First Reading: Isaiah 4:2-6
On that day,
The branch of the LORD will be luster and glory,
and the fruit of the earth will be honor and splendor
for the survivors of Israel.
He who remains in Zion
and he who is left in Jerusalem
Will be called holy:
every one marked down for life in Jerusalem.
When the LORD washes away
the filth of the daughters of Zion,
And purges Jerusalem’s blood from her midst
with a blast of searing judgment,
Then will the LORD create,
over the whole site of Mount Zion
and over her place of assembly,
A smoking cloud by day
and a light of flaming fire by night.
For over all, the LORD’s glory will be shelter and protection:
shade from the parching heat of day,
refuge and cover from storm and rain.
Responsorial Psalm: Psalm 122:1-2, 3-4B, 4CD-5, 6-7, 8-9
R. Let us go rejoicing to the house of the Lord.
I rejoiced because they said to me,
“We will go up to the house of the LORD."
And now we have set foot
within your gates, O Jerusalem.
R. Let us go rejoicing to the house of the Lord.
Jerusalem, built as a city
with compact unity.
To it the tribes go up,
the tribes of the LORD.
R. Let us go rejoicing to the house of the Lord.
According to the decree for Israel,
to give thanks to the name of the LORD.
In it are set up judgment seats,
seats for the house of David.
R. Let us go rejoicing to the house of the Lord.
Pray for the peace of Jerusalem!
May those who love you prosper!
May peace be within your walls,
prosperity in your buildings.
R. Let us go rejoicing to the house of the Lord.
Because of my relatives and friends
I will say, “Peace be within you!"
Because of the house of the LORD, our God,
I will pray for your good.
R. Let us go rejoicing to the house of the Lord.
Gospel: Matthew 8:5-11
When Jesus entered Capernaum,
a centurion approached him and appealed to him, saying,
“Lord, my servant is lying at home paralyzed, suffering dreadfully.”
He said to him, “I will come and cure him.”
The centurion said in reply,
“Lord, I am not worthy to have you enter under my roof;
only say the word and my servant will be healed.
For I too am a man subject to authority,
with soldiers subject to me.
And I say to one, ‘Go,’ and he goes;
and to another, ‘Come here,’ and he comes;
and to my slave, ‘Do this,’ and he does it.”
When Jesus heard this, he was amazed and said to those following him,
“Amen, I say to you, in no one in Israel have I found such faith.
I say to you, many will come from the east and the west,
and will recline with Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob
at the banquet in the Kingdom of heaven.”
NAB
I eat an English muffin with peanut butter and jelly almost every morning.
It’s not that I don’t like other foods—I like almost everything. It’s just that I get comfortable with routine.
When the liturgy changed a few years ago and some of the wording of the Mass was altered, I read the card in the pew dutifully and tried to internalize the new language. Eventually, I adjusted. Usually, I don’t even think about how we used to do it any more. Still, when we reach the part of the Eucharistic prayer where we say, “Lord, I am not worthy that you should enter under my roof . . . ,” I always feel awkward. Under my roof? Is He coming over? How is His coming to me in the Eucharist like His coming into my house? Did I remember to vacuum?
Today’s Gospel passage from Saint Matthew tells the story where this Mass response originates. The centurion requests Jesus’ healing for his servant but feels unworthy for Jesus to come to his home. He trusts that Jesus is powerful enough to heal the servant without being physically present with him. The centurion’s faith amazes Jesus.
It amazes me, too.
Would these words flow more easily if I considered the centurion and his faith at that moment instead of being distracted by how this language trips me up? What if I used this opportunity to consider my own lack of faith and trust in Jesus instead of getting derailed by language analysis?
Do I believe that Jesus is equal to any problem in my own life?
Do I believe that Jesus can bring healing to the dark places in my soul and to those in my life who are suffering?
Do I trust Jesus enough to say, “It’s okay—even though I’m not worthy to have you come near me, I know you have the power to fix this from there”?
Jesus, do I believe that even in the midst of my unworthiness, you have this situation under control?
I don’t think I always do.
Do I believe that Jesus can bring healing to the dark places in my soul?Click to tweet
In the Prophet Isaiah’s words today, we are told that “over all, the Lord’s glory will be shelter and protection, shade from the parching heat of day, refuge and cover from storm and rain.” If we lived like we believed this—if we trusted Jesus implicitly to heal our wounds and those of our loved ones, how would things change?
Abbey Dupuy writes her life as a homeschooling mama of four while relying on coffee and grace. You can find out more about her here.
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