“…for my house shall be called a house of prayer for all peoples.”
If Christians were, at one time, like monks living in a monocultural monastery where everyone said the same prayers, accepted the same moral teaching, and worshipped the One God, we are now missionaries. During our daily encounters, we meet few who share our prayers, agree with our ethical/moral principles, or worship any god.
Our Galilean was not unfamiliar with this kind of world. Where ancient Jerusalem was a city of Jews, Galilee was a polyglot of many languages and religions. Galilee straddled the highways from Africa, Europe, and Asia. Travelers came and went. Jesus might have grown up with children of uncertain parentage, unstable families, and varying religious beliefs.
The practice of Christianity involves the yin and yang of maintaining our religious beliefs and practices amid an indifferent or suspicious culture, while inviting them to join us. If “converts” share the same language and cultural expectations, the transition into the Church might be relatively easy. But when they come from a very different culture, with very different life experience, the customs and practices of Catholicism – which is said to be a western or European religion -- might be unfathomable.
If missionaries meet tribal chiefs who boast of a large harem, American evangelists encounter serial polygamy. An American teen, sociologists say, can expect to be married three times: once for love, once for parenting, and a third time for companionship. The middle-aged American, approaching RCIA, might be astonished into bewilderment to learn they should have remained married to the first mistake. “That was a long time ago; we moved on and lost touch. An annulment? What’s that got to do with believing in Jesus as my personal Lord and Savior?” they might ask. By the time the catechist gets through several layers of explanation, the applicant will have joined a less demanding Christian denomination.
The yin is the Great Command to evangelize the world; the yang is the challenge of receiving the world into a disciplined organization whose members must agree to certain beliefs, teachings, and moral principles. We might create a field hospital for the wounded but not everyone can be a nurse.
The New Testament, its gospels and its writings, addresses the issue often. Even the Lord Himself, as we hear in today’s gospel, was perplexed on occasion. Should he deal with this Canaanite woman and her troubles? He was bound for Jerusalem to gather “the lost sheep of the house of Israel.” He had withdrawn to the region of Tyre and Sidon, as Saint Mark says, “to escape notice.” But there she was demanding, “Have pity of me!” and invoking his famous ancestor, King David. Nor would she go away when he scolded her. Instead, she cleverly traded badinage with him. Like many women in his Jewish history – Sarah, Judith, Esther, the Maccabean widow, Ruth, and others – she had placed herself within the story and would not be pushed out.
Face to face with human need, he had no choice but to hear and respond with compassion.
Does this resolve the yin and yang of our conundrum? Do we abandon our principles and welcome everyone with all their peculiar beliefs and customs? I don’t think so. But the story reminds us that the paradox is unresolved and will remain so forever.
We can laugh as Jesus and his disciples must have laughed at the woman’s clever remark. We can laugh at ourselves and our rigidities; and compromise, perhaps one case at a time, in the confidence that Our Father understands and trusts our judgement.
It's fun to be Catholic because we don't have answers for all our questions!
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I love to write. This blog helps me to meditate on the Word of God, and I hope to make some contribution to our contemplations of God's Mighty Works.
Ordinarily, I write these reflections two or three weeks in advance of their publication. I do not intend to comment on current events.
I understand many people prefer gender-neutral references to "God." I don't disagree with them but find that language impersonal, unappealing and tasteless. When I refer to "God" I think of the One whom Jesus called "Abba" and "Father", and I would not attempt to improve on Jesus' language.
You're welcome to add a thought or raise a question.