Gospel according to Saint Matthew 15,21-28:

At that time, Jesus withdrew to the region of Tyre and Sidon. Now a Canaanite woman came from those borders and began to cry out, «Lord, Son of David, have pity on me! My daughter is tormented by a demon». But Jesus did not answer her, not even a word. So his disciples approached him and said, «Send her away: see how she is shouting after us». Then Jesus said to her, «I was sent only to the lost sheep of the nation of Israel». But the woman was already kneeling before Jesus and said, «Sir, help me!». Jesus answered, «It is not right to take the bread from the children and throw it to the little dogs». The woman replied, «It is true, Sir, but even the little dogs eat the crumbs which fall from their master’s table». Then Jesus said, «Woman, how great is your faith! Let it be as you wish». And her daughter was healed at that moment.

The faith that does not despise crumbs

Luis CASASUS President of the Idente Missionaries

Rome, August 20, 2023 | XX Sunday in Ordinary Time

Is 56: 1.6-7; Rom 11: 13-15.29-32; Mt 15: 21-28

1. Didactics of Identity. Of course, apart from the spiritual content, the scene of today’s Gospel presents us with an extraordinary Master, capable of simultaneously teaching his disciples, proud to feel part of “the house of Israel” and a Canaanite woman, that is, in the eyes of the apostles, despicable, impure and idolatrous.

How does He do it? By giving voice, for a moment, to what her followers were thinking: This woman doesn’t deserve anything, she really doesn’t have the status of a person. It is better that she does not bother the Master (rather… “that she does not bother us”). Hearing Jesus call this poor woman by the derogatory name the Jews used, ” dog “, the disciples are reassured and believe that the matter is resolved. However, the tone of Christ’s words invites the woman to follow his desperate plea, puts her imagination to work and makes use of a domestic metaphor, recalling that the little dogs at home eat some of the bread that falls from their owners’ table.

Christ’s response is compelling. He performs a miracle and in addition gives the reason why he does it: the faith of this Canaanite woman is really great. Thus, she sees her faith confirmed and the disciples understand that God wants everyone to believe in him and to feel welcome. Or, as Pope Francis said these days, in the Church there is room for everyone, everyone, everyone.

Both the grieving mother and the disciples understand something essential: their identity, the identity that goes beyond the place of birth, the education received or the greater or lesser luck we have had with our family. And we, privileged as the first disciples, know that our identity, literally, is to be children of God.

A story for children. Once upon a time there was a young princess who was born in a castle to very loving parents. When she was only two years old, the castle was attacked by invaders and her parents were tragically killed. In the midst of the attack, a heroic peasant couple rescued the young girl and cared for her as if she were their own child. For the next few years, the girl lived and worked as just another peasant, not knowing who she was. Until one day a woman approached her in the field where she worked and revealed her true identity…

From that day on, the girl felt more secure and confident. When she spoke, her voice was clearer and more determined. And she approached every job with greater confidence. And she felt an innate responsibility to care generously for others.

Indeed, knowing one’s identity is a powerful force. In fact, identity encompasses the values we hold, and these values (our treasures) dictate the choices we make. As a good educator knows, identity formation involves three key tasks: discovering and developing one’s potential, choosing one’s purpose in life, and finding opportunities to exercise that potential and purpose.

2. Why was the faith of the Canaanite woman “great”? Because, although she was ignorant and idolatrous, she accepted the gift of Wisdom, which nourishes our little faith, illuminating what is truly valuable, significant in our life. It enables us to see the purpose, the end of our life. It is clear to a mother that nothing can stand in the way of caring for her children. The husband of the Syrian-Phoenician woman does not appear in the narrative. Was he working in the fields? Perhaps they were separated? Would they be an exemplary couple? Was she an honest woman? More important than all that is the priority, the clear fact for that woman: first of all, I will take care of my daughter.

Each one of us daily has that authentic revelation of Providence: Here is the person – or persons – that I put in your hands. However, our instinctive tendency asks us to react like the apostles: That person bothers me, he is a problem in my life. Mother Teresa of Calcutta said that if I only looked at the multitudes in need…I would do nothing. She looked at a few people close to her and was able to offer her life and move many souls to do the same.

The Canaanite woman, caring for her daughter, made the apostles understand that everyone, including people who do not know the Gospel, those who are unfriendly, selfish and overbearing, are called to join Christ in his sacrifice for their neighbor.

