The unworthy one is me

http://www.usccb.org/bible/readings/091718.cfm
I Corinthians 11:17-26, 33
Luke 7:1-10

A regular reader of Homeless Catholic reflections forwarded to me a reference regarding discernment. He cited Saint Ignatius of Loyola’s 14 rules for “perceiving and knowing” the good things from the bad things. Yes, we have some heady folks in our readership ranks. Thank you, Dan. I read them.

The reference came in handy. I have struggled with the reflection this week, going down four different rabbit holes in attempting to grasp the leading on this past week’s reading from Luke 7:1-10. It’s the story about the Roman centurion’s request that Jesus heal his slave. Which, by the way, Jesus does. I traveled down four different, and faulty, paths to find the direction for my reflection. Faulty in the sense that the journeys I projected were dead ends. 

“What, dear Lord, were you hoping I would find?”

You might think that projecting a path and following the prompting of the Holy Spirit suggest two conflicting purposes. “I’m going in this direction, Lord,” instead of “Which way do we go?”

Well, taking off on a journey with eyes open for closed roads is how I often attend to my living room scholarship. And so I went off East, West, North, and South and all roads were closed. That’s not just redirection by God. That’s ominous. That is if my “redirection” was actually coming from God.

Here’s what the founder of the Jesuits had so say about this strategy of mine.

“It is the way of the evil spirit to bite, sadden and put obstacles, disquieting with false reasons, that one may not go on; and it is proper to the good to give courage and strength, consolations, tears, inspirations and quiet, easing, and putting away all obstacles, that one may go on in well doing.”

That bit of insight comes up in Ignatius’ Second Rule of fourteen. Ignatius is far more full-bodied than just this one rule I cite, but the words “putting away all obstacles” definitely hit home. In other words, the actual obstacles weren’t just dead-ends, but the selfsame me, myself. I’ve been the obstacle to this reflection. Some part of me kept getting bit. I was certainly disquieted with false reasons. My rabbit hole trips were poorly reasoned. I was “not able to go.”

During the Wednesday presentation of my failed reflection to our men’s prayer group this week I explained to them the theme of my four rabbit hole searches. None of the ideas had merit. All four notions, though, whirled around the centurion’s description of being unworthy. He sent a message to Jesus, telling him in his request to heal his slave. “Lord, do not trouble yourself, for I am not worthy to have you enter under my roof.” The centurion also said he was not worthy to come to Jesus either, saying instead, “Say the word and let my servant be healed.”

My journey on this scripture, the path I had taken, wasn’t about the four distractions of my scriptural research after all. In truth, the reflection was meant to be about being unworthy. Beneath each stumbling block in front of me I had already accepted unworthiness, being unfit for God, and the undeserved reception of God’s grace and forgiveness as God’s inspiration. I just didn’t know what to do with it. 

The idea of being unfit and unsuitable nagged at me. This is a common problem, an almost daily depression of mine, the obvious result of almost uncontrollable sinful behavior. Though nagging at my soul, I do feel a quiet easing among the tears about being unworthy. The welcome of forgiveness from God draws me back. My repentance is as practiced as my sin! 

The behavior of unworthiness followed by repentance trends toward the “good” mentioned by Ignatius. I didn’t know that was behind the obstacles being put in front of me.

Then, at the meeting on Wednesday, Lou asked me which song he should use for our prayers that morning. He usually has a prescience about the theme of the topics that each presenter brings. On this day he had two of them and he needed advice. Which of two songs should he use, he asked me — a song about the bread of life or a song about being unworthy. I immediately knew which he should sing.

After rambling through my reflection, noting the four rabbit holes and mentioning my untethered topic of being unworthy, we discussed the readings. One of the men, Steve, piped up about what struck him. “I think maybe you are struggling with being unworthy, John.”

Oh my. Guilty. I am certainly bothered and bound up in being unworthy. What should I do with that? How should I re-write this reflection?

Over the next few evenings, shuffling through my emails, I read from Dan’s timely reference about the wise words of St. Ignatius. “It is the way of the evil spirit to bite, sadden and put obstacles, disquieting with false reasons, that one may not go on.” That well described my situation. “It is proper to the good to give courage and strength, consolations, tears, inspirations and quiet, easing, and putting away all obstacles, that one may go on in well doing.”

The nodding truth of the centurion then comes through. 

“Lord, do not trouble yourself, for I am not worthy to have you enter under my roof. Therefore, I did not consider myself worthy to come to you; but say the word and let my servant be healed.”

We Catholics all say these words provided by this Roman commander of soldiers (and, an owner of slaves for goodness sake) right before we receive communion. He recognized the authority of God and was humbled near his presence. Still, he was filled with “courage and strength” enough to ask Jesus to do this for him. 

This is a man surely besieged by the warrior life’s sinful opportunities. And did I mention that he owned slaves? It’s not a holy apostle whose words we mimic. It’s not the precious sayings that surround Mother Mary. No, it’s a dag-nabbed gentile foreigner, hailed to Caesar, and owner of slaves.

These unseemly character stereotypes of the centurion were not an issue for Jesus. Similar sinful characteristics and constructs of our positions in authority surround our lives, too. It is most appropriate that we say these words before receiving the Body and Blood of Christ. None of us are worthy. It is our human condition. 

We are made worthy by Jesus welcoming us, by Jesus hearing us and responding to us. We are made worthy by our repentance and by our faith in the healing power of Jesus.

"I tell you, not even in Israel have I found such faith."

Jesus will unabashedly approach those who sin and don’t know him, like the woman at the well and the woman about to be stoned. Conversely, he waits to be invited for those of us who are damaged and ill and do know him. It’s an interesting reality. If we don’t know who he is, he will introduce himself. Once we are informed or aware about who Jesus is the onus is upon us to call upon him.

Whether he approaches us, or we him, his tenderness and awareness of our full life story are always apparent. 

The impetus is upon us. Repent and let him heal us.