I have only recently learned that it was St Francis of Assisi who first decorated the stable of the Nativity scene at Christmas. It is said that Francis reenacted the birth of Jesus Christ in a poor stable in the village of Greccio, Italy, on Christmas Eve 1223. 

For Francis, Christ as the infant Son of God, born in this way, along with Christ crucified, dead and risen, and Christ with us in the Eucharist, became an important theme which makes us realise the true meaning of poverty, the poverty of God becoming man. It is God showing people life itself. Francis found the Creator's love in every part of nature, because everywhere, there is life that God desired, revealing God's love. All life gives glory to God by simply being alive. 

We know this because the Son of God was born as a man on earth and spoke his word. When Francis encountered the San Damiano Crucifix, he could not resist the realisation he then received. He could not pass by and pretend not to see the truth he had come to know. The truth he received began in a poor stable. Francis realised the significance of the time and place that the three had finally become the Holy Family with the birth of Jesus. 

In the world depicted on the San Damiano Crucifix, the past, the present, and the future are visible. There is something hidden in it, suggesting that time is not only something that flows, but also represents a relationship. I believe that Francis received it and simply tried to live what he had realised and to pass on that realisation to the people amidst the worldview of the Roman Catholic Church at that time, when papal authority was at its peak, and its political influence was growing. 

Francis lived at a time when mendicant orders were on the rise in response to changes within the Church and in society. However, Francis, who had been enlightened by the San Damiano Crucifix, could not easily ride that wave. That is most likely because he could see a relationship in time. Everything began in a poor stable. 

The time and place the three became the Holy Family with the birth of Jesus lead us to the scene of the people standing by the cross in John's Gospel (cf. John 19:25-27) through allusions and suggestions found in the Gospels and are reflected in the San Damiano Crucifix. There, the mother of Jesus and the beloved disciple are depicted on one side, with Mary Magdalene and the wife of Clopas on the other side, with Jesus on the cross between them. There is no mention in the Gospels of "with Jesus on the cross between them", but the San Damiano Crucifix has an advantage as a visual depiction. It is an important representation that enables us to recall the image of Jesus and the Apostles sitting around the last table. 

The Gospel of John tells us that Jesus, on the cross, bound his mother and the disciple he loved with a parent-child bond (cf. 19:26-27). On the previous evening, Jesus instituted the Eucharist in the presence of the Apostles and, together with his work, gave them the priesthood of the New Covenant by saying, "Do this in remembrance of me." We can consider the mother of Jesus to be a public sign of this event. The Church communicated amidst persecution that this sacrament had indeed been conferred by Jesus on the Apostles in such a way that only believers could understand it. The Gospels became a guarantee of this. 

The priests of the New Covenant, although male, will be overshadowed by the power of the Holy Spirit, like the mother of Jesus, so that the Eucharist may be born. They become those who ask the Father for the birth of the Eucharist in Jesus' name. They are given it and filled with joy (cf. John 16:20-24). The mission of the priesthood is a mission that concerns the life of the Eucharist in the same way that a woman carrying an unborn child concerns the life of a person. God, who called Himself "I am", willed to be born, through the Holy Spirit, of a man who was conferred with the priesthood of the New Covenant so that He could serve human life as Eucharist, for the sake of human life, which He desired to be and which comes forth from a woman. God is in the extremity of poverty. 

The Apostle, who took the mother of Jesus to his own home and testified to his consent to the parent-child bond, became the legitimate heir inheriting the authority of the mother of Jesus, who had accepted the mystery of the Incarnation. The authority of the mother of Jesus lies in the fact that the angel's words "The Holy Spirit will come upon you, and the power of the Most High will overshadow you; therefore the child to be born will be called holy, the Son of God" (Luke 1:35) were fulfilled. The angel's words are indeed fulfilled also in the priest before the altar. Therefore, the "child to be born," i.e., the Eucharist, is "called holy, the Son of God." 

