One of the most controversial passages in the translation of the Mass is Domine, non sum dignus ut intres sub tectum meum, sed tantum dic verbo, et sanabitur anima mea, whose current, inadequate, English translation is, “Lord, I am not worthy to receive You, but only say the word, and I shall be healed.”
When I was a kid, I heard a homily by a priest which I always remembered, but never understood till I attended my first traditional Latin Mass. He said that, the first time he served at the altar, he was to ring the bells hard when the priest said the “Domine . . .” He wasn’t exactly sure which time the priest meant, so, every time he heard the priest utter, “Domine,” he rang the bells like crazy.
Well, the significance behind that joke, and the awesomeness of those words, struck me my first time Tridentine Mass, which was on my birthday, May 11, 2003. I already knew the Latin version by heart from hearing the Paul VI Mass in Latin, both on EWTN and in person, so I knew what the priest was saying. In both translations of the Novus Ordo, the priest and people say the words together, once.
In the extraordinary form of the Roman Rite, the phrase is repeated three times in a row. The priest says it *first*, by himself, before his private Communion. Then, the people say it again, three times, just before Communion. Each time, the word “DOMINE” is proclaimed with force and fervor, while the altar server rings the aforementioned bells.
This Sunday has been the 9th Sunday of Ordinary Time, or the Sunday in the Octave of the Sacred Heart of Jesus (Third Sunday After Pentecost). For Year C, the Gospel this week would be Luke 7:1-10, the story of the Centurion, from which that beautiful petition comes: “Lord, do not trouble yourself, for I am not worthy to have you enter under my roof.”
This year is Year A, meaning that we’re dealing with Matthew, one of my four favorite Gospels. 🙂 And this week’s reading is one of my favorites, especially where Evangelicals are concerned. It’s the Gospel that directly negates the idea that all one has to do is call on the Name of Jesus to be “saved,” Matt 7:21-27: “”Not everyone who says to me, ‘Lord, Lord,’ will enter the kingdom of heaven, 10 but only the one who does the will of my Father in heaven. “
Interestingly, this particular passage does not specify what that “will” is, but it says that preaching, prophesying, doing mighty works and driving out demons are not enough, especially if one does evil. (This is especially apropos to the article I blogged about just below, regarding Medjugorje).
Jesus goes on to tell one of the parables given as an option in the Wedding Mass: the wise man who built his house on Rock (see yesterday’s post on Psalm 127).
In Year B, the Gospel would be Mark 2:23-3:6, two encounters between Jesus and the Pharisees about the Sabbath. The one is when the Apostles pick grain, and Jesus makes reference to David eating the Holy Bread. The Holy Bread, a foretype of the Eucharist, was to be eaten only by the sons of Aaron. But given the special circumstances, the priests allowed David and his men to partake of it, so long as they had been specially consecrated and had been abstaining from sexual relations. In both the incidents in Mark, Jesus explains that the “Sabbath is made for man, not man for the Sabbath”; that religious laws can and should be set aside to care for those in need. This is, of course, a far cry from today’s almost complete rejection of the Sabbath.
In the Tridentine Liturgy, today’s Gospel is Luke 15:1-10, the parable of the lost sheep.
22 The light of thy body is thy eye. If thy eye be single, thy whole body shall be lightsome. 23 But if thy eye be evil thy whole body shall be darksome. If then the light that is in thee, be darkness: the darkness itself how great shall it be! 24 No man can serve two masters. For either he will hate the one, and love the other: or he will sustain the one, and despise the other. You cannot serve God and mammon. 25 Therefore I say to you, be not solicitous for your life, what you shall eat, nor for your body, what you shall put on. Is not the life more than the meat: and the body more than the raiment?
26 Behold the birds of the air, for they neither sow, nor do they reap, nor gather into barns: and your heavenly Father feedeth them. Are not you of much more value than they? 27 And which of you by taking thought, can add to his stature by one cubit? 28 And for raiment why are you solicitous? Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow: they labour not, neither do they spin. 29 But I say to you, that not even Solomon in all his glory was arrayed as one of these. 30 And if the grass of the field, which is today, and tomorrow is cast into the oven, God doth so clothe: how much more you, O ye of little faith?
31 Be not solicitous therefore, saying, What shall we eat: or what shall we drink, or wherewith shall we be clothed? 32 For after all these things do the heathens seek. For your Father knoweth that you have need of all these things. 33 Seek ye therefore first the kingdom of God, and his justice, and all these things shall be added unto you.
There seems to be a connection between these five Gospels, although it ultimately just seems to be the Gospel itself.
The passage from Luke 7 concerns the pure faith of the Centurion. It tells us that, while the physical presence of Jesus, and the physicality of the Sacraments are important, Jesus ultimately answers prayers not because of any formula or “magic touch” but because of the sincerety and humility behind them. Jesus wants humility (“I am not worthy”), faith (“I too am a person subject to authority, with soldiers subject to me”) and trust (“say the word and my servant shall be healed”).
The Centurion’s prayer has become so important in the Church because his words express the perfect combination of humility and faith. He not only recognizes the authority of Jesus; he takes it for granted. A Roman Centurion is standing before a carpenter-turned-itinerant preacher and comparing *himself* to the preacher. “I, too,” implies that he sees Jesus as a man of great authority. He sees that Jesus is subject to the Father and Jesus has others at His command.
In the Gospel from Matthew 7, we see a slight contrast, in that the “Lord, Lord” is ultimately insufficient. It must be backed up by works.
In Mark 2, we see that the Pharisees, unlike the Centurion, *fail* to recognize Jesus’ divine authority. They also allow their blind adherence to religious regulations to hinder their service of the sick and the hungry, the very works to which Jesus refers in Matthew 7.
Certainly, the Centurion is one of the very Lost Sheep referred to in Luke 15.
But the powerful “Lilies of the Field” passage seems to tie it all together. Both passages from Matthew touch on my reflections about Psalm 127: God must be the foundation of every “house”, whether it’s the “house” of the Church, the “house” of the family or the “house” of the individual soul. God must be all in all. The faith of the Centurion is enough to get you started; it’s enough to get Jesus into you and you into Jesus’ house. But that faith must go somewhere.
It goes somewhere in reaching out to those in need, both physically and spiritually. Both Luke 15 and Matthew 6 call us to abandon all for the Kingdom. The Lost Sheep works both ways: it refers to God reaching out to sinners, and it refers to us abandoning all other goods for God.
And this is the essence of Providentialism. The problem I have with the critique of Providentialism by many Catholics today is that it goes against the message Jesus preaches in passages like Matthew 6. Jesus wants us to be willing to abandon everything–food, shelter, clothing, financial security, and even our very lives–to do His will