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Learning from the Centurion:
A Faith that Christ Marvelled
A Reflection on the Gospel for the Fourth Sunday of Matthew

by Assoc. Professor Philip Kariatlis (Sub-Dean)
The appointed Gospel reading Sunday for 28 June 2026—observed in the liturgical calendar of the Church as the Fourth Sunday of Matthew—recounts the well-known encounter between Christ and a Roman centurion (Mt 8:5–13) from Capernaum. The centurion is depicted as a distinguished officer from within the Roman army, who had been entrusted with the command of approximately eighty soldiers and, consequently, vested with considerable authority and military responsibility. Yet, despite his elevated position and the demands of his office, he is portrayed as a man of profound compassion, deeply concerned for one of his servants who lay gravely afflicted with paralysis and enduring intense suffering. The juxtaposition of military authority with genuine tenderness of heart immediately distinguishes the centurion as a figure of exceptional humanity—indeed, of profound humility and remarkable faith as we shall see—qualities which prepares its listeners and readers for the extraordinary statement that Christ will enunciate concerning him: “Truly I tell you, in no one in Israel have I found such faith” (Mt 8: 10).
A striking detail that can easily go unnoticed is found in the opening words of the Gospel narrative: “a centurion came to him [προσῆλθεν αὐτῷ]” (Mt 8:5). Whilst, at first glance, hardly significant, the importance of this seemingly simple action should not be underestimated. Here, we encounter a Roman military officer—a representative of the most formidable military power of the ancient world, but also a person with no immediate connection to Judaism, humbly approaching Jesus, who belonged to a people living under Roman occupation. Being a person outside the Jewish faith and an elite officer of the Roman Empire, one would hardly have expected him to draw near to Jesus. And yet, far from allowing entrenched social, political and ethnic boundaries that would have typically separated highly respected Roman citizens from their occupied subjects, the centurion approaches Jesus with remarkable humility and openness of heart, thereby foreshadowing the exceptional faith which Christ himself would soon commend and at which He would openly marvel.
As the Gospel story unfolds, we see the centurion portrayed as going out of his way to make an appeal, not for himself or a family member, but for one of his servants, all of whom, at the time, were considered little more than disposable property. It is well attested that in the ancient world, slaves were regarded as little more than property, and were denied justice, and attributed no dignity or even personal concern.[1] Perhaps, one could surmise that a Jew genuinelyseeking to follow and uphold the Jewish covenantal law of love towards God and neighbour, might have shown some regard for a slave, even though we know that this was not typically the case. Yet, for a Roman citizen—and, indeed, a military officer—to display such profound compassion, genuine care, and sincere concern for the well-being and dignity of those entrusted to his charge would have been highly unusual, if not virtually unheard of in the ancient world. In so doing, however, the centurion anticipates and embodies the very values and virtues proclaimed by Christ and his future Kingdom. Indeed, his actions bear witness, far more powerfully than words, to the inherent dignity of every human person created in the image and likeness of God (cf. Gen 1:26).
Equally significant is the manner in which the centurion addresses Jesus as ‘Lord’. As a leading officer in the Roman army, he would have had to pledge allegiance to Caesar as his ‘lord’. Roman Emperors at the time claimed the unconditional loyalty and obedience of all their subjects and more so, their army officers and solders. Yet, without hesitation, the centurion accords this title to Jesus, thereby displaying an incredible depth of trust and faith in him. Such a confession is all the more remarkable given the centurion’s own position with the structures of imperial power. Indeed, in approaching Jesus with the absolute conviction that his servant could be healed, he not only acknowledges Christ’s healing powers but also his unique authority and sovereign lordship. Herein also lies one of the most profound paradoxes of the Gospel: while many within the faith failed to recognise Jesus for who He truly was, a Gentile centurion standing outside its visible boundaries discerned in Him the true Lord and entrusted himself wholeheartedly to His saving power.
Reflecting further, we are immediately struck by the centurion’s humility in his reply to Jesus who offers to come and heal the servant. He responds to Jesus: “Lord, I am not worthy to have you come under my roof” (Mt 8:8). These words disclose a profound awareness of his own unworthiness in light of Christ’s transcendent holiness. Within the same verse, he continues: “but only speak the word, and my servant will be healed” (Mt 8:8). As a Roman officer, the centurion could, quite easily, have ordered Jesus to go with him. And yet, the one who, on a daily basis, would have issued commands, places himself in a position of a servant before the true Lord. His profound humility has led him to the realisation that true greatness lies not in power—or other worldly titles and accomplishments—but in the recognition of one’s dependence on God, the true Physician of our souls and bodies. These words reveal not only his incredible humility but, at the same time, his extraordinary faith. He is ready to entrust himself to the saving words of Christ, convinced that a single command is sufficient to heal his servant. Here, we are offered a profound insight in relation to the means by which the gift of faith can be received and practised in our lives.
The enduring lesson of the Gospel passage is that it is humility which paves the way for genuine faith. Indeed, we learn that the greatest obstacle to faith is a false sense of self-sufficiency and self-centredness because faith presupposes trust and surrender to another; and in the case of the centurion more specifically, to Christ Himself. At the same time, it must be noted that the Christian faith is never a blind leap into the unknown as is often claimed. Rather, it is a reasoned and deeply personal response to the revelation, within us, of God’s unfathomable love; something which needs to be cultivated on a daily basis so that it can blossom into a mature and steadfast faith. Through the daily reading of Holy Scripture and the wisdom of the saints and Fathers of the Church, through frequent participation in the liturgical services, we come to perceive the extraordinary lengths to which God has gone to reconcile humanity to Himself and to fulfil His pre-eternal purpose of sharing His eternal life and blessedness with us.
Indeed, like St Paul we come to the humbling realisation: “He who did not withhold his own Son, but gave him up for all of us, will he not with him also give us everything else?” (Rom 8:32). In the person of the centurion, we learn thatfaith and humility are inextricably linked, with the latter giving birth to the former. But also, the corollary is true: the greater the faith—namely, the greater our surrender—the greater we are humbled by God’s infinite and undeserved love towards us. And the more we contemplate this divine love—a love extended to us despite our sinfulness and wholly unmerited on our part—the more we find the courage to entrust ourselves and our entire lives to Him. Indeed, it is the gift of faith that allows a person to live with certainty that they are loved by Someone.Our surrender opens horizons of joy in all its fullness never even thought possible. Indeed, the greatest joy of all will be that our tomb will be the womb which will give birth to our gracious eternity, resting for all time in the presence and loving embrace of our Lord!
The centurion’s encounter with Christ therefore presents a compelling portrait of the Christian life: humility giving birth to faith, faith blossoming into hope, and hope finding its fulfilment in the realisation of God’s selfless love for the world who desires from all eternity to bestow upon humanity a share in His eternal blessedness and beatitude. Like the Roman centurion, therefore, may we humbly entrust ourselves to Christ, placing our hope in His unfathomable and abiding love—a love freely bestowed, though wholly undeserved, and capable of transforming our lives both now and for eternity.
[1]Roman writers like Varro and Cato “maintained that the only difference between a slave, a beast, and a cart was that the slave talked.” John MacArthur, Matthew 8–15 (Chicago: Moody, 1987), p.12.