Lord, I am not worthy

Today’s gospel (Matthew 8: 5-11) reminds us of the origins of words we all say only a few moments before we encounter Jesus in Holy Communion. The dispositions of the centurion would not yet be enough to receive Jesus in the Blessed Sacrament. We hope that after this meeting the centurion went on from acts of faith to acts of friendship and love, but we do not know.

Meanwhile, Jesus not only cures his servant but praises the centurion for his faith. We should praise the centurion too for his reverence. For the centurion shows reverence in two ways. The first is that he addresses Jesus respectfully: “Sir” is the English translation of what he says, and he uses this term both times that he addresses our Lord. Formality is now unfashionable; it is especially suspect in a religious context where it is associated with rigidity and coldness. But, as St Paul says, every knee should bow at the name of Jesus. Only a few years back, pious Catholics would bow their heads at the name of Jesus, mirroring a rubric that was embedded in the liturgy. But why should every knee bow to Jesus if bowing the knee (or bowing the head) is an act of cold-hearted prissiness? “Sir”, says the centurion simply, and I imagine he bowed his head when he did so, if not his knee. Would that every communicant were as reverent.

The second act of reverence of the centurion is intimately tied up with his faith. “I am not worthy to have you under my roof,” he says. I am not worthy – words that are only spoken either out of a wrongheaded sense of self-abasement (which is clearly not the case here) or out of an abundant sense of his own position in relation to Jesus. Now, it is possible that the centurion is only observing a social convention, knowing how sniffy the leading Jews were about mixing with sinners. But, Jesus does not smile on such delicatesse; He smiles rather on the man’s belief that He could cure the servant even without seeing him. The centurion’s reverence, therefore, does not come from observing the social custom of the Jews who wished to shun Gentile company; it comes from what must have been a deep sense of Jesus’ power that he could easily have witnessed as Jesus made his progress through the Holy Land. There reverence proceeds from his faith. 

I believe. And if I know myself, I must know myself to be much lower than the power I believe in. And yet – here comes the act that Jesus honours in the centurion – despite it all, I humble myself and ask for His help. If we but had faith, we could move mountains, or perhaps see our servants healed. Or better still, we might glimpse the healing touch of Jesus descend on our own hearts.