How can Jesus say that this woman has faith and moreover that this faith is great? Because, no doubt, that mother would have gone to the doctors and priests of her people, she would have offered sacrifices to the gods… all to no avail. But she does not miss any occasion, any opportunity, any chance to do good. That is a beautiful and practical description of what faith is. She turns to this foreigner, to this Son of David, as a last resort to free her daughter. Thus is fulfilled what Jesus had announced: The tax collectors and prostitutes will enter the kingdom of heaven before you (Mt 21: 31). The Canaanite woman had already entered by kneeling before Christ.

Some of us know parts of the Gospels by heart because we have heard them in many liturgical acts and in personal reading. However, we do not place our difficulties in Christ’s hands, which is at the heart of what our Father and Founder calls the Spirit of the Gospel, like this Canaanite woman who does not tell Christ “what to do”, but asks for his help, confesses her helplessness to help the one she loves. A short message is enough: Lord, help me. Nor do we imitate Peter who, sinking in the waters, says another equally brief prayer: Save me, Lord (Mt 14:30). The abnegation of this Canaanite woman, if I may make a comparison, is even greater than that of Peter, for her life and her fame matter little to her, she seeks only the good of her little one.

Six years ago, our dear sister Isabel Royo, a missionary in Puebla, Mexico, passed away. I remember that, visiting her, I dared to ask her to offer her sorrow for a young couple who were having serious difficulties and were on the verge of separation. She did so, during the weeks she was still alive. A few days ago, for the first time, I received a message from that couple, expressing their gratitude for our prayer and for Isabel’s offering. It is a touching example of how God uses our weakness, even during our agony, to manifest His mercy.

3. To cry, to laugh, to feel with others.

It is easy to speak of charity, of vinculum, of Christian love. But sometimes we contemplate it as something really impossible to live, because the obstacles are innumerable. We almost always understand charity as some good deed that we can do only once in a while; or a set of red lines that we cannot cross when dealing with our neighbor.

In today’s Gospel narrative, we see several ways of loving. First, the disciples, who had been generous and had abandoned many things to follow Christ. Secondly, the Canaanite mother, who does not mind giving up her fame, even the possible revenge of the powerful deities Baal and Astarte, for having turned to a foreign teacher. Finally, of course, there is the love of Christ, which can certainly be called vinculum, for it is capable of uniting all, as the prophet Elijah announces in the First Reading: My temple will be a house of prayer for all peoples.

How can we come to imitate Christ in HIS way of loving? A very condensed answer is: Through prayer. But in that prayer we have to place at the feet of Christ all that we have been given to be able to love. One of those instruments is empathy, seeking to put ourselves “in the other’s shoes”, in trying to understand their perspective. This is difficult, because it requires us to stop paying attention to our personal perspective, which will always be marked by fear, tiredness, uncertainty and, of course, our passions. The disciples, in today’s scene, were too preoccupied with THEIR task, with THEIR role, to be sensitive to the pain of the Canaanite woman.

What is behind my neighbor’s haste, anger, stubbornness, arrogance, laziness, greed? And also what is behind his kindness, his compassion, his tenderness, his well-managed or mismanaged affection?

Perhaps moments of distraction in our prayer could be filled with these questions, asked before Jesus Christ. Surely the Holy Spirit responds by making that natural effort something truly heavenly.

In order for each one of us to reflect on our personal case, on how difficult it is for us to live this empathy, which the Holy Spirit transforms into authentic charity, allow me to end with a simple story.

A family of five was enjoying a sunny day at the beach. The children were playing in the sea and making sand castles when, in the distance, a little old lady appeared. Her gray hair fluttered in the wind and her clothes were dirty and ragged. She was mumbling something to herself as she picked up things from the beach and stuffed them into a bag.

The parents called the children to her side and told them to stay away from the little old lady. As she passed by, bending down from time to time to pick something up, she smiled at the family. But her greeting was not returned.

A couple of weeks later, the family learned that the old lady was a retired teacher who had spent her whole life picking up shards of glass from the beach so the children wouldn’t cut their feet. And as she picked up the broken glass, she prayed for the people who had thrown it away, although she didn’t know who they were.

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In the Sacred Hearts of Jesus, Mary and Joseph,

Luis CASASUS

President