Jesus himself was in his final scene on the cross. Mary Magdalene and Mary, the wife of Clopas, witnessed the whole process. The name of the Apostle, who was called a disciple whom Jesus loved, was hidden. On the other hand, the Gospel of John does not tell the name of Jesus’ mother, but it is undoubtedly Mary. So, the Apostle, who entered into a parent-child bond with Jesus' mother, became "the son of Mary." Thus, the "my church" (Matthew 16:18), of which Jesus mentioned, was to be born as the three Marys. 

St Francis of Assisi drew inspiration from the San Damiano Crucifix, which had captured his vision. He carried it through to his subsequent actions. How did he perceive the vocation of the Church born beside the cross of Jesus? Hopefully, we will track his actions little by little in the future. 

(This article is the one I contributed to a Japanese Internet magazine, Catholic AI.)

Maria K.M.

 

A friend of mine recently suggested that if we, referring to the words of Jesus, could explain how Christianity became a world religion, starting from Rome, and if we could slowly interpret the grand themes such as Jesus on the cross in the Gospel of John, his relationship with Pilate and the Centurion, and the Roman reign, we might be able to understand what we want to understand, i.e., where God's will is and to where we are being led. I have been thinking about this for some time. 

The New Testament has a history that people today may not immediately understand, including the involvement of Pilate and the centurions, as well as the Roman rule. We have the opportunity to study the process of Christianity's rise from Rome to a world religion in Western history, but the view we see from there is far from the sensibilities of Japanese people living in the farthest east. Considering all this, I thought it would not be easy to explain that process. At the same time, I think that Japanese people may have some geographical advantage. Perhaps it is a certain feeling that comes from being outside of Christian history.

 It is the Holy Spirit who enlightens us, interpreting Jesus’ words. The Holy Spirit is with all people, each and every one of us, so it may be helpful for us to be more aware of our own geographical location and to be conscious of it in working with the Holy Spirit. Just as I was thinking this way, I came across the following reflection. At first, it seemed like a trivial matter, and I was about to pass by. But when I stopped and looked at it again, I realised that it is a matter that supports the daily lives of the Japanese people, and that it is a surprisingly good hint. 

In Japan, the Japanese calendar (based on Gengo or imperial era names) and the Western calendar coexist. I have often found this dual calendar system inconvenient, but I have never paid attention to this situation. However, I was intrigued by the idea that Japanese people routinely accept a dualised sense of time. It was a strange feeling when I drew attention again to the fact that we live between two time scales: Japanese time (imperial eras) and world time (Western calendar). 

Japanese people were not under this condition until after the Meiji Restoration. It is said that January 1, Meiji 6 (1873 AD) is the date of the introduction of the Gregorian calendar to Japan. One hundred and forty-five years later, the Nikkei Newspaper of 20 August 2018 reported that "The government has decided not to require the Western calendar to be written on official documents upon the switchover to the new imperial era on 1 May 2019. It will not indicate a policy of writing both Japanese and Western calendars or unifying them with the Western calendar, and it will leave this to the individual decisions of ministries, agencies, and local authorities." When I heard this, I thought it was quite remarkable. It is said that very few citizens are still living in such a condition in the 21st century. I thought that the character of the Japanese people might be manifested in such a way. 

Gengo is a delimiter of an era. With names such as “Reiwa” and “Heisei”, it renews the value of each era and marks a fresh start. The Western calendar, on the other hand, is a solar calendar introduced in 46 BC as the Julian calendar, which Pope Gregory XIII revised in 1582 to correct deviations from the seasons and make it more accurate. It gives us a strong sense of linear time, like BC → AD → 2025. Thus, Japanese people, who have accepted the dual calendar, Gengo and the Western calendar, in their daily lives, may have had from the beginning a sense of what could be called an intermediate worldview. They have a sense that time is not only something that flows, but also something that ‘expresses a relationship’, and they accept and use the dual calendar. 

When we look at the history of Catholic teaching, which was nurtured in an environment where only the Western calendar is the norm, it looks like a linear, torrent-like run through the historical time in which Christianity, with its capital in Rome, became a world religion, with grand themes ranging from the Old Testament to the New Testament. In addition, there is a highly dense growth process in it. So, if the Japanese try to carry that history on their backs as it is, they would already be exhausted. I think that is why we have the feeling that if it is preached slowly, we might be able to understand what we want to understand, where God's will is, where He is leading us. That is what I feel. 

