I hope I never become so accustomed to this Gospel as not to feel the sting of our Lord’s words to the Canaanite (or Syrophoenician) woman: the harshness of Jesus’ seeming indifference to her petition and her daughter’s plight. A homilist is called to illuminate the scripture readings at Mass, to explain — but difficult or painful texts can come with a temptation to explain away, to smooth over the difficulty, to make faith neater and God less mysterious.
We hear these provocative responses so many times over the years that the danger of becoming dull to the difficulty is almost inevitable, if we don’t regularly seek to recapture it. Not that we don’t make progress in understanding, but with these sayings the difficulty is part of the understanding. They’re meant to be difficult, and we’re meant to struggle with them.
Some of you may have seen recent news stories in religious or secular media about a new artificial intelligence/ChatGPT-based mobile app called “Text With Jesus.” There are different modes for Jesus, Mary, and Joseph — and if you pay some money, you also get some of the apostles, some Old Testament figures, and even the option to activate a mode to chat with Satan. One news story I read said that, when it came to sensitive topics, “AI Jesus is diplomatic.” I wonder if the app would let us text the Canaanite woman and ask if Jesus was always diplomatic!
Another story reports that, according to AI Jesus, to be a good Christian, you must “profess faith in me, but also follow my teachings and embody them in your life,” notably including the two great commandments, love of God and love of neighbor. There’s nothing wrong with that answer, exactly — except that our Lord’s authentic voice in the Gospels is consistently surprising and challenging, while AI Jesus can only tell us, at best, what we already know.
We are made for real connection with God and with one another. Love of God and love of neighbor: Even AI Jesus got that one right; it’s in the Bible. Real connection with God is something that can’t be measured, but real connection between human beings seems to be declining. Studies find that Americans today experience more loneliness and have fewer friends than in the past. And one reason why — not the only reason, because the trend goes back decades — is ever more ubiquitous digital technology.
It’s complicated, of course, because technology also connects us in many ways, for example, keeping us in touch with friends and family who live far away. But it can also come between us and people who are close by. Screen addiction keeps people from connecting deeply with each other. Young men growing up with online pornography have trouble connecting with real women, and this doesn’t just affect the young. Our pastor, Father George, talks a lot about what he calls the “fantasy world” of cyberspace. Just wait till artificial intelligence really hits prime time. People will think of a computer program as their “best friend” and even “fall in love” with algorithms. And why should relationships with God be any different? Some of you may know that one of the 12 steps in Alcoholics Anonymous, AA, involves acknowledging a higher power. People will be coming to AA meetings saying their “higher power” is an AI.
We are made for real connection with God and with one another. And whether or not you thought about it this morning, we are gathered together here today for both of those things: God is here, in our midst, in our gathering together as the Church, the mystical body of Christ. And yet even here, even in this sacred time and space, it’s rare to go the entire liturgy without at least one mobile phone ringing out. That’s not counting people with phones in silent mode quietly checking their notifications and texting or whatever else. If that’s you, at least you aren’t distracting everyone around you, but your prayer is diminished.
Do you believe that God wants you here, with him? Fully here, fully with him? Fully with one another, fully absorbed in the shared act, the corporate act, of public worship which is the Mass? That’s why it matters that we’re actually here together and not just watching the Mass on television. You help make Jesus present to me and to one another, as I hope and pray I make him present to you. Lord Jesus, you commune with us here today. Bodily, in your Eucharistic Sacrifice and your great gift of Holy Communion. And also spiritually:
When we do these things with love for God, God’s love is present in and through us. Love of God and love of neighbor is the key to everything — to all the scriptures, including those provocative responses from Jesus in the Gospels. As St. Augustine says:
Whoever thinks that he understands the Holy Scriptures, or any part of them, but puts such an interpretation upon them as does not tend to build up this twofold love of God and our neighbor, does not yet understand them as he ought.
The Gospels tell us that Jesus loved the rich young man. He challenged him in love. We know that Jesus loved his mother! Did he love the man who wanted to bury his father? Did he love the Canaanite woman and her daughter? Of course he did! The question is never Jesus’ love — the question is our love, and our faith. The rich young man went away sad, not because Jesus didn’t love him, but because his love and faith, at least in that moment, were not equal to what Jesus asked. The man who wanted to bury his father: so far as we know, same story. Not so the Blessed Virgin or the Canaanite woman!
Notice the similarity of these two cases. At the wedding at Cana: “How does your concern affect me? For my hour has not yet come.” In today’s Gospel, “I was sent only to the lost sheep of Israel.” In both cases, a question of timing. The good news is for Gentiles as well as Jews, Canaanites as well as Israelites — but the task of bringing the good news to the Gentiles would fall, not to Jesus, but to his apostles after the descent of the Holy Spirit at Pentecost.
All of today’s readings are in some way about this. St. Paul, in the second reading from Romans, calls himself “the apostle to the Gentiles.” Our responsorial psalm: “O God, let all the nations praise you”: the goyim, the Gentiles. In the first reading, the prophet Isaiah says: “The foreigners who join themselves to the Lord … I will bring to my holy mountain … for my house shall be called a house of prayer for all peoples.” This is the scripture Jesus quotes at the cleansing of the Temple. Of course the good news is for all peoples — but it’s not yet the hour. And yet this Canaanite woman persists: “Lord, even the dogs eat the scraps that fall from the table.” At this Jesus is overcome, as he is at Cana by his mother: “Great is your faith,” he says. The hour has not yet come, but our Lord cannot refuse such faith and humility. This is a beautiful example to all of us of perseverance in prayer even when it seems our prayers are not answered.
We are made for real connection with God and with one another. Sometimes it’s difficult. Sometimes we struggle. There is a temptation to smooth over the difficulty, to make faith neater and God less mysterious. But that would be a fantasy world. Lord, let us hear your authentic voice, surprising and challenging. Let us settle for nothing less. And let us so respond and so live as to hear you say to each of us, “Great is your faith.” Amen.
Copyright © 2000– Steven D. Greydanus. All rights reserved.