Aside from the selected readings and the words of Christ, it is the only Biblical quotation that is repeated in every Mass we celebrate. The person behind the passage was not an apostle, was not a public disciple of Jesus, was neither Jew nor Christian and if we get right down to it, we don’t even know if he actually believed in God. What we do know is that he had faith in a chain of command and an uncommon understanding of our most basic theological belief that no matter how pious we think we are, when we are face-to-face with the extraordinary, “we’re not worthy.” He is The Centurion
The first time I recall hearing about the faith of the centurion was in the late 1970s when Jesus of Nazareth aired on NBC as a special television event. The four-night miniseries featured a star-studded cast including Christopher Plummer as Herod, James Earl Jones as one of the wise men and Ernest Borgnine as the fabled centurian that compels Robert Powell’s Jesus to heal his beloved servant from a remote location. His character also shows up during the crucifixion during which he proclaims the Nazarean to be the Son of God and leads Mary up to the cross to weep at the foot of her dying child.
Now, there is no evidence to suggest that the centurian and the soldier at the cross were one and the same, but I think we can all forgive director Franco Zefferelli for taking a bit of creative license on this one. After all, when you have an actor the caliber of Borgnine, you’re going to try and use him in more than one scene, right?
Still, as sincere and heartfelt as Borgnine’s portrayal is, I must confess it didn’t make much of an impact on me at the time. Perhaps it is because I was focused on the fact that he was an unlikely individual to place such stock in Jesus or perhaps it was the fact that the words at Mass weren’t “quite” the same…either way, I simply wrote him off as a random fringe figure in the Bible who lobbied for a “hands-off” healing from Christ.
But now that I am older and wiser (not to mention a writer) I can’t help thinking about the specific words we recite during our celebrations. These words are not chosen arbitrarily. Those who penned the Mass studied the scriptures and went over everything with a fine tooth comb. They looked at the obvious interpretation of the language as well as the subtext in order for the narrative to stay relevant and meaningful throughout the centuries. I find it so interesting that the line we quote at the crux of liturgy is not one first spoken by Mary, Peter or one of the other major players, but an ambiguious military man with no real “skin in the game.” In one nine-verse narrative, the Centurion offers up a logical rationale for Jesus’ authority and power based on his own profession, defers to Christ’s uniqueness and places his faith in an outcome that will not be determined by a grand gesture or military operation, but in a simple word.
It’s a perfect act of humility and one that does not require religious affiliation thanks in part to the person it is attributed to. It is a direct quote that transcends tenant because it is a concept that is both spiritual and secular. And because it is spoken by someone who understood what it was like to be both commander and corporal, it helps us determine when we can call the shots in our own lives, and when to be still and serve the will of God.
Today’s readings for Mass: GN 18: 1-15; LK 1:46-47, 48-49, 50 and 53, 54-55; MT 8: 5-17