The Holy Spirit works on the individual, as Jesus said, "When the Spirit of truth comes, he will guide you into all the truth; for he will not speak on his own authority, but whatever he hears he will speak, and he will declare to you the things that are to come" (John 16:13). Jesus repeats the part "declare to you" twice more in a further passage (cf. 16:14-15), for a total of three times. That must be because it is so important. 

The Holy Spirit "will guide you into all the truth." It happens as each of us is personally involved with the Holy Spirit. Engagement with the Holy Spirit is initially individual anyway, even if it can become shared and communal. Unlike the times of the Old Testament when God spoke to His people through prophets, God wants each believer who seeks and desires to know His plan, as seen in the Acts of the Apostles and Paul's letters, to receive it by turning to and engaging with the Holy Spirit. God wants to preach slowly to each person and let them know where His will is and where He is leading them. 

Eight hundred years after the believers had received the New Testament, which was not available at the time of Paul's ministry, St Francis of Assisi encountered the "San Damiano Crucifix." It depicts the people who stood by the cross in John's Gospel, and below them is the Roman soldier who speared Jesus in the side, and another who offered him a sponge containing sour wine. Furthermore, next to Jesus' left calf is a small rooster, as if to remind us of Peter. They, too, like the centurion, are all looking earnestly at Jesus on the cross. Hidden in this cross seems to be a prophecy that time is not only something that flows but also "something that represents a relationship." I think we can discover that now, 800 years after St Francis. 

(This article is the one I contributed to a Japanese Internet magazine, Catholic AI.)

Maria K. M.

 

I could hardly get ahead since we began talking about the centurion, depicted on the San Damiano Crucifix, but I would like to take this opportunity to share a few more insights. 

The centurion's words in the Gospels of Matthew and Luke, in which he asks Jesus to heal his servant (slave), are also the words used in the Mass liturgies around the world at key moments when the priest and the congregation together respond to the invitation to Communion in front of the Eucharist, raised by the priest. Reviewing the centurion episode from this perspective, the theme of the last article, “What faith does the centurion, looking up Jesus on the San Damiano Crucifix with sincerity confess this time?” is linked to a very important issue. 

In both Gospels, the centurion appears in two scenes. One in which he asks Jesus to heal his servant (slave), and the other in which he stands by Jesus' cross and confesses his faith in Jesus. The latter scene is also described by the Gospel of Mark. Whether or not the centurion in these scenes is the same person, we can see two stages of faith in the centurion's words. 

In the scene, where the centurion asks Jesus to heal his servant (slave), the centurion could come to Jesus drawn by the drawing power of the Father, as Jesus said: “No one can come to me unless the Father who sent me draws him” (John 6:44). And his faith allowed him to have Jesus heal his sick servant (slave). This is the first stage. 

On the other hand, in the scene of Jesus' crucifixion, the Gospel of Mark says: “And when the centurion, who stood facing him, saw that he thus breathed his last, he said, ‘Truly this man was the Son of God!’" (Mark 15:39). The centurion's words here can be thought to be a testimony of Jesus' words, “I, when I am lifted up from the earth, will draw all men to myself” (John 12:32). The second stage. 

We, the future believers who will never actually experience these two stages of faith, have Eucharist, which Jesus instituted at the Last Supper through his words and deeds. The "one who sees the Son and believes in him" in Jesus' words, "For this is the will of my Father, that every one who sees the Son and believes in him should have eternal life; and I will raise him up at the last day" (John 6:40), is those who believe that the Eucharist is Jesus Christ himself, who said, "I am the bread of life; he who comes to me shall not hunger, and he who believes in me shall never thirst" (6:35). 

In the Catechism of the Catholic Church (second edition, 1997), № 1386, it is written: "Before so great a sacrament, the faithful can only echo humbly and with ardent faith the words of the Centurion: 'Domine, non sum dignus ut intres sub tectum meum, sed tantum dic verbo, et sanabitur anima a mea' ('Lord, I am not worthy that you should enter under my roof, but only say the word and my soul will be healed.'" 

