A Week in the Life of a Roman Centurion

by Gary M Burge

  “Rome has sent me here to ensure the collection of taxes and the stability of the region,” Appius said. “I trust that you are contributing to both equally.” Appius had read his tone correctly and returned the volley. Chuza smiled and continued to look at Livia. Appius told her to leave the room.

  “I care about one thing,” Chuza said. “And that is the cooperation of this district. But you should know this, Appius. The district is not peaceful. There are many who would rebel, and we have seen a number of rebellions thus far. The echo of the rebel Judas the Galilean over twenty years ago still rings in these hills. There are always prophets and self-appointed messiahs who claim that God is leading them to restore Jewish rule on their terms. A man named John surfaced not long ago, and Antipas had him killed. He was an arrogant meddler in Antipas’s personal life. No one was surprised at what happened to him. Even his followers admire martyrdom.”

  “And has this stopped the rebellions?”

  “No. These people produce prophets endlessly. Even today there is a man from Nazareth who moves from village to village claiming to be yet another one of them. We watch him closely, and so should you.”

  John the Baptist

  Chuza is referring to John the Baptist, whose prophetic ministry criticized the marriage of Herod Antipas to his brother’s wife, Herodias. Antipas ruled not only western Galilee but the east shore of the Jordan River all the way to the Dead Sea (then called Perea). Therefore John the Baptist was within Antipas’s rule. The Gospel of Mark tells the full story of Antipas’s anxiety about John the Baptist (Mk 6:14-29), how he had the prophet beheaded and how he worried that in some manner Jesus was empowered by the resurrected Baptist who had returned to haunt him.

  Any Roman or Jewish ruler in Galilee would have viewed the popular following of both John the Baptist and Jesus with considerable suspicion. John spoke openly about the corruption of the Jewish leadership and targeted Herod Antipas of Galilee in particular. His criticism of the Jerusalem leadership was equally harsh. “But when he saw many of the Pharisees and Sadducees coming for baptism, he said to them, ‘You brood of vipers! Who warned you to flee from the coming wrath? Produce fruit in keeping with repentance. And do not think you can say to yourselves, “We have Abraham as our father.” I tell you that out of these stones God can raise up children for Abraham. The ax is already at the root of the trees, and every tree that does not produce good fruit will be cut down and thrown into the fire’” (Mt 3:7-10). These sentiments echo the attitudes of the sectarian Jews who lived at Qumran near the Dead Sea. They too were committed to a purity of faith only found in the desert and were deeply suspicious of those who held institutional religious power.

  “Has he ever entered Capernaum?”

  “Yes. And you need to know his language is cleverly political. He gathers large crowds and talks openly about his own kingdom. His soldiers are these peasants you find in every village.”

  “Surely not all these people are as you think.”

  “Most are. Which is why you are here. Your sword is all we need. It is what your commanders require. I know them well and have discussed your assignment here with them already. I am sure they look to your success . . . our success. We speak to them in Caesarea regularly.”

  Appius’s dislike for this man was clearly growing. He led every conversation with entitlement and presumption. Worse yet, he seemed to view Appius as working for him. His reference to Caesarea was offensive, and Appius wouldn’t stand for it.

  “And your success, Chuza? You assume that your interests are the same as Rome. Am I wrong?” Appius began to press Chuza’s assumptions. “Perhaps the sword is not the only means of pacifying a village.”

  “It is the only language they understand.”

  “Look. Do you want my support or not? I am the only military unit in this district, and if you want protection from rebels, you need what I have.”

  Chuza felt the change in tone and paused. “And what do you offer?”

  “But it will come on my terms, Chuza. I can have a cohort here in days, but you have nothing but a small band of untested fighters. Do not think you can demand Rome to serve your bidding. My commanders in Caesarea and Raphana have the fullest trust in me. And for you to meddle in my affairs will not serve you well.”

