After the priest shows us Jesus in the Eucharist at Mass, he proclaims: “Behold the Lamb of God, behold him who takes away the sins of the world. Blessed are those called to the supper of the Lamb.” Then we pray: “Lord, I am not worthy that you should enter under my roof, but only say the word and my soul shall be healed.” What do we mean by Jesus entering under my roof?
This prayer of humility comes right out of a Gospel story—where Jesus is asked by a Roman Centurion to heal his sick servant at home. Jesus says he will go with him to his house and heal the man. The Roman Centurion responds, “Lord, I am not worthy to have you come under my roof; but only say the word and my servant will be healed.” (Matthew 8:8).
So as we prepare to receive Jesus—truly, really, and substantially contained in the Eucharist—into the “home” of our body, we confess our unworthiness with the Centurion’s words.
No one who presents themselves for Holy Communion is worthy to have the King of the universe, the incarnate Son of God, the Lord and Savior in all His glory, as food! All of us are unworthy—and yet we are invited to receive Him if we have prepared ourselves for Holy Communion. If we Catholics are in a state of grace, if we have kept the communion fast, if we have participated with true devotion and reverence in the Mass—then we are invited to come forward to receive Jesus “under my roof.” These preparations don’t make us worthy—nothing could!—but they do show our eagerness and readiness to be receptive to the Lord. To come before Him with an attitude of worship and supplication rather than entitlement and pride.
“I am awed by this mystery of love. Here is the Lord seeking to use my heart as a throne, committed never to leave me, provided I don’t run away.”
St. Josemaria Escriva, Christ is Passing By
So we are offering up a prayer recognizing that the Eucharist is truly gift—“Lord, I am not worthy”—and that Jesus Himself, by His own loving mercy, can heal us—“only say the word and my soul shall be healed.”
Okay… Let’s reflect now on the part of the prayer that equates our bodies as a home for the Lord—to welcome Christ under my roof means to welcome Him into my home, my body, my life. Because of our Baptism, we truly are re-created as a Temple of the Holy Spirit—a holy house for God!
So how do we welcome Him? What is our attitude as Jesus enters the home that is my body, my life?
I want to share six different attitudes toward the Lord as we prepare to receive Him in Holy Communion. We could have an attitude of welcoming a stranger, a home inspector, a boss or colleague, a repairman, a beloved friend, or the true homeowner.
First attitude: Welcoming the Lord under our roof as an intrusive stranger. We keep the stranger at arm’s length, stiffly polite and guarded, we wonder if he might be casing the house as a burglar, or if he is going to go into a sales pitch and try to sell us something we don’t want to buy. We might see the Lord’s visitation as an intrusion, an interruption, and we can’t wait for him to leave so we can get back to our real life. The Lord might want to say the word to heal us, but we aren’t buying it! The door slams, the grace fails to bear fruit as we end the visit as soon as possible and shoo the Lord back out the door.
Second attitude: Welcoming the Lord under our roof as we would a home inspector. We might imagine the Lord to be entering into our home with his clipboard and pen at the ready—in order to identify and point out all the faults, deficiencies and repairs that we need. We might let him enter and show him around, but we’re on our toes, ready to be defensive or to act “shocked and surprised” when we hear about all that’s needed to improve our house. Instead of treating the Lord’s visit as a welcome opportunity for healing, we are preparing the justifications, excuses, and rationale for why the place is such a mess. The Lord’s visit to our home never gets to the heart of our homes—and we sure hope he doesn’t ask us to open up that door! There are some rooms, some problems, that we just don’t want him to see! Jesus may be eager to bring us healing, but we can’t let him heal us—for our attitude is more about hiding and distracting and denying.
Third attitude: Welcoming Jesus under our roof as we would a boss or colleague that we want to impress. We want Jesus to visit us—wow! What an honor!—but we don’t want to see ourselves as unworthy of the visit or of being a lower rank than others in our social circle. We might feel the need to impress Jesus, to remind him of all that we have done or plan to do for him. We might want to subtly remind him of the failings and faults of our co-workers so we appear in a better light. We want to be natural with Jesus, we want to appear friendly, but our entire focus is really on ourselves—am I making a good impression? Is he suitably appreciative of who I am and what I’ve done for him? Will I make the cut and get ahead? If we have this attitude, we won’t settle down to actually focus on Jesus—and even if he says the word to heal our house, we are too busy pointing out the beautiful décor, the fancy and expensive trappings, to receive his help with the foundations.
Fourth attitude: Welcoming Jesus into our home as the repairman. We know we are not worthy—in fact, all we can notice is the chaos, disrepair and downright dangerous living conditions of our house! We desperately want Jesus to enter under our roof and fix that leak, shore up that wall, replace the flooring and bring in more light. We offer the Lord humility of a sorts, but we still want to think of ourselves as being in charge—we’re hiring him to do the repairs we feel are necessary. No need to gut the house, to bring it down to its foundations, to lift the roof—no, no, Lord! We really only want you to change the light bulbs! When we welcome Jesus into our house as a repairman, he can bring about a healing that we truly do need. But sometimes we fail to admit that a bigger repair is needed, or that the Lord is perfectly happy with the condition of our home and simply wants to hang out with us and enjoy the welcoming and loving atmosphere we can create—even if the windows are drafty or the shower head leaks!
Fifth attitude: Welcoming the Lord as a beloved friend or family member. We are eager to spend time with him. We can’t wait to visit and share life—to laugh or cry, to open up about what we are experiencing and to let him in to the deepest parts of our home—the cellar and the attic where few other people are allowed to enter. We see the Lord as supportive and compassionate—loving us no matter what and enjoying our company. Jesus calls us his friends because he wants to talk and share with us—revealing all that Father has said to him. We enjoy the conversation and hope that he feels welcome and comfortable under our roof. This is a great delight for our souls—and a true source of refreshment for us. But with this attitude, we still limit the Lord’s work in our lives—for when the day is done and we get tired, we yawn and stretch and walk him to the door and say good bye. Then we relax and rest with our good feelings and happy memories—we pick up and reorganize our house and get back to the way things were before the Lord’s visit.
Sixth attitude: So, the final—and most truthful—attitude we could have is to welcome him as the true owner of our house. We are caretakers, stewards, of the house he built for us—our body, our life is a gift from God. We are creations of God, not constructed by our own skill and effort—and being His disciple means we live a new life—HIS LIFE. What if we welcomed him in as the true owner, the Lord and Master of the home? What if we handed him the key to our house and gave him full reign—knowing that whatever he chose to do with our home would bring us life and unending joy? What if, in welcoming the Lord into our home—but seeing it truly as HIS home—we would now allow ourselves to breathe, to relax, to enjoy His company and never have to take up the silly and inconsequential duties of pretending to play the hostess, colleague, boss or even suspicious and protective homeowner?
“[The Holy Eucharist] is the center of existence for me; all the rest of life is expendable”
Flannery O’Connor
“Lord, I am not worthy that you should enter under my roof, but only say the word and my soul shall be healed.”
Maybe next time I prepare to receive our Lord, body and blood, soul and divinity, in Holy Communion, I will pray like this—
“Come, Lord, I welcome you into my house—my life, my body—and I acknowledge that all I have and all I am is gift from you and my gift to you. My life is yours to do with as you wish—for you created me, you sustain me, you know what is best for me.
I thank you for the great gift of my life—and for establishing me as caretaker, as steward, of your creation.
I thank you for the even greater gift of yourself. For entering under the roof of my house and abiding with me.
As you enter under my roof, I give you free reign. You are entering your home—do with me what you will. Amen
Flourish Catholic 