But the centurion's words here are the words he uttered when he came to Jesus, drawn by the Father, i.e., the words in the first stage. It is a different stage from that of us Christians who have come to Jesus, drawn by the words of Jesus, who said, “I, when I am lifted up from the earth ...” We believers after Pentecost were drawn to Jesus, who was lifted up from the earth, i.e., Jesus on the Cross.

 The Catechism of the Catholic Church then presents the words of prayer in the Divine Liturgy of St. John Chrysostom. They include the cry of the thief who was crucified with Jesus: "Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom." This cry is, so to speak, the cry of the first man who was drawn to Jesus on the Cross. Although the Divine Liturgy of St John Chrysostom certainly contains a response towards Jesus on the Cross, this scene never leads to the scene of the centurion in the account in the Acts of the Apostles after the descent of the Holy Spirit. 

The Acts of the Apostles describes the centurion as “a devout man who feared God with all his household, gave alms liberally to the people, and prayed constantly to God” (Acts 10:2). And the centurion's relationship with the Apostle Peter (cf. 10:1-48) was the catalyst for the Church's move towards Gentile missionary work. The trajectory of faith conveyed by the episode of the centurion symbolizes the development of the Church that we, as believers, aspire to. 

The Catechism of the Catholic Church, № 1382, states: "The Mass is at the same time, and inseparably, the sacrificial memorial in which the sacrifice of the cross is perpetuated and the sacred banquet of communion with the Lord’s body and blood. But the celebration of the Eucharistic sacrifice is wholly directed toward the intimate union of the faithful with Christ through communion. To receive communion is to receive Christ himself who has offered himself for us." As such, I think, we, believers, should apply the words of the centurion's second stage to Jesus on the Cross, "Truly, this man was the Son of God," to the response we make "before so great a sacrament," i.e., the Eucharist. 

The words of the priest's invitation to communion, according to the Roman Missal, are: "Behold the Lamb of God, behold him who takes away the sins of the world. Blessed are those called to the supper of the Lamb." The Lamb of God who takes away the sins of the world is what John the Baptist said when he saw Jesus coming towards him. Hence, "the supper of the Lamb" is the last supper of Jesus. The blessedness of those who are invited there is clearly depicted in the San Damiano Crucifix. Knowing this is the answer to what kind of faith the centurion will confess this time. 

(This article is the one I contributed to a Japanese Internet magazine, Catholic AI, in October 2025) 

Maria K. M.

 

I would like to reflect a little more on the centurion depicted in the San Damiano Crucifix. As I wrote last time, the Gospel of John devotes considerable space to the exchange between Jesus and Pilate. We can see Jesus solemnly fulfilling the Father's will in his last moments as he engages with Pilate, the Roman governor. If we assume that Jesus’ way of coping with this scene was a result of his aim to make Rome the capital of Christians, everything seemed to become clearer. 

Jesus said to the Samaritan woman he met at Jacob's well, "Woman, believe me, the hour is coming when neither on this mountain nor in Jerusalem will you worship the Father" (John 4:21). The place that was “neither on this mountain nor in Jerusalem” was consequently Rome. It is clear that Jesus, knowing Jerusalem would fall, had planned a new city in Rome from the beginning for the sake of the Church, which Jesus would bring forth, and the Holy Spirit would establish on the New Covenant. 

The episode of the centurion is found in the Gospel of Matthew and Luke. As the centurion in Matthew that we discussed last time, the centurion in Luke, who wished for the healing of his servant, also faced a situation where he did not want Jesus to come to his house. That was because not only Jesus and the elders had come with him, but also the "multitude" (cf. Luke 7:9). So, when they had come to "not far from the house" (7:6), the centurion sent his friends to refuse Jesus' coming, saying as follows. 

"Lord, do not trouble yourself, for I am not worthy to have you come under my roof; therefore I did not presume to come to you. But say the word, and let my servant be healed. For I am a man set under authority, with soldiers under me: and I say to one, 'Go,' and he goes; and to another, 'Come,' and he comes; and to my slave, 'Do this,' and he does it" (Luke 7:6-8). 