  Judas the Galilean

  (from Gamla)

  Judas the Galilean was one of many Jewish rebels who resisted Roman rule in the first century. First-century Jewish historian Josephus refers to him (Antiquities 18.4-5, 23), as does the New Testament (Acts 5:37). Such men led uprisings inspired by a theocratic nationalism, claiming that God alone was the true ruler of Judea and that the Romans must be expelled. They opposed Roman taxation as a form of slavery, assumed that God would speedily come to their aid and had no fear of martyrdom. Josephus’s description: “Yet there was one Judas . . . of a city whose name was Gamla, who . . . became zealous to draw them to a revolt, who both said that this taxation was no better than an introduction to slavery, and exhorted the nation to assert their liberty.”

  Judas’s revolt took place in A.D. 6, and it was crushed violently by Rome and served as a Roman warning to any subsequent leaders who might try to do the same.

  What did leaders such as Judas read for inspiration? Certainly the conquests of Joshua contributed to their confidence. But particularly the defeat of the Greeks in the Maccabean era (second century B.C.) modeled how the Romans could be defeated. They did not have to go far into their own contemporary writings to find a religious militancy fully displayed. The first-century B.C. Psalms of Solomon offers a prayer for conquest that dreams of purifying Judea of all Gentiles:

  “Behold, O Lord, and raise up for them their king, the Son of David, at the appointed time which you, O God, did choose, that he may reign over Israel your servant. And gird him with strength, that he may shatter unrighteous rulers, and may cleanse Jerusalem from the gentiles that trample her down in destruction. Wisely and righteously let him expel sinners from the inheritance, and destroy the sinner’s pride as a potter’s vessel. With a rod of iron may he break in pieces all their resources. Let him destroy the lawless gentiles by the word of his mouth” (Pss. Sol. 17:21-24).a

  aTranslation from R. P. Martin, New Testament Foundations (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1975), 1:110-11.

  Appius walked across the room and slowly removed Chuza’s wine chalice from his hand, setting it on a table. “You enter my household, you drink my wine, and you demand that I pour more. It is Rome that gives you everything you have. With a simple order, Legion Gallica could march on your city of Sepphoris and destroy it in days.” Appius stepped closer. “This village is under my command, and for you to jeopardize it will put your own master Herod Antipas in jeopardy with Rome.”

  Chuza seemed astonished at Appius’s abrupt shift. He looked to his assistants, who stood nervously nearby. Marcus stepped closer to the conversation to be visible—and it was clear that he was a man that did not like talk.

  “And what do you think might pacify this village, Appius?”

  “We are going to make a start by giving them a gift and obligating them to obedience.” Appius was smiling, knowing how unexpected this idea might be.

  “We are going to make these villagers value our rule and see Rome as their savior. This is the Roman way throughout the empire, from Spain to Syria, and it is evident that you who live in these remote hills do not understand it.” The last words were meant to sting, and Tullus saw they had hit their mark.

  Appius folded his arms and began what sounded like a lecture. “Rome wants allies, not mere subjects. If they choose not to be allies, then we will devastate them. But they require a choice first. We will trade: safety and security for their loyalty. And you watch: this bargain will win them. Judea and Syria belong to us, but if Persia should attack these regions, we do not want these people turning against us without cause. And you, Chuza, would cause the very rebellions you try to suppress.”

  Appius now called Tullus to his side, but
the scribe had no idea what was about to happen. “We have a project, and you will join it. We are going to build Capernaum’s first public building. Not a basilica or a temple—but something modest. We will lay the foundation for their religious house. I will pay for its foundation, and you will pay for its walls. If, of course, you wish my support.”

  “I have never heard—”

  “We need discuss it no further,” Appius interrupted. He asked Tullus for the amounts that would be needed, which Tullus made up on the spot. “And these monies will be delivered to me within the week. It is a small sum considering what you paid to build Sepphoris.”

  “And if I refuse?” Tullus could see the anger rising in Chuza’s face. He was trapped.

  “Gladly refuse. And word of a dangerous, corrupt steward will be known from here to Sepphoris. You must decide, Chuza,” and here Appius spoke slowly, “you must decide if you are a friend of Caesar. Declare yourself. And I will convey your word widely.”

