"Petronius' Second Worst Week Ever"
Knox, 24 April, 2011 © Scott McAndless
Acts 10:34-43, Psalm 118:14-29, Matthew 28:1-15, Matthew 27:62-66
Men of the third legion, second cohort, first century, Ave Caesar! Men, at ease, it’s been an interesting week – well, interesting would be one word for it, I guess. I told you that Judea would not be a picnic. You didn’t believe me, but your old Centurion Gaius Petronius knows a thing or two. But we’ve done our duty – done everything that Governor Pilate asked of us and more. We’ve kept the peace in the city, kept the rabble who live in this place from expressing their treason against the empire and the Emperor.
And when some foolish sod went too far and created a disturbance in the temple – actually disrupting the sales of the sacrificial animals on one of the busiest days of the year – we did what had to be done. We couldn’t go into the temple, of course. That would have started a riot. But as soon as we could get him alone we took him in.
But the thing is that he didn’t seem like your ordinary, everyday, run-of-the-mill insurgent. He didn’t fight back. He didn’t even struggle. Worst of all, he wasn’t even afraid of us. Everyone is afraid of us – we are the Legions of Rome – but not him. There were times when it seemed as if he was almost sorry for us. We ferried him around while the Governor and his friends here decided how exactly they would deal with him (as if there were much question about it). And then yesterday who should be called on to take him and a few other rebel scum out to crucify them but the men of the third legion, second cohort, first century.
Now, I have heard the rumours that have been spreading around in the ranks. Don’t you deny it. I know everything that is said in those tents! It’s being said that when that man died and I was standing there on guard at the foot of his cross, I said something like that he must have been the Son of God. Well, I do admit that I said it but I was caught up in the emotion of the moment. There was something about how he died that made it seem like the world was upside down – but only for the moment.
I’m over it now. To call such a man a Son of God would be an act of treason. For there is only one son of a god that a Roman soldier owes allegiance to and that is Tiberius Caesar, son of Augustus the god. It was just that this man got me so confused that, for a while, I forgot myself. But now that he’s been taken care of, I’ll be fine. He’s in his tomb and all of the disturbing ideas that he brought with him can rot in there with him. Rome has triumphed as it always does. Peace and order – as defined by the Emperor – is the victor. And the man’s tomb can stand as the symbol that nothing will ever change.
And that brings me, men, to our new assignment. Quiet in the ranks! I know that a lot has fallen on you in the last few days but we have been ordered to guard the tomb of this man. Now we Romans are a superstitious lot. It is a bad omen to be assigned to work the graveyard shift. You don’t want to be there. I don’t want to be there. But we are men under authority and we do what we are told.
I have to wonder, though, why they think this is necessary. They say it’s because they want to make sure that this man’s followers don’t steal his body and claim some sort of divine miracle. But that is ridiculous. I’ve never seen such a lost, dispirited bunch of losers. They didn’t even dare to show their faces at his crucifixion and there’s supposed to be a danger that now they’re going to pull off a daring robbery of the corpse? Don’t make me laugh.
No, there’s something else they’re afraid of. But it doesn’t make sense. Our side has won, even if it doesn’t feel much like a victory. I’ll have to think on this. But first, men, we have a duty to do. The men of the third legion, second cohort, first century will report to the tomb for guard duty! By the right quick march!
Centurion Petronius surveys the tomb – a hole burrowed into the side of a hill, its entrance now covered with a massive stone that it took ten of his men to roll into place. As if that weren’t enough, a seal has also been put into place. The seal is only made of wax, of course, and it wouldn’t be hard for someone to break it except for what is embossed upon it: the emblem of Governor Pilate. As such it indicates that to break that seal is to challenge the authority of the governor and ultimately of the Emperor, Tiberius Caesar himself. In a sense, it is as if the governor is putting his very reputation on the line just to keep that tomb closed.
It is overkill. The stone, the seal, an entire company of crack soldiers – and for a man who is dead. Petronius was there at the foot of the cross and had no doubt that the man was fully and completely dead. Who sets a guard to keep a dead man in his tomb?