This message sounds as if it came from Rome. When Jesus heard this, he was amazed and said, "I tell you, not even in Israel have I found such faith" (Luke 7:9), for the centurion, a Roman soldier, spoke as if he were a prophet. The centurion's words could be directly applied to the future of the Roman Empire. Jesus never stepped on Roman soil, as the centurion says, "Lord, do not trouble yourself, for I am not worthy to have you come under my roof." It would never have happened that the Roman Empire would receive Jesus, who was to die on the cross. However, the words, “But say the word, and let my servant be healed,” were fulfilled. The Word had reached Rome and was already encouraging its people before Paul (cf. Romans 1:6-7). 

In addition, the words uttered based on the centurion's military service experience may seem ordinary at first glance. However, behind those words was the rational system of law and military affairs that the Roman Empire had at the time. Therein lies the reason why God sought Rome as the capital for the Church to live out the New Covenant Jesus had achieved on the cross. The culture, traditions, and temperament of the Romans had the capacity to receive the rapid progress of mankind that would come with the coming of the Son of God to earth. The Christian community found a hope in Rome to grow in collaboration with the Holy Spirit, guided by him. Now, after history, we know that a new prophecy is in the New Testament. 

Jesus' words of surprise reached the centurion's servant, and the servant was in good spirits. The centurion's faith in Jesus was intuitive and pure. It was like Naaman, the military commander of the king of Aram, whom Jesus quoted as saying, "And there were many lepers in Israel in the time of the prophet Eli'sha; and none of them was cleansed, but only Na'aman the Syrian" (Luke 4:27). Just as he believed in the prophet Elisha after hearing about him from his wife's servant, an Israelite girl, so the centurion believed in Jesus after hearing about him from the elders. 

Jesus said, "No one can come to me unless the Father who sent me draws him; and I will raise him up at the last day. It is written in the prophets, 'And they shall all be taught by God.' Every one who has heard and learned from the Father comes to me" (John 6:44-45). These words testify to the fulfilment of Old Covenant prophecy. The people with whom Jesus was involved at that time were those who could come to him through the Father's drawing power. The centurion was one of them, and his faith was an extension of the faith of the people of the Old Covenant. 

However, the centurion could not remain in that faith. As Jesus later testified, "I, when I am lifted up from the earth, will draw all men to myself" (John 12:32), he came to say to Jesus on the cross, drawn by Jesus together with those who were with him, keeping watch over Jesus: "Truly this was the Son of God!" (Matthew 27:54). In Luke's Gospel, it is written that "he praised God, and said, 'Certainly this man was innocent!'" (Luke 23:47). 

The centurion who came to Jesus, drawn by the Father, said, "I am not worthy to have you come under my roof ... But say the word, and ..." It was a faith supported by the prophecies of the Old Covenant people. Eventually, he was drawn to Jesus on the cross and said, "Truly this was the Son of God!" which was directed precisely to the New Covenant, which Jesus had just fulfilled. So, what faith does the centurion depicted on the San Damiano Crucifix confess this time after the descent of the Holy Spirit? Jesus on the cross calmly gazes ahead. 

(This article is the one I contributed to a Japanese Internet magazine, Catholic AI.)

Maria K. M.

 

 

The people depicted on either side of Jesus at the "San Damiano Crucifix," which led St Francis of Assisi to his conversion, are those who stood by the cross in the Gospel of John 19 (cf. John 19:25-27). However, among them, the centurion is an exception. No "centurion" appears in John's Gospel even once. 

Michael Goonan, author of the previously mentioned book The Crucifix that Spoke to St Francis, says: "Significantly, the three fingers of the centurion are, in traditional icon painting, a sign that says, 'I am speaking.' In a Christian context, this means 'I testify that Jesus is Lord.'" This explanation is very interesting.

 Above the head of the central image of Jesus Christ in the San Damiano Crucifix, it reads "Jesus of Nazareth, King of the Jews." This is a title found only in the Gospel of John (cf. John 19:19), where the chief priests asked Pilate, "Do not write, 'The King of the Jews,' but, 'This man said, I am King of the Jews.'" (19:21), which he did not take up, saying, "What I have written I have written" (19:22). 

