In a specially written reflection for Palm Sunday, master storyteller Dave Kitchen puts himself in the leather sandals of a Roman soldier called Albus.
13 April 2025
The best view
If you’ve ever tried to take a scenic photograph, you’ll know the difference it makes if you change the angle. Get it right and the picture comes to life.
Six years ago, it was coming up to Palm Sunday and I was scratching my head over what to do when I led morning worship. Sometimes you just get stuck! Flipping through a book of scenes from the Holy Land, I stopped at one showing the walls of Jerusalem taken from a valley road leading up to the city on the hill.
Suddenly the penny dropped. I realised who had the best view of the apparently impromptu-but-clearly-planned procession that gathered around Jesus. It wasn’t anybody in the crowd; it was a Roman soldier in the watchtower looking down along the Kidron valley road.
As I began to write down what he had been watching, I had no idea that I was starting several years work as I brought together over a dozen of the witnesses in the Easter story to life. Some were the obvious eyes and ears to the events, such as Thomas, Simon Peter and Mary Magdalene, but it was just as fascinating to think about what Caiaphas was up to or what Claudia Procula knew.
And it all started with that Roman soldier whom I called Albus. Here he is, up in his watchtower, trying to make sense of what is happening.
I realised who had the best view of the apparently impromptu-but-clearly-planned procession that gathered around Jesus. It wasn’t anybody in the crowd.
A solder called Albus
I was stationed in the Guard House Tower that afternoon. So, almost certainly I was the first to get a glimpse of what was happening.
‘Some sort of party cum religious ceremony coming our way,’ I yelled down to my commanding officer.
‘Dangerous or merely what you’d expect round here?’ Quintillus shouted back up to me.
‘Weird would be a better word.’
I heard the thump, thump, thump of his footsteps as he came up to join me. It was now a bit closer and I could make out a man on horseback at the centre of it all. Suddenly it didn’t look too good. I smelt riot, revolution or both. Quintillus hauled himself up the final couple of steps. He squinted into the middle distance and said: ‘What do you think it is?’
‘Looks to me like a hero returning to make a nuisance of himself during the holiday season. What do they call this one?’
‘Passover.’
‘Well, it would be better if they all passed over to somewhere else and left us in peace. If that comedian is on horseback, we need the legion out now.’
Quintillus sighed. He hated fuss. Just keep the peace, he used to say. That’s what we’re here for.
‘Look more carefully, Albus.’
‘Ah, he’s side-saddle on a young donkey.’
‘Exactly. Most military leaders don’t ride in on animals used for carrying sacks of grain, do they? And can you see any sign of weapons hidden under the folds of what they’re wearing?’
‘Not as far as I can see.’
‘Well, keep looking because there’s a chance that it will turn nasty but I don’t see any sign of it at this moment. What do you think it looks like right now?’
‘More like an open air dance party centred around someone’s dad. Seems a bit peculiar to me.’
Ignatius said to try to bring the gospel story to life by putting yourself in the situation you were reading about.
Passion, fire and dance
Quintillus sighed: ‘Have you picked up nothing about this religion since you were posted here Albus? Their scriptures are full of song and dance. Even their old kings used to do it sometimes.’
‘Doesn’t sound anywhere serious enough to count as religion in my book.’
‘Ah, that’s where you’re wrong. This is a religion filled with passion, fire and even dance. That’s why our job here is a bit more tricky because they feel for their faith more powerfully than in some of our territories. It can get out of hand pretty quickly.’
‘So we stamp on it, sir.’
Quintillus shook his head: ‘Our job is to keep the peace and collect the taxes. That’s what Rome wants and that’s what Rome gets. If you see weapons or horsemen, just tell me and I’ll have a hundred men here on the double to remove the ringleader’s head from his body. In the meantime, they can sing Hosanna as many times as they wish and dance until dusk. What harm can it do? Have you never called on your gods to save you?’
‘I would if I thought it would do any good.’
‘Well, keep watching, Albus. You might even learn something.’
And, with that, he turned and plodded back down the stairs leaving me to watch and wonder about what sort of saving they were expecting form this strange god of theirs.
In writing for today I feel as if I’ve also breathed life into what happened yesterday.
Photo: Kidron Valley, Jerusalem, in the 1920s.
An ancient practice
So that’s where I started: with a young soldier trying to get to grips with the land he had been shipped out to. After that, I turned to Thomas, who must surely have had doubts about this dangerous return to the city, then to Martha in Bethany, awaiting the disciples’ return, and to Bartimaeus, the new follower from Jericho for whom every day was bringing sights he’d never thought he’d see.
Until I’d finished, it didn’t occur to me that what I was doing echoed what Ignatius had said 500 years earlier. He had instructed his friends and followers to make it part of their Bible study to try to bring the gospel story to mind and to life by putting themselves in the situation they were reading about. Suddenly I felt that I’d stumbled into an ancient and important way of getting to know and understand the Bible that no longer held the importance it deserved or once had. So in writing for today I feel as if I’ve also breathed life into what happened yesterday.
It’s a good feeling to know that everything comes round again as the wheel of time turns and what gets forgotten can be discovered anew.
