a lawless blog

Twentieth Sunday in Ordinary Time A

August 14, 2011

Another episode with more than enough challenges. In itself there is nothing wrong with the notion of a select group, a chosen people, to start off an educational project. Of the nature of things, those not selected are outside the circle, and the rich experience of the in-group will not be shared with them until the time is ripe. In fact anyone wanting to launch a new direction in any society would proceed in this way. The 'Chosen People' are such a group; they are chosen to be the first ones to engage in a course of learning. The theme of education runs strongly through both the old and new testaments. Not so much instruction in reading and writing and other skills, but education about life, its value, meaning and eventual outcome, and how to live it, especially in view of the fact that we are not just individuals but essentially communal beings. To live together successfully we have a lot of learning to do.

I wonder do we yet accept the idea that Jesus himself did a lot of learning. As a child he learnt with the other kids in Nazareth. Probably, as today, they attended synagogue school, getting to know the scriptures not just as texts but, in the rabbinical way, as discussion starters, as matter for debate and interpretation.

As a young man he learnt his father's trade. He became proficient in the skills of carpentry and cabinet making. He also became a competent tradesman, able to negotiate a fair price, to work through job specificatioins, to be flexible when the client wanted late changes, and firm when the client just wanted to mess him around. As a tradesman running his own small business, he learned a lot about people .

After he left the workshop and went off to meet up with his famous and rather frightening cousin, John the baptiser, he found himself drawn to a period of solitude before starting his mission. Forty days and nights he spent up there where goatherds rarely walked, turning over and sorting out many pressing ideas, in a prayer of silence listening to the movements of his own psyche, recognising where the human drives clashed with inspired ideals and where those drives should be harnessed in tandem with the urgings of the Spirit.

Gradually the path he was to take must have become clear, and with it, the need to learn new skills - public speaking, teaching, leadership. Like any teacher he mapped out a plan of sorts and began to prepare lessons. In the event these often did not work out in practice exactly as planned. People asked questions, things happened to interrupt the flow, chance encounters required further development of the original ideas. In the gospel narrative there is evidence of Jesus looking for a way to proceed, or retreating into solitude when there was too much opposition.

I like to think that this excursion into gentile territory might have been somewhat experimental. Jesus had already instructed his disciples "not to go into pagan territory or enter a Samaritan town. Go rather to the lost sheep of the house of Israel.” (Matt 10:5-6) Now he had just been in bitter conflict with the pharisees over washing of hands, of all things! He needed to get away for a break, and perhaps felt the need for some exposure to the gentile environment. He would have anticipated some animosity from the locals, even if he intended only to contact the Jewish settlers in those towns.

What he got was every public person's nightmare, a frantic woman crying out in desperation on behalf of her daughter. She was using the Jewish title, “Lord, son of David”, and begging for “mercy”. 'In the Middle Eastern world, mercy is a sensitivity to and sense of responsibility for one’s debts to God and other human beings. People who ask for mercy feel they are owed something; people who show mercy acknowledge and pay what they owe.' (J. Pilch) In terms that business people would use: “Come now, have mercy on me: it's time to pay what you owe me.” Or in today's jargon the phrase would be: “Give me a break. It's for my daughter. She's going to die!”

Like many another person confronted in public by an unexpected challenge, Jesus just ignored her. When the disciples told him he had to do something, he explained he had no mission to the gentiles, so there was nothing he could do for her. And he turned and walked on.

This desperate mother would not be put off. She pressed forward into the open space in front of him and knelt at his feet. Her plea is now very quiet and simple: “Lord, help me.” The reply of Jesus sounds harsh, and most commentators take it as harsh. At face value either we have another example of Matthew's rough editing of Mark's text, or we have to accept that Jesus could be insensitive when he was not fully in control of a situation. But I am not sure that there is not another possibility. He might well have tried gently to explain that he could not help. There was nothing he could do. He was locked into his role and he had no right to change the rules. It might not have been without sympathy that he quoted the popular slogan: “It's not right to throw the children's food to the dogs.”

The woman's quick reply undoubtedly took him by surprise.

“Yes, Lord, but even the puppies...” The same commentator already cited says that she is the only person in the Gospels who proves to be a good match for Jesus’ wit.

Suddenly Jesus reverses his position: “O woman, great is your faith! Let it be done for you as you wish.” And the woman’s daughter was healed from that hour.

What was great about her faith? It is easy for commentators to say simply that 'great faith' can work miracles, but in this setting this woman has not made any act of faith in the God of the Jews or in Jesus as the Messiah. She has simply poured out her heart, bargaining on the merits of her case, and refusing to be fobbed off with platitudes about some being worthy of mercy and others not. Like mothers everywhere, she despised that sort of talk. She went straight to the heart of the man and said: HELP ME! Her 'faith' was great because it was driven by total personal commitment. It was free of the cling-wrap of religious proprieties. It's worth a thought that Jesus might never have come across such an honest, forthright, uncomplicated person in his whole life. They are not that easy to find in the elaborate religious settings of synagogue and church.

I wonder, now, is this the end of the affair? Did Jesus see this as a justifiable exception because of the strength of this person's 'faith'? Did he intend to teach his disciples that exceptions should be made on exceptional personal merit?

Or was something else happening? Did Jesus find himself in a new learning situation? Did a new insight make him change his mind? Confronted by this desperate mother pleading for her child, did he as an observant Jew see for the first time that this rule to withhold life from these people because they are not of the seed of Abraham could not be unconditional, nor everlasting? It was not enough to give in to this particular woman because she expressed her faith with exceptional conviction. Her need was as real as any Jewish mother; her prayer was as sincere; her faith perhaps greater because it was more 'original', more 'personal'.

He came to see that the Father could not possibly intend to restrict his favour to his 'chosen people' forever, to the exclusion of all others. There was in fact no valid reason to maintain this barrier shutting out her and all her people. Not to help her, for legal or technical reasons, would be worse than insensitive. Once Jersus had seen clearly what was at stake, it was just a matter of conscience.

From that moment Jesus began to realise that his mission was in fact not just to the lost sheep of the house of Israel. According to Mark's gospel, he returned from the territory of Tyre, and went by way of Sidon towards the Lake of Galilee, right through to the Decapolis region. This was the territory on the eastern side of the sea of Galilee where there were ten towns established like 'settlements' for Greek colonists. There he cured a deaf man who had a speech impediment with the word 'Ephphatha,' that is, 'Be opened.' The man could hear then, and speak. Perhaps from that time the door was open to all the gentile world.

The commentary by Michael deVerteuil is worth a read today:

www.catholicireland.net/liturgysacraments/sunday-homily-resources-year-a