We still recite the name of Pilate, the Roman governor of the province of Judea, every time in the Creed, which is something extraordinary. The Roman Empire was stamped with the name of Jesus when he suffered under Pilate and underwent the crucifixion, the penalty of the Roman Empire. Having foretold the fall of Jerusalem, Jesus was already looking to Rome for Christians. 

Jesus responded to Pilate's interrogation: "My kingship is not of this world" (John 18:36) and "For this I was born, and for this I have come into the world, to bear witness to the truth. Every one who is of the truth hears my voice" (18:37). When Pilate was confronted with these words, which spoke clearly of God's reality, he asked back, "What is truth?"(18:38), but at this moment he had already become the one who "hears my voice." 

The Gospel says that when Pilate said, "I find no crime in him" (19:6), the Jews replied, "We have a law, and by that law he ought to die, because he has made himself the Son of God" (19:7), and that "When Pilate heard these words, he was the more afraid; he entered the praetorium again and said to Jesus, 'Where are you from?'" (19:8-9). The words "Son of God" caught his ear. 

On his last day, Jesus left the pathway to Rome by getting involved with the Roman governor Pilate. The pathway led him to the cross, on which he was appealed to by the chief priests and stood before the governor and the king. Paul followed this same path to Rome as Jesus (cf. Acts 22:30-28:16). 

After Jesus breathed his last on the cross, "Pilate wondered if he were already dead; and summoning the centurion, he asked him whether he was already dead. And when he learned from the centurion that he was dead, he granted the body to Joseph" (Mark 15:44-45). This centurion was the one who stood towards Jesus as he breathed his last on the cross and said, "Truly this man was the Son of God!" (15:39). These words suggest that he had pondered this earlier. 

According to the Gospel of Matthew, when Jesus entered Capernaum, a centurion approached Jesus and pleaded for the healing of his servant, who was sick. Hearing this, Jesus said, "I will come and heal him" (Matthew 8:7). He may have already begun to walk as he said so. People would have been surrounding them. The centurion must have approached Jesus blindly, staking his last chance of healing his servant on Jesus’ reputation, but he, a Roman soldier, must have wanted to avoid having Jesus come to his house with onlookers in tow. 

He therefore refused Jesus' visit, saying, "Lord, I am not worthy to have you come under my roof; but only say the word, and my servant will be healed" (8:8). He then explained his reasons, citing his relationship with his own men, "For I am a man under authority, with soldiers under me ..." (8:9). But Jesus sees in his words, by which he refuses his coming, his intuitive and genuine belief that Jesus is the Christ. The centurion's words were an echo of Jesus' desire for Rome. The will of the Father was in them. The words of Jesus must go to Rome. 

Jesus was amazed at these words because they were of one Gentile, and said to those who followed him, "Truly, I say to you, not even in Israel have I found such faith" (8:10). Yes indeed. That is because it was a new way of being in faith, in which what is seen comes from what is unseen, that is, believing in Jesus as the Christ. That is as the risen Jesus said in John's Gospel, "Have you believed because you have seen me? Blessed are those who have not seen and yet believe" (John 20:29). Jesus said, "Go; be it done for you as you have believed" (Matthew 8:13), and let him go home. At that moment, his servant was healed. 

The Word had come to Rome before Paul, as Paul wrote to the Romans (cf. Romans 1:6-7). The centurion's words, "Lord, I am not worthy to have you come under my roof; but only say the word, and my servant will be healed," were a manifestation of God's plan that the Word would reach Rome. And it did come true. The centurion depicted in the "San Damiano Crucifix" was portrayed as a symbol of the Roman Empire that had come to believe in Jesus Christ. Without that fact, there would have been no people depicted here in a harmonious atmosphere, and no encounter between this crucifix and St Francis. 

The centurion's intuitive and pure faith, which sought Jesus and saw him, eventually led him to the point where he stood facing Jesus as he breathed his last on the cross and said, "Truly this man was the Son of God!" It is precisely these words that are in line with Michael Goonan's "In a Christian context, this means 'I testify that Jesus is Lord.'" The "San Damiano Crucifix" presents us with that. 

(This article is the one I contributed to Japanese Internet magazine, Catholic AI.)

Maria K.M.