I have closely followed the ongoing war in Ukraine since the full invasion in February 2022. I wish the killing would stop immediately, but unfortunately, it doesn’t seem to be happening any time soon. One of the most striking aspects of this struggle is the highly derogatory language employed by both sides. While it’s quite understandable on the invaded side (for obvious reasons), the depth of hatred towards Ukrainians from the Russians is mind-blowing. Sadly, it’s only the latest occurrence of such violent tribalism on European soil. The Balkan Wars in the 1990s were infamous for their brutality and ethnic cleansing. Though the killing thankfully stopped nearly 30 years ago, there remains a legacy of deep distrust between the former opposing sides, sometimes erupting into violent protests or clashes. We had our share of religious wars a few centuries ago in this country. Still, their legacy – distrust and sometimes open hatred between Catholics and Protestants – lasted for a very long time after the bloodshed had stopped, and even now, occasionally, it raises its ugly head again. I could carry on listing innumerable conflicts around the world that follow the same pattern. It’s a highly dispiriting phrase: the same pattern.
This phrase is the background to the story in today’s gospel reading. Centuries of Israel’s struggle for their identity, as well as land, formed a highly closed, inward-looking community of Jews in what we now call the Holy Land. Siege mentality was common among the Israelites, surrounded by the pagans. They despised the Gentiles and saw them as inferior. They, for their part, paid back in kind, deriding Jewish traditions and customs. There was no love lost between the two. In fact, there was an undercurrent of thinking that all those pagan neighbours would be conquered and enslaved or even wiped off the face of the earth. Jesus, in today’s gospel, seemed to conform to such a sentiment by the way he first ignored and then treated the pagan woman begging for his help. Or did he?
His venture into pagan territory must have been puzzling to his disciples. There wasn’t a single sensible reason to go there. It couldn’t be a short city break – the Jews refrained from entering pagans’ houses, taverns, or inns to avoid becoming ritually impure, as illustrated by a good number of examples in the New Testament. They couldn’t go camping there; tourism as a popular pastime is a relatively modern invention. And last but not least, they could certainly expect a rather hostile reception. And – of course – they were not going to preach to them; that would be like throwing pearls to the pigs. In other words, Jesus’ disciples obediently followed their Master into hostile territory, but with a huge question mark in their minds. Quite likely, they were loudly discussing such a strange trip among themselves, listing derogatory, even racist, reasons why they shouldn’t be there. And then that damn a) pagan and b) woman came out of nowhere and started shouting for help.
Jesus, being a good teacher, immediately spotted a great opportunity for a practical lesson. At first, he ignored the woman and her cries, in line with what his proudly Jewish disciples would expect of him and themselves. But as time went on and the woman persevered, the disciples got tired of her cries and – rather surprisingly – found themselves in an awkward position; they interceded for her: “Give her what she wants.” However, their plea wasn’t driven by sympathy but by their discomfort: “because she is shouting after us.” Jesus’ response sarcastically addressed and effectively questioned their ingrained thinking: “I was sent only to the lost sheep of the House of Israel.” They had no answer to that. Although their conversation was finished for the disciples – they had no counterargument – Jesus continued it indirectly, this time addressing the woman: “It is not fair to take the children’s food and throw it to the house dogs.”
I wouldn’t be surprised to learn that Jesus used this line because He had overheard it, said by his disciples a bit earlier. It was another stab at His disciples’ tribal sense of superiority. Unlike in our modern British dog-loving society, until recently, calling people “dogs” was a belittling and humiliating insult. In fact, we still use phrases that echo such a sentiment, like “this country’s going to the dogs” or “one’s leading a dog’s life”. So, Jesus quoted his disciples’ derogatory sentence knowing they