Readings: Numbers 13:1-2, 25 - 14:1, 26a-29a, 34-35; Psalm 106; Matthew 15:21-28
How are we to understand
this story in which Jesus is rude to a Canaanite woman whose daughter is
possessed by a demon?
There is a feminist
interpretation that says that Jesus, as a man, needs to be helped, in
particular by the women who come into his life, and that here we see him being
helped by the Canaanite woman to realize the full extent of his mission. She
calls him, as it were, beyond the boundaries of his own understanding and
imagination. We do, often, have difficulty accepting the full humanity of
Jesus and what it entailed. We are probably much happier, for example,
accepting that Jesus needed to be taught how to pray by Mary and Joseph than we
are with the suggestion that he needed to learn something about his mission
from the Canaanite woman.
If we work with
the belief that Jesus always knew exactly what he was about and always
understood what his mission was and how he was to pursue it, how are we to
explain the strange conversation that takes place between him and this woman? At
first he remains silent (as he did also when confronted with the woman taken in
adultery in John 8.) The disciples encourage him to do something for her, though
whether this is to help her or just to get rid of her is not clear.
Jesus then makes the
statement about being sent only to the lost sheep of the house of Israel.
Whether he says this to the woman or to the disciples is, once again, not
clear. The woman repeats her request: ‘Lord, help me’. Notice that she makes
exactly the same prayer as Peter in yesterday’s gospel: ‘Lord, save me’. In
situations of great need we don’t need to be told how to pray. Then Jesus makes
this strange statement in which he seems to imply that she is a dog, but is
immediately taken by her answer about the dogs at least getting the scraps that
fall from the master’s table. And so he acknowledges her faith and heals her
daughter.
Here’s a suggestion as to
what might be going on here. I spent a short time in Trinidad, in the West
Indies, but long enough to learn that the people there liked what they call piquant. It is a French word that has
hung around in that part of the world and refers to an exchange between people
that is witty and clever, moving towards being daring and even (to one who does
not understand what is going on) insulting. I can remember one or two
conversations of this kind where each party is expected to give as good as he
gets – there is excitement and fun in the conversation but an onlooker might
not understand what is happening and might even feel uncertain about it.
Might it be that the
Canaanite woman and Jesus are immediately attuned to each other – they were
able to see each other’s eyes, for example – and that their exchange is of this
kind, a kind of verbal sparring that both sides enjoy? They are then enacting a
parable for the sake of the disciples in order to teach them something about the
universal mission of Jesus.
There is plenty in the
prophets about the universal reach of God’s promises to Israel and we cannot
imagine that Jesus is unaware of this. The pagans, represented by the woman,
will come to the temple – which is now Jesus - and their prayers and sacrifices
will be acceptable to the Lord. He quotes this kind of text later in Matthew’s
gospel, when he drives the moneychangers out of the Temple and says it is to be
a house of prayer for all the peoples.
Jesus in his encounter with
the woman takes the opportunity to teach the disciples something about the call
of human need, that there is no limit and no boundary to where the light of the
gospel and the healing love of Christ are to be brought. Wherever there is
human need, charity is to be exercised and the healing power of the gospel made
present.
The missionary learns from
the missioned if we can put it like that. We might be tempted to think that we
know what people need and that we are the ones to provide it. Jesus, remember,
does not presume to know that: ‘what do you want me to do for you’ he asks a
blind man. The young priests who go out from this community learn what is
expected of them from the people who come to them, teaching them the ways in
which they expect them to be of service. There must always be this dialogue,
between the teacher and the taught, the missionary and the missioned, the
helper and the helped. Those we serve help us to realize the gifts with which
we have been entrusted. Their need will call us beyond the limits we may have
set to what we think we have to offer.
Fergus Kerr OP composed a
homily for Torch, the English Dominican website, about this encounter between
Jesus and the Canaanite woman. He concludes with this question:
Isn’t this wonderful little
story an invitation to reflect on the possibilities of liberation that pagans
may hope to find in Christianity, and the necessity, if they are not to be
disappointed, that we Christians discover possibilities in ourselves that call
us beyond our inherited boundaries?
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