  Friend of Caesar

  (Amicus Caesaris)

  When Appius threatens Chuza with this term, he is employing a severe tactic that had a long Greek and Roman history.

  For the Romans friendship was not a casual term. They discussed it at great length (Latin amicitia; Greek philia) and wrote about it extensively. The famous Roman poet Martial satirized it for the emperor whose only friends viewed friendship as benefit (Discourses 5.19). But the great orator Marcus Tullius Cicero produced an entire book on it (De Amicitia) in which he explores and profiles his own experiences with amicitia and sees it as one of the greatest virtues. We even have four hundred letters of Cicero to his lifelong friend, Atticus, that spanned their childhood to Cicero’s death in 43 B.C., and this provides a direct window into the lived virtue. Cicero’s famous On Old Age (De Senectute, 44 B.C.) was dedicated to his friend Atticus at the end of their lives.

  Amicitia could refer to personal affection or sentiment (as in modern use), but usually it referred to something more: alliances, patron/client relations, or deep loyalty. This concept of friendship as loyalty may be behind Jesus’ words in John 15:13-15. Jesus is reframing his relationship with his followers in terms they would have recognized: He was their lord to whom they had pledged ultimate allegiance. They would not betray one another.

  But this is not Appius’s interest with Chuza. His use is specialized and political. “Friend of Caesar” (Latin amicus Caesaris or amicus Augusti) was an important political term that began in the Hellenistic period to identify those with trustworthy loyalty to the state or its ruler. The Romans developed it into a technical term to identify either states or people who were allies to Rome (Amici populi Romani).

  Loss of this title was serious and considered the same as condemnation as a criminal. It meant that one stood against the will of Rome and thus was subversive. In the reign of Tiberius we know of a number of Romans whose careers ended tragically when they were claimed to be “unpatriotic.”

  This sort of political leverage is seen clearly in John 19:12, when the Jewish leaders threaten Pilate by saying, “If you let this man go, you are no friend of Caesar. Anyone who claims to be a king opposes Caesar.” Essentially they are threatening to ruin Pilate’s career by reporting his disloyalty to Rome.

  When the elders of Capernaum began laying out the groundwork for the building of the synagogue, they thought they were living in a dream. Appius delivered the funding he promised but declined to reveal all its sources. Chuza’s money had been delivered promptly by one of his servants, and when it was in hand, Appius dismissed him promptly. As far as the elders knew, this gift was something that emerged from Appius’s own purse. From Appius’s vantage, it was his opportunity to win honor in the eyes of the people he had come to control.

  Soon stonecutters from throughout the area began migrating to Capernaum to lend a hand in the work and earn what they could. They carved the foundation blocks from the black basalt stone found naturally throughout the northern coastline. Each of Capernaum’s homes was built from it, but now they had the money to cut larger blocks that would support something they thought would be monumental, at least from the perspective of the fishing village. The rubble from abandoned houses was leveled in the center of the village, and a stone-and-dirt platform was built. This was the base on which enormous blocks of basalt were hauled into place for the floor of the prayer hall.

  Figure 9.2. Remains of homes at Capernaum

  Tullus and Appius were both amazed at how rapidly this project changed the atmosphere of Capernaum. It was a project, a shared project, money was flowing freely to workers, and excitement was in the air. New optimism swept over Capernaum. Nevertheless, whenever they neared the building site—and Tobias was present, as he always seemed to be—the elder intercepted them. His intentions could hardly be missed. They were Gentiles, and this was to be a building dedicated to God. It seemed foolish and ironic to Appius. Here he was, paying for a building to benefit the Jews, and Tobias was doing his best to keep him away from it.

  One afternoon Mariam, watching Tobias perform the same tired ritual with Appius, called him over. Mariam was not known for wasting time.

  “So you’ll accept a Gentile’s money, but you won’t let him see what he’s bought?”

  Tobias blinked. “We want our prayer hall to bless God, don’t we?”