It can’t be because they are afraid his disciples would steal the body. That is just a pretext. They must be afraid of something else. They have beaten him – completely and utterly. He came along and said that things could be different – that outcasts could belong, that grace and love are more powerful than guilt and fear, that the meek (rather than the strong) will inherit the earth. He said that people didn’t have to live in the Empire of Caesar if they didn’t want to – that they could live in the kingdom of God instead – a kingdom that belongs to the poor. And, get this, he said that those who trusted him could even have eternal life. You know, crazy stuff.
But by crucifying him and putting him in this tomb, the empire has said no to all of those dangerous ideas. It has reasserted its authority. The stone and seal on the entrance are like the lid on a can of worms. They are like the cork in the genie’s bottle, the twist tie on the cat in the bag. That’s why it matters. That’s why Petronius’ troops are there.
And Petronius understands that. He has made every arrangement that he can. Surely nothing in heaven or on earth could possibly disturb the entrance to that tomb. He takes one more circuit of the sentries he has set. Everyone is awake and alert. And so, exhausted after a very long week, Petronius throws himself to the ground to catch a few minutes of sleep before the sun rises.
Vainly they watch his bed, Jesus my Saviour,
vainly they seal the dead, Jesus my Lord!
Up from the grave he arose;
with a mighty triumph o’er his foes;
he arose a victor from the dark domain,
and he lives forever, with his saints to reign.
He arose! He arose! Hallelujah! Christ arose!
Jesus came into this world to say yes. It was a yes to the poor of the world – those who lived on the margins of society and just managed to survive through day labour or, more often, living as slaves. Jesus loved these people whom everyone else blamed for their poverty. They said that it had to be their own fault if they had lost their lands and homes. But Jesus told them that they were blessed and the kingdom of God belonged to them. Jesus said yes to them.
But the authorities said no. The tomb, the stone, the seal were a massive, immovable no.
Jesus said yes to the outcasts – to the ones that everyone else rejected. He was a friend to the tax-collectors that no one else would be seen with. He ate with the sinners and even the prostitutes. And he said that they could understand more about the love and the grace and forgiveness of God than anyone else.
The powers of this world said no with a tomb of solid rock.
Jesus said yes to the sick. No one else would touch the lepers, but Jesus reached out his hand whenever he saw them. He healed the sick, he gave sight to the blind and let the lame walk. The people around him looked at those who were sick or not whole in some way and assumed that they must have sinned – much have done something wrong to deserve such infirmity. But Jesus refused to believe it. He said yes to them.
With a wax seal that warned all who approached that they must not touch, the world said no.
Jesus said yes to those who were victimized by senseless rules and laws. “Yes you don’t have to keep the Sabbath like they say you do. Yes it is not what goes into you that makes you unclean, only what comes out of your heart. Yes, compassion and care are always more important than law – the sick may be healed on the Sabbath and the Samaritan may approach the man on the side of the Jericho road without fear of becoming unclean. Yes, yes, yes, Jesus said.
But the laws and rules of this world said no. And they said it with a two tonne boulder.
Jesus said yes to the guilty – and even to those who were weighed down by feelings of guilt that they didn’t even actually deserve. He said yes you can be forgiven, yes you don’t have to carry around the weight of regrets or failures or loses. Yes you don’t have to let anyone manipulate you because they make you feel guilty. Yes, you can be free of all that.
And the world of darkness was particularly displeased at that one because guilt is one of its favourite tools. And its no was as uncompromising and unmovable as a stone.
And Jesus said yes to the dead and the dying and especially to all those whose fear of death is so great that it overshadows their very living and sucks all the joy out of it. Jesus said that death is not the final word – that it does not reign in this world.
And then death laughed at that for it knew that its power was unshakable. And death said no to Jesus’ yes with pain and suffering and a stone cold tomb with no exit because that is what death is.
But “Death cannot keep its prey, Jesus my Saviour; he tore the bars away, Jesus my Lord!
“Up from the grave he arose; with a mighty triumph o’er his foes; he arose a victor from the dark domain, and he lives forever, with his saints to reign. He arose! He arose! Hallelujah! Christ arose!”
Petronius’ job was to keep the stone and seal on that tomb. Of course it was improbable – indeed downright impossible – that anything could happen that would really challenge all the ways that the world worked. The no of the world was loud and clear. And so Petronius fell asleep on the grass because a soldier can sleep anywhere. And then the ground began to shake with God’s yes.