The Gladiator's Salute: We Who Are About to Die...

I saw the movie Gladiator years ago, and I remember nothing at all about it except that it's about a gladiator, and that Russel Crowe played the main role. But today, the gladiator's traditional salute resounded in my mind as I read the final sentence in today's Scripture passage. "Hail, Caesar, we who are about to die salute you..." which kicked off a character study of one of Jesus' disciples I haven't thought much about before: Thomas, also called Didymus.

Um... how, dear Tamara, do you get a gladiator's salute out of the beginning of the story of Jesus raising Lazarus from the dead?

I'm so glad you asked. Let me explain.

John 11:1-16 introduces the characters for today's scene. Jesus is close friends with a man named Lazarus and his two sisters, Mary and Martha. To connect this family with other events in Scripture, this is the same Lazarus at whose house Jesus has dinner, and the same Mary who sits at Jesus' feet while Martha bustles and grows frustrated in the kitchen. It's also the same Mary who, at this very dinner, grabs her super expensive bottle of nard (perfume) and pours it out on Jesus' feet while He reclines at the table. Then she does the completely scandalous act of unbinding her hair in public and wiping Jesus' feet with it. This act is hugely symbolic, and since it's coming up in the next chapter, I'll save my commentary on that for later.

Anyway, Mary and Martha send word to Jesus Who is somewhere not in Judea (possibly Galilee?) with the message: "Jesus, the one You love is sick." 

I find it interesting the way John penned this sentence. He has described himself in other parts of this gospel as "the disciple whom Jesus loved." Since Jesus loved all His disciples, this denotes a close relationship, closer even than the other eleven. So when John writes "the one You love," I think he was placing Lazarus and -- later in verse 5 -- his sisters Mary and Martha ("Jesus loved Martha and her sister Mary and Lazarus") on another playing field from many of Jesus' followers.

My kids might call it "BFFs." Maybe Jesus is BFFs with John, Lazarus, Mary, and Martha. 

When Jesus receives Mary and Martha's message, He makes a strange statement: "This sickness will not end in death. No, it is for God's glory so that God's Son might be glorified through it." 

Think for a minute: Jesus says something will not happen -- yet, clearly, the something Jesus says will not happen -- in the eyes of the world, in the eyes of Mary and Martha, even in the eyes of the disciples, men who know, know, that Jesus is the Son of God -- happens. Lazarus dies. 

And Jesus knows it. "Lazarus is dead," says Jesus in 11:14, "and for your sake, I am glad I was not there, so that you may believe. But let us go to him."

So... why does Jesus say something will not occur that clearly does occur? Has this ever happened to us? Do we ever think our perspective is the be-all-end-all of the matter? Of course we do. It's why the world has flipped upside-down in the last few days. Every person thinks their own perspective is the correct one, and no one can offer the grace of understanding to anyone else. It's why we are where we are. But I'll leave that particular hornet's nest there and move on.

Jesus waits two days before He tells the disciples: "Let us go back to Judea."

Judea! The last time the disciples have been in Judea, the Jews there try to kill Jesus. It's dangerous. Jesus' life is at stake with this harebrained idea, and it won't be only Jesus who could be killed by this trip. The disciples are the very next train car on that track, and they know it. "Rabbi," they protest, "a short while ago, the Jews tried to stone You, and yet You are going back there?"

This is where I think I really see Thomas called Didymus for the first time. The poor guy has quite the reputation among us today, doesn't he? Doubting Thomas. Don't be like Thomas, y'all. His motto is: "I'll believe it when I see it," to which Jesus responds: "Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed" (John 20:29).

Here, though, are twelve disciples who realize that they are quite literally facing death because they are following Jesus.

Let that sink in for a moment. Because of the Man they follow... they may be killed. Put yourself in their shoes. Because of the Man we follow... we may be killed. It is no secret that the enemy will do anything he can to destroy us, and if he can't destroy our faith, he works to destroy us physically. Thankfully, we also have quite the protectorate: "The angel of the Lord encamps around those who fear Him, and He delivers them" (Psalm 34:7).

Jesus also tells His followers: "Do not be afraid of those who kill the body but cannot kill the soul. Rather, be afraid of the One who can destroy both soul and body in hell" (Matthew 10:28). God alone is the only One we should fear. 

I don't mean fear like... terror. I mean fear like revered awe. Holy respect. God is not a great teddy bear in the sky, although I think this is a perception Christians carry of Him all-too-often. Yes, He loves us, yes, He sent His Son to die for us (John 3:16), yes, He rejoices over us with singing (Zephaniah 3:17). But yes, He is holy, righteous, and just, and He cannot and will not abide sin. Don't make the mistake of thinking because God is love that He will gloss over sin. He calls us out of darkness into His wonderful light (1 Peter 2:9).

Where was I? Oh yes, Thomas. The twelve disciples stare at Jesus. The words are still ringing in the air: "Let us go back to Judea." The disciples have put up their protest, have issued their statement. They've reminded Jesus of the insanity of the idea, of the clear and present danger should they do this thing He asks them to do. Nowhere have the disciples signed a contract that says they have to follow Jesus; maybe some of them are having second thoughts, maybe a few of them are suddenly remembering important tasks they left undone at their homes and feel a sudden need to return to their families for... you know... a while (entirely speculation on my part).

And Thomas, dear faithful Thomas, steps forward. "Guys... let us also go, that we may die with Him."

Sometimes, I chuckle when I read about Thomas. This sounds sooo... doom and gloom, an Eeyore who groans: "I've lost my tail again." 

But in this sentence, Thomas' clear, entrenched, self-denying faith comes to the forefront. He is an early illustration of Galatians 2:20: "I am crucified with Christ; now I no longer live, but Christ lives in me." 

Like the gladiators of Rome, he faces what he believes to be certain death and he turns and gives his salute. He acknowledges his Ruler and issues the words: "Hail, Caesar, we who are about to die salute You."

Definition of salute: "To pay respect to or honor by some formal act." Thomas' formal act is the cry of his heart, which has faced the idea of death and has acknowledged his even though.

Even though he may die because of Who he follows... he will still go. Thomas' even though shines through his salute: "Let us go, that we may die with Him." Hail, Caesar, we who are about to die salute you.

What is your even though? When you enter the arena and face down the enemy, Whom do you salute? The King of kings? Or self-preservation? 

Joshua's words ring through the centuries and echo in Thomas' statement: "Choose for yourselves this day Whom you will serve... as for me and my household, we will serve the Lord."

Oh Lord, give us a faith like the one Thomas exemplifies here! "Let us go, that we may die with Him."