  “And God won’t be blessed if other people pray in it?”

  “The Scripture tells us that when Nehemiah rebuilt the temple he had to separate himself from foreigners. We are building our synagogue. Should it be less holy?”

  Mariam, as if she’d been waiting a lifetime to recite a verse to Tobias, said, “But didn’t Moses tell us: ‘When foreigners reside among you in your land, do not mistreat them. The foreigners residing among you must be treated as your native-born. Love them as yourself, for you were foreigners in Egypt. I am the LORD your God.’”

  Tobias was barely amused. “But those Gentiles had to obey the law. Does God neglect his law for Gentiles and require it of us?”

  Mariam’s frustration peaked. “And what about those of us who lived before Moses? Did God reject Abraham? He wasn’t even circumcised, and God was with him! At least you could treat Appius like Abraham treated Melchizedek.”

  Stalemate. This is how it often ended with Tobias and Mariam, old friends that they were. In the end, neither of them ever felt satisfied.

  Appius understood the boundaries that most of the Jews enforced between him and their world. He never entered their homes, and he never invited them to enter his. He watched from a distance. And while he felt that good progress had been made in Capernaum, still, he wondered what would become of his relationship with Chuza. The man believed that this village was his personal resource, not just for Antipas’s tax burden but for his own profit as well. And this synagogue represented his loss of face, his dishonor and, above all, his loss of money. Appius wondered whether Chuza would let this pass so easily.

  Mariam Versus Tobias

  The conversation that Mariam and Tobias have centers on the appropriate relationship between Judaism and the Gentile world. Progressive Jews, particularly those who lived in the greater Diaspora, were comfortable with Gentile contact. Others who were more conservative insisted on separation and pursued ritual purity intensely. The debate circled around questions of the preservation of racial purity and the importance of Jewish election and its exceptionalism.

  But the question remained: How could Israel be a light to the nations when it prohibited any contact with those nations? The temple in Jerusalem became a flashpoint in this debate. Should Gentiles be permitted to enter it and participate in its ceremonies and sacrifices? In the first century, conservatives succeeded in having a wall built in the temple, limiting access to Gentiles. But Jesus found this sort of exclusion offensive. In his temple cleansing he remarked, “Is it not written, ‘My house shall be called a house of prayer for all the nations’? But you have made it a den of robbers.” Here Jesus is in Mariam’s camp, arguing for inclu
sivity and welcome to Gentiles or “all nations.”

  In this exchange Mariam and Tobias are citing familiar texts from the Old Testament. Tobias’s first volley is likely an echo of Nehemiah 9:2. Miriam cites in response Leviticus 19:33-34. The reference to Melchizedek comes from Genesis 14.

  The Capernaum Synagogue

  Visitors to Capernaum today can see a white limestone synagogue at the center of the excavated village. This white synagogue is likely from the fourth century A.D. However, beneath its floor is a foundation of black basalt, the native building material of this region. Basalt is produced by volcanic activity, and the entire region of Galilee for hundreds of miles has evidence of ancient lava flows.

  Figure 9.3. Remains of the fourth-century synagogue at Caesarea

  Scholars are convinced that this basalt layer is the foundation of the original synagogue, perhaps from the first century. An excavation begun in the 1960s uncovered the perimeter around the fourth-century synagogue and opened the main floor in the central prayer hall. The earlier basalt foundation is clearly visible on the east exterior of the white synagogue. Beneath the basalt, scholars have found home debris from the Hellenistic era: stairs, waterways and walls. (An example of a basalt synagogue from the fourth century can be found in nearby Chorazin, just north of Capernaum.)

  Figure 9.4. First-century black basalt foundation of the synagogue at Caesarea

  It was in Capernaum’s basalt synagogue that Jesus completed his first exorcism (Mk 2:1-12). Luke tells us that the centurion of Capernaum paid for its construction (Lk 7:5). But no doubt the Jews of Capernaum had a place of meeting that they used before this. Wherever they met, it would have been called a synagogue.