themselves from one another than ever before. They see it as perfectly acceptable to refuse to coexist with someone whose views are offensive or just too different from one’s own. Mr. Fisher argues that such a stance is a sure and certain road to a completely divided people, grouped in their own little clans, and allows hate and prejudice to flourish. Pentecost is God’s own statement against such thinking. All human beings are children of God to be accepted and drawn into fellowship, even if there is disagreement among them—something that actually enriches the fellowship created, ironically.

 

Therefore, as the Spirit spoke through a girl serving a general, so, too, did the Spirit speak directly to a Roman centurion centuries later. A centurion was a commander over a troop of one hundred soldiers, as his title implies. As a Roman officer, he represents the most powerful earthly force known at the time of Christ. Yet, like Naaman, he is rendered powerless by an unexpected bump in life’s road. Surprisingly, with incredible humility, he sees at once that help will come from somewhere else, and, without Naaman’s irked sense of pride, he seeks out that power in what, according to Rome, was a ridiculous location—a wandering rabbi from a backwater known as Nazareth. Not only does he seek Jesus out, he actually submits to him, refusing to allow Jesus to trouble himself with a journey to his home. He simply states that he knows Jesus to have the power to remedy the situation.

 

That is faith defined—to believe what one cannot see or prove.

 

No wonder Jesus practically gushes in response to the centurion’s request. Here is a man with no business accepting a rabbi, much less the possibility that this rabbi is somehow holy in a way beyond all comprehension. Here is a man schooled in Roman power and custom. The Jews were a thorn in the Roman side. Their religion made no sense and their nationalism was troubling. Yet, God has quickened this soldier’s heart. God has ignored all rules of division and all cultural divides. In Christ, God does what every adherent to the faith would recoil from—God touches an unbeliever, a possibly hostile enemy, and accepts him for what he is.

 

The soldier departs blessed by God and his servant healed.

 

What Matthew is teaching us is the same thing the disciples learned in the Upper Room. The Holy Spirit is afoot within the world, seeking, touching, and claiming whomever it will. Our job is to ensure that those touched find welcome, no matter who they are or how they come to be among us. Our job is to proclaim the good news and to love all whom we encounter.

 

God already does so, and so should we.

 

Amen.