They had just been doing their job.
A prisoner had been condemned to die and handed over them for execution.
It wasn’t a task they were unaccustomed to.
So they did their job.
It’s hard though to say that they did it with conscience.
It’s truth from our fathers—
Do your job, but do it with conscience.
They mocked the prisoner… One who was on His way to die.
They slapped Him.
Spat on Him.
Divided His personal belongings among themselves.
Wove and put a crown of thorns on His head.
Crucified Him and sat to watch Him die.
They were just doing their job….
Like the person sent to oversee the eviction of a widow with three children.
Or the one sent to confirm the report that a single mother was selling contraband goods.
Or the person with the power to employ a young man with tainted record.
Or the person that comes across information that could tear an entire family apart, from the top down, leaving no one untouched or without scars.
Listen to the wisdom of our fathers—
Do your job, but do it with conscience.
As the soldiers watched the Prisoner, waiting for Him to die, suddenly, there was darkness all over the land that lasted three hours.
There was an earthquake.
The veil in the temple was split from the top down.
Graves were opened….
And then they realized….
They had just crucified the Son of God.
Sometimes I wonder what impact that moment of realization had on these men.
We are told that they were afraid, but I wonder how this fear affected their course and journey through life.
Did they become more sympathetic, maybe even empathetic?
Were they more patient and not too quick to judge people and situations?
Were they repentant and turned to God for help, or were they hardened, with hearts too calloused to feel anything?
Would they approach the widow with grace, or would they throw her things out carelessly, destroying what little she has left?
Knowing that it was for envy that the single mother with the contraband goods had been reported, would they offer her a chance at redemption, or would they leave her and her children with nothing?
Would they give the young man a chance to do better?
Would they do their part to save the family on the verge of destruction, being a vault for information that should not be common knowledge?
May it be our daily prayer that when evil comes, we would be a wall to stop the flow.
May we continually be agents of God’s goodness and grace.
May the words of our fathers ever ring in our ears; may we hear and do our jobs with conscience.
Because who knows—
What we’ve seen might be distorted views of the truth, and the strange looking ducklings might actually be swans.