To the Band of Brothers: November 28, 2023

Yesterday I got a call from a great friend whom I haven’t seen in a long time. We met when we were students at Fordham University. He hails from California. We became close friends because a few days after the first school semester started, he walked into class wearing a Miami Dolphins sweatshirt. I couldn’t believe my eyes. A guy from the west coast wearing aqua and teal. Not red and gold or powder blue and white, aqua and teal. I knew then and there we were destined to be friends. 

Over one quick meal at the campus Ramskeller eating food unworthy to be fed to Dolfans, I discovered the reason for his allegiance to the Phins. He had fallen in love with the sacred game of football in the 70s when the boys from Miami reigned supreme. Remember, that was the decade of the undefeated season. Little did he know back then how such an allegiance would eventually lead to decades of sorrow and pain.

As I got to know this rare Californian better, I discovered something else very special about him. He had an uncanny familiarity with the Bible. I stress “uncanny familiarity” because for a Catholic, he knew too much. Whenever I needed a passage from Scripture for a reflection or prayer I was preparing, I would walk down the hallway, knock on his door, and ask him. He would scratch the side of his head and proceed to give me book, chapter, and verse. For a Catholic, this is as rare as a Ruth’s Chris filet. 

Unfortunately, most Catholics think Genesis is an 80s rock band and not the first book of the Bible. We are quicker to recognize Luke as one of the cousins in the “Dukes of Hazzard” and not the author of the third gospel. This guy knew it all. He was able to recite whole passages with a single bound. So shocked was I by his biblical talent, I had to ask him where it came from. The answer made sense. The Californian with the Dolphin sweatshirt was originally a Baptist who converted to Catholicism. I knew there was something fishy there.

Years later, in 2007, an interesting thing happened. The pope at the time, Benedict XVI, made some interesting changes to the way we responded at Mass. The German pontiff tweaked the Roman missal and it threw most people off for a while. I know you guys aren’t aware because you simply weren’t alive at the time, but for those of us who were, it took some getting used to. Many of us wondered why we went through the hassle. We asked, “If it ain't broke, why fix it?” 

Interestingly enough, my bible-thumping, dolphin-loving, Baptist-to-Catholic, Californian friend was ecstatic with the changes. The reason was simple. The new text, the one we pray now, is much more faithful to the Biblical texts that inspire them. Let me give you an example. Before 2007, when receiving communion, we prayerfully expressed to God: “Lord, I am not worthy to receive you, but only say the word and I shall be healed.” After 2007, to be more faithful to the scriptural text from which these words are inspired, 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.”

I
know what you’re thinking… “roof,” what “roof” are you talking about? Is it the roof of my mouth because that’s the only place the Eucharist is going? The fact is, those very special and sacred words are taken from the Bible. In the Gospel of St. Matthew (8:8) the Roman centurion responds to Jesus’s offer to go to his house to cure his servant by saying he was not worthy to receive him “under his roof.” Now, the translation is not only inspired, but literal. Scriptural scholars refer to it as a “formal translation.” Literally, we are repeating in Mass the words of the one whom Jesus claimed had the most faith in all of Israel (Mt. 8:10).

Here's another. Before 2007, at the end of the preface and before consecration, we pray the “Holy, Holy, Holy.” For the most part, this prayer remains the same today, with the exception of two words that were replaced by one. The original referred to a God of “power and might.” In the current translation, we refer to a God of “hosts.” Why? Well, because it is more biblical.

The prayer is taken from the book of Isaiah (6:3). The prophet speaks of a vision of God sitting on a throne surrounded by a “host” of angels. It is Isaiah who refers to God as the God of “hosts” and not of “power and might” (which, of course, He is, but just not in this passage from Isaiah). Now, the prayer we say is purely and stupendously biblical.

As difficult as it may have been for some of us back in 2007, the new translation was an awesome idea. The fact our Church draws us always closer to our biblical roots is significant. No more can we Catholics be accused of being ignorant of the sacred Scriptures. When you go to Mass, you will have the Bible surround you on all sides. Who knows, maybe one day you will be able to recite extensive passages from memory like a former Baptist.

Auspice Maria