Fr Christopher Dillon OSB
For once it is the words of the Old Testament which sound kinder than
those of the New. “My house will be called a house of prayer for all the
peoples” is a much more generous sounding statement from the prophet Isaiah than those words ascribed to Jesus, “I was sent only to the lost sheep of the house of Israel”. But, while universalism is proposed there in place of the more familiar exclusivity of the Jewish people, the real issue is to be found in Jesus’ concluding words to the foreigner, “Woman, you have great faith.”
Indeed, it is the case that we hear Jesus praising the faith only of foreigners, while he is more likely to be represented as saying to one of his own, even Peter, “Oh you of little faith!” That God should have an interest in and command of the whole world is nothing surprising to us; God is after all infinite and unique. It is relatively easy, then, to subscribe to his achingly mother-love for us all, in his mercy. It is the
way God is. But our having great faith; that is another matter. In general, the instances of great faith to which our attention is called are ascribed to outsiders as opposed to what St Benedict would call “the domestics of the faith”, those who are familiar with it all; that is, those who should know better.
St Paul refers to them as “disobedient”, even, “imprisoned in disobedience”. Probably, a better description of those so-called faithful would be lazy, dulled by entitlement, smug or self-assured. Would any of those epithets rest easily on any of us? I have to admit to a twinge of misgiving. Our times are increasingly familiar with popular disappointment with traditional authorities, fading trust in certainties and growing cynicism with regard to the truth, so that faith of any kind is at a premium. Religious believers who cling grimly to the literal truth of the scriptures are derided for their simplicity, so how are we to read this woman’s faith? Certainly, she is desperate for help, any help, and clearly she has heard about Jesus. At the very least, we are in the same boat; we too have heard about Jesus. But is our faith in him as great as hers? Jesus has spoken of himself as embodying the Truth. Is he our Truth? And, if so, what does that mean?
We are being invited by these readings, I think, to reconsider what it means for us to believe in God, to believe in Jesus, to belong to the Church as the community of believers. To what extent does any of it shape the way I live my life, if I allow it to shape my life? These are important questions, because they contribute to the maintenance of
a perspective for the reality in which each of us lives. What matters more or less? To be able to assert in all sincerity that God is; that God loves me in and through Jesus Christ and that God has made me to live with God for eternity, is already enormous. It is material for lengthy consideration and endless gratitude, very much, as it happens, in the terms expressed by the Collect Prayer for this Mass,
“O God, who have prepared for those who love you
good things which no eye can see,
fill our hearts, we pray, with the warmth of your love,
so that, loving you in all things and above all things,
we may attain your promises which surpass every human desire.”
In a time of cynicism and fractured trust, we have cause to be grateful to this anonymous Canaanite woman whose faith and perspective so impressed Jesus, as it prompts us to consider the nature of our own attachment to the person of Jesus and to his teaching. So, by way of conclusion, may I put a question to you? How often do you read
the Gospels, in order to hear Jesus for yourself speaking directly to you, rather than hearing only the snippets which are offered to you at Mass? It is something, I suggest, to which we could all give better effort and attention. It is something which would richly inform our consideration of what it is that we actually believe, in the religious dimension of our life.