-------------------
Back in my Navy days, I was a commanding officer on several occasions.
It carried quite a bit of authority, but I tried to ensure my decisions were formed by solid information, so I always included key subordinates in the decision-making process. There was a lot of give and take and open argument, but then, once I made my decision, I expected everyone to support it and do what was necessary to implement it. And remarkably they did...largely because of the authority the Navy gives its commanding officers. Of course no decision pleases everyone, so there was probably occasional grumbling, but never in my presence.
I also knew that "the buck stopped here," that command in the Navy meant that the responsibility always rested on the commanding officer's shoulders. Believe me, this is a humbling realization.
Our Gospel reading from Matthew shows that things haven't changed much in 2,000 years. Indeed, I've always felt a strong connection with that Roman centurion Jesus encountered in today's Gospel passage.
 |
| The Humility of the Centurion |
And yet in these few verses we encounter a man of tender concern, clear thinking, and moving faith.
He was a remarkable man, one who had been blessed; blessed because God had given him the wisdom to understand the limitations of his work in the world and its connection to his faith.
He understood the nature and difference between human authority and divine authority. Although he had physical control over those he led, he knew that he too was subject to a higher authority. And because he had accepted God's gift of faith he had come to recognize that higher authority present in the person of Jesus.
This is a remarkable display of true humility of the kind we all should possess. True humility, the "poor in sprit" kind of humility, is nothing less than a deep, soul-ingrained awareness that God is great and we are all His creatures. It puts all of life into perspective, forcing us to focus on what is truly important.
Those who, like the centurion, understand the truth of their existence don't revel in their humility; for to them it's no personal virtue; it's simply reality. My father used to say: "Humility's a strange commodity because once you know you have it, you've just lost it." Our centurion's humility was just an acceptance of truth.
Confronted by the real presence of Jesus, his Lord, the centurion asks for healing, not for himself but for one for whom he is responsible. He knows his limitations. He cannot heal another of his paralysis and his suffering. That is something only God can do. Filled with faith, he appeals to the divine authority standing before him. Jesus accepts his appeal and agrees to accompany him.
"Lord, I am not worthy that you should enter under my roof; but only say the word and my servant will be healed" [Mt 8:8].What remarkable words - words of both deep faith and simple kindness.
Deep faith because he knows that God's power, God's authority over His creation, is limitless and certainly doesn't demand Jesus' physical, human presence. The word of the Word of God, the word that created the entire universe, is sufficient: "...only say the word..."
And simple kindness so Jesus, a Jew, wouldn't have to deal with the consequences of entering the home, of being "under the roof" of a Gentile.
The centurion brings these words of our liturgy to life and you and I should pray them with the same sense of humility and faith. Yes, indeed, we too are "not worthy" of the Eucharistic Presence of Jesus, a miraculous Presence, a Presence He shares with us despite our unworthiness. And yet in that Presence He opens His heart to us, asking us as we come forward to receive Him to lay our needs at His feet.
How blessed we will be when Jesus responds to us as He responded to the centurion:
"You may go; as you have believed, let it be done for you" [Mt 8:13].
No comments:
Post a Comment