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Homily:
20th Sunday of Ordinary Time – Cycle A
Cancer has to be one of the more sinister illnesses known
to man. This is because cancer often
grows and spreads within a person’s body—overtaking otherwise healthy
organs—without manifesting itself in any discernible symptoms. When symptoms do begin to show—for example, a
persistent pain or discomfort or a sign of an abnormal growth—the cancer’s
progression is often so far advanced that there is little that doctors can do
to stop it. Once a person discovers the affliction, however, and acknowledges
just how sick he or she is, he or she often wastes no time seeking out the most
highly-reputed physician around, hoping to find a cure.
This was my own experience with cancer. Five years ago, I noticed an abnormal growth
in the lymph nodes in my left armpit.
Having no other symptoms indicating that I was sick, I largely ignored
it. I thought “if it truly was cancer,
I’d already feel sick; but I feel fine, so it is probably something else.” When I finally did have it biopsied, however,
I was told that it was cancer. And after
a full body scan, I was told that the cancer had spread to other areas of my
body: that I was, in fact, “stage 4”.
This, I could not ignore. I had
to acknowledge that I was sick and, thus, my immediate need to seek out the
best doctor I could find in the hope of getting treatment that would lead to a
cure.
Throughout the Gospels, we see both sides of this story
being played out in relation to Jesus, the divine physician. In many stories recounted by the Gospels we
see how the sick begged to be carried out to Jesus just so that they might have
a chance see him and to beg for his help, or even just to touch the tassel of
his cloak, in the hopes of being healed.
These, of course, were those who sicknesses had manifested themselves
outwardly, thus driving these men and women to recognize their need for Christ
and his healing. On the other hand, we
also see how the religious elite—the Scribes and the Pharisees—failed to
recognize any need for Christ and his healing; relying instead on blind
adherence to the letter of the Law even though a spiritual cancer was silently
destroying them on the inside.
In our Gospel today, we hear how a Canaanite woman
approached Jesus to plead for the healing of her daughter, who had been
afflicted by an evil spirit; and we see many extraordinary things in this
encounter. First, Jesus has crossed the
border into the region of Tyre and Sidon—into the land of the Gentiles: that
is, those who were not Jewish—and he is then approached by a woman—a Canaanite, whom the Jews despised—who
begged him for help. These details are
extraordinary because Jews, generally, had no reason to go outside of their
land and they had even less reason to interact with the people of these other
lands; for they were pagan and thus ritually impure. And so, contact with them would have made the
Jew ritually impure as well. Add to it
that public interactions between men and women were culturally taboo and you
can see that this public encounter between Jesus and this Canaanite woman in
her own land was rather extraordinary.
Now, there has been much ink spilled trying to understand
Jesus’ response to this woman. But if we
take it somewhat as it is, I think that we can find some spiritual insight for
ourselves. Jesus, for all he did and
taught, was a faithful Jew and when appropriate he followed Jewish customs. Thus, when this pagan woman approached him,
he at first ignored her. When she
persisted, he declared the truth: that he had come for “the lost sheep of the
house of Israel” and so continued to ignore her. When she persisted even further, he explained
yet again that it was not right to give to her—who was not of the “house of
Israel”—that which was destined for those who were of the house of Israel. Jesus, we see, was fulfilling the role of
what most thought the Messiah would be: a faithful Jew of the house of David
who had come to restore the kingdom for the sons of Israel.
The woman’s response, however, moves Jesus to more. The woman acknowledged her own spiritual
depravity: “Yes, Lord, I acknowledge that I do not deserve your mercy; for I do
not belong to the house of Israel. But
don’t also the dogs eat from that which falls from their masters’ tables?” In other words, she acknowledged her own
exclusion from the chosen people and, thus, her lack of any claim to Jesus’
help, but also that Jesus’ mercy was big enough to spill over even to one who
did not deserve it; and it seems like it is this that causes Jesus to
respond. It’s as if her humility was so
unexpected that it moved Jesus to pity and made him bend to her request.
Saint Terese of Lisieux has said that if it seems as if God
is ignoring us it’s not because we’re too small for him to take notice, but
rather that we haven’t become small enough to move him to respond. So often we come before Him seeking help for
others who seemingly are more afflicted than we are. Yet, we fail to acknowledge our own
depravity—that is, our own need for Christ’s healing and our unworthiness to receive it—when we approach him. We need only to approach him from a place of
truth, however, a place in which we acknowledge our brokenness and constant
need for his mercy, in order to find him “defeated” also by our humility and
thus moved to act on our behalf.
When I was diagnosed with stage 4 cancer, I had to submit
myself fully to the doctor and to whatever course of treatment he would
recommend for me. I had to acknowledge
completely how sick I was and how powerless I was to do anything about it. I did and, thanks be to God and to the grace
of modern medicine, I can stand before you today more than four years in
remission. All of us, however, have
great needs in our lives, both physical and spiritual: either for ourselves or,
very often, for those who are dear to us.
Collectively, we also carry the burdens of those who suffer greatly, but
who are far removed from us: like our brothers and sisters in Iraq who are
suffering a severe persecution at this time.
Therefore, as we approach this altar of grace today, may the
acknowledgement of our “smallness” before God lead us to find his healing
mercy, both in our lives and in the lives of all those for whom we pray.
Given at All Saints Parish:
Logansport, IN – August 16th & 17th, 2014
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