Twentieth Sunday in Ordinary Time
(Our video feed was experiencing technical difficulties today, so there is no video.)
My dog is always hungry. He will stare at me when I eat. I tell him to put his head on the floor making it difficult for him to stare. When someone’s staring at you while you eat, you get self-conscious. Fortunately, he can’t stare when his head is down. If I were in his place watching someone else eat, it’s easy to think I’d be getting a bite too. But we have this rule about food. He doesn’t eat mine, and I don’t eat his. He’s aware of the rule. It’s not going to change. It’s not up for discussion. But he will still stare.
Most people won’t seat their pets at the dinner table. But after they leave the table, the pets might scrounge around for scraps under the table. They might find crumbs, spills, even a stray meatball. And unless food is dropped under the table on purpose, it’s usually slim pickings.
We wouldn’t think twice about eating scraps under the table no matter how great our need. And we would be horrified if anyone should do that in front of us. But we actually do just that but in less obvious ways. Whenever we exclude people because they are different or don’t agree with us, we effectively disqualify them from our table. We convince ourselves it is they, not us, who are the obstacles to reconciliation and unity. We are convinced we have all our ducks in a row. We have done everything right and it is they who must change, become like us and do as we do before we put out the welcome mat. It makes sense that “the world (would be) easily divided between the righteous and the unrighteous,” between the saved and the unsaved, between those who have arrived and those who are going nowhere. “The problem is that this is the kind of division only a righteous person would make.” It is a distinction made only by those who are convinced they are saved, and those convinced they have arrived. [Homily Service, August 2002. Liturgical Conference, Inc. Washington, DC. 2002. p46] It makes perfect sense to set ourselves apart after all our hard work to distinguish ourselves from everyone else. Our sacrifices would mean a lot more if they afford us some kind of reward. Yet people who aren’t going to heaven could care less who might be going. And if we’re doing our best to get there, we would enjoy being able to say to them, “I told you so”?
The world is a big place, and there will always be differences between people. We cannot prevent diversity. There already are many different ethnic cultures, many different languages and dialects, many different forms of government. There are many different ways of doing business, of educating young people, and of believing in God. Despite historical animosities, we can concede God is present and at work somehow in all religious traditions. As well there will always be rich and poor people. There will be creative, innovative people and there will be dull, boring people. There will be energetic, exciting people, and there will be quiet, subdued people. In most cases, the differences between people are not a matter of good and evil. They are different ways of thinking, of speaking, of doing and of being. Yes, it is good to be able to tell when good and evil enter the picture. But if we can believe that most people are generally hard-working, God-fearing, respectful, and law-abiding, then we could put more effort into recognizing and celebrating what unites us. This general assumption is the foundation for dialogue and eventually, peace among people. If we can rid our hearts of fear that those we consider different have power somehow to make us become like them, we will not be so strongly compelled to change them or worse, to destroy them. Rather, we will learn to acknowledge them and their differences. We will engage them in dialogue. We will no longer be threatened by their presence. We will share our gifts with them, and someday we will invite them to sit at our table.
In the time after the exile, as Israel was returning to rebuild their land and their lives, many of the books that make up the Jewish scriptures were being written. It was a time to consolidate their beliefs and practices lest they lose their identity. But in the midst of this entrenchment, we read a strikingly inclusive statement. “The foreigners who join themselves to the Lord, ministering to him, loving the name of the Lord, and becoming his servants—all who keep the sabbath free from profanation and hold to my covenant, them I will bring to my holy mountain and make joyful in my house of prayer; their burnt offerings and sacrifices will be acceptable on my altar, for my house shall be called a house of prayer for all peoples.”
And the apostle Paul in his zeal for the gospel continues to hope that his Jewish sisters and brothers will come to recognize Jesus as the anointed of God. But he did not see the need to resort to the kind of rigid behavior that he practiced before, of using force against those who believed differently. He understood that God will not take back his call. God will bring about salvation for Israel because God is faithful. It is because of their disobedience that God shows us mercy. We believe God will also show them mercy. “For God delivered all to disobedience, that he might have mercy upon all.”
Jesus’ seemingly unkind remark to the Canaanite woman highlights the gospel writer’s conviction that he came first to bring salvation to Israel. But elsewhere in the same gospel we read of the magi coming to Bethlehem to see the newborn Christ child and later we read that Jesus healed the Roman centurion’s servant, all clear indications that Jesus did not wish to exclude anyone, that he came instead to bring salvation to all.
“As participants in a cultural exchange program, Jeremy Cohen and his family in Texas hosted a rabbi from Moscow during the Christmas holidays. To treat the rabbi to a culinary experience probably not available to him in his own country, the Cohens took him to their favorite Chinese restaurant. After an enjoyable meal and pleasant conversation, the waiter brought the check and presented each person at the table with a small brass Christmas ornament as a complimentary gift.
“Everyone laughed when someone turned the ornament over and read the label ‘Made in India.’ Their laughter quickly subsided, however, when they realized there were tears running down the rabbi’s cheeks. They asked the rabbi if he were offended at having been given a gift for a Christian holiday. Smiling, the rabbi shook his head and answered, “No. I was shedding tears of joy to be in such a wonderful country in which a Buddhist gives a Jew a Christmas gift made by a Hindu!” [Celebration, August 2002. p361.]
God wants to show mercy to all, to invite all to the table. Are we willing to share our blessings with one another? For all our abundance and prosperity, no one should be going hungry. Nor should anyone be scrounging for scraps under the table.
Rolo B Castillo © 2023