Putting limits on God’s love

Oftentimes, when I hear this gospel passage, I hear it referred to as the story of the Canaanite woman, which makes sense considering that one of the people involved is a Canaanite woman. The other, since it is a gospel story, is Jesus. Usually, that’s where our consideration of this story ends. We have Jesus talking to a Canaanite woman sounding, at times, pretty harsh, which has always seemed very contrary to the way I’ve imagined Jesus approaching those who have faith in him. So, I’d like to suggest a change in focus for this parable, a third character, if you will, who played a prominent role. It is, oftentimes, overlooked that Jesus is surrounded by and talks to his disciples throughout this story. And, in fact, I think that the disciples are the real ones who learn an important thing or two from today’s gospel.

I’m a Cubs fan. I have a friend who is also a Cubs fan. I remember talking with him a couple of months ago about how this is yet another rebuilding year. That makes 55 years in a row that the Cubs have been trying to rebuild a World Series team. He said that he was watching them one day and that they beat their opponent by eight or nine runs and then lost by two or three the next day. His theory was that they should have stored up some of their runs from the one day in order to win the next, as though the Cubs were the moral equivalent to Grimm fairty tale about the grasshopper who spent all summer singing instead of storing food and went starving to the ants for food during the winter.

I think there is a part of us that thinks in a similar way about God’s love. We say that we know God’s love is all-powerful and all encompassing but then we tend to put limits on it. After all, if God’s love is all-powerful and limitless then that means that we can’t put limits on our own love. That was what the disciples were doing in the gospel today. When the woman comes professing faith in Jesus, they want him to chase her off. This isn’t the only time they will want Jesus to get rid of people who cry out to him in need but it is the first time that Jesus gives in. I don’t think Jesus really wants for this woman to be sent away. I think he wants the disciples to face their biases, to face those times when they exclude people simply because they would rather believe they are outside of God’s love than within it.

So, Jesus communicates to the woman what the disciples would have him do, like a teenager giving into peer pressure. The difference, though, is that Jesus knows that this woman will stand up to him. Any desperate mother who thinks that a cure is possible for her child will be willing to be called names if it means having a healthy child. Because of her humility, her faith, and her love, her daughter is cured and she can walk back and, with her daughter, grow in the faith that was given to her.

The disciples, on the other hand, are left in a bit of a lurch. They have to face their own prejudices and deal with them. In this lesson, Jesus teaches them that racism and discrimination are the seeds of evil, not the way that leads to everlasting life.

This message will need to be quickly learned and implemented by the disciples. After Jesus death, the disciples leave Jerusalem and Israel and go to other countries to spread the gospel. They begin with what is comfortable. They first go to the synagogue if there was one in town. But, they would inevitably find the gentile audience more open to the saving message of Jesus. They find a common longing for meaning in these new believers, a longing that finds expression in Jesus’ life, death, and resurrection and allows these people who were not descendants of Abraham to be grafted onto his vine. This all happened because they learned to not let fear of differences drive them away from spreading the gospel.

That is the message the disciples learned and, perhaps, we disciples need to learn it as well. How do we treat people of other races, gender, political persuasion, theological understanding…? Do we let them go their way and we’ll go our own or do we try to get to know them and love them as Jesus loves us?

Living with contradictions...

As a young priest, I think I have a pretty good sense of what the church asks for liturgy, perhaps better than those who were educated ten or twenty years ago. And, as a result of my more contemporary education, I feel it my responsibilty to gently bring "creative liturgical reform" back in line with the church. One great example of this is pouring from the pitcher to the cups. The vatican has clarified that they would like us to do this before the eucharistic prayer and consecration. Since that clarification came out, most priests have bristled at this change. Some refrain out of theological reasons. They want to do it at the fraction rite so that it is the fullest symbol of Christ's body being broken for us and Christ's blood being poured out. Others who are suspicious of authority think that it is Rome's attempt to return to only distributing in one form only.

My reaction was to think of how it could be done and do it. It didn't take any imagination whatsoever and most people appreciate the change. No having to do one thing when the bishop isn't present and changing when the bishop is. No stubbornly ruffling my feathers at the thought of the Vatican telling me how to celebrate mass. Just make the change in as organic a way as possible.

So, I tend to be an advocate of doing what the books tell us to do and doing it well. Yet, in the middle of distributing holy communion, I became annoyed with myself. I have added something to the mass. Most priests do this and I have a good reason for doing it, but I have nonetheless added something. If people bring children to mass who cannot receive communion, I will give them a blessing. I do it because it recognizes the child who is present rather than pretending the child is not there or important and I do it because I think it is important to acknowledge children at mass. In an era in which each priest is a sexual abuser and each child a potential victim, I think it's imporant that I visibly interract with children in a loving way that makes it clear that I'm not a sexual abuser. I bless them. And, just as important, I look at these children as gifts. They are the next generation of faithful catholics to carry on the message of Jesus.

But the church doesn't say that I should distribute communion and bless children. It just says I distribute communion. Now, I have to decide if the absence of a rubric means tacit disapproval.

A God who gets disappointed with us

Last week, I kept reflecting on the image of an angry God. I know that probably seems silly to reflect on that. It doesn't square with the common picture of Jesus laughing with his head tilted back, eyes closed and mouth wide open as though someone had just told a golfing joke (or maybe that one about not finding a lawyer in heaven). The difficult thing, though, is that scripture sometimes seems to hint at God being mad. And I'm not just talking about the Old Testament. Think of the God who won't let the rich man repent of his sins despite coming to the realization that he has not lived a life of holiness by seeing Lazarus in heaven.
I kept thinking about how hurtful family can be to one another. I had two friends, very close friends that are more like family to me than friends, who exchanged exceptionally mean emails. One of our friends was worried that it would ruin our friendship. I told them that I thought it pointed to how strong our friendship was. The emails, though exceptionally mean, were really honest. One person stated very plainly some concerns she had about the choices another was making. This helped me understand God's anger a little better. God gets angry our of love. Those biblical images of God taking vengance out on other people show how much he cares about us. He cares enough to be disappointed in us when we do stupid things.