MARCUS – A ROMAN JAILER

I served as a jailer in the prison of Jerusalem. Prisoners were chained and locked up and likely would spend the rest of their lives in jail. Most would say I had an easy life, but that wouldn’t even come close to the horrors I’d experience on a daily basis. The prison cells are nothing like the jails of your time. These had been used and reused for many years. They weren’t sanitized or even slightly cleaned. The sweat, blood, tears and other bodily fluids of the prisoners remained as each new one came in. The smell was overwhelming. Since they were confined to their cells, you can’t begin to imagine what I was exposed to.

I am a soldier, first and foremost. I serve Rome as part of the military, but my job is to make sure that the prisoners remain alive until they come to trial. Most of them are thieves. Some have committed serious crimes, like murder, treason or worse. Rome didn’t have time or space for those who were religious fanatics or activists who spread their own ideas in the streets. Those were left to the leaders of the Jewish religious community. The church had great influence you see. I’d witnessed some of the corruption behind the temple walls. Things that upset the religious leaders might even include passing of bribes or payment for information regarding those who might cause problems for them. It wasn’t a perfect system, but it seemed to work for the most part. The only good thing about my experience as a jailer was being able to leave the prison and go home at the end of the day. The souls I left behind would have to remain and wallow in their misery.

As I walked through the city streets one late afternoon, I noticed one of my fellow soldiers, kneeling at the feet of a common man. It certainly looked strange. Usually, the general population would cower at the feet of law enforcement. There was a strong presence of the military in the city streets. Rome insisted on it. I watched and listened as the soldier begged for help from this man. Who was this stranger? I heard the soldier ask for the healing of one of his servants. The man he spoke to said He would come to the soldier’s house to heal the man. My compatriot said that wouldn’t be necessary. He knew that this man could heal with just a command. He was convinced of His authority.

I later discovered that the man was named Jesus. Jesus admired the soldier’s faith and healed his servant without any physical intervention. Just a simple word healed the servant. I thought about those suffering back in the jail. My heart suddenly ached for them and the chains that held them. It was something I’d never experienced. I heard Jesus words many times after that. He spoke about compassion and loving our enemies. This was new too. I had been taught from an early age, to fight my enemies not to love them. The chains that held me captive were finally released. I realized that this was not just another religious fanatic. It changed the way I felt about my job, my family, my own life. I was no longer a prisoner to those things. My bonds were set free, by the Messiah who had come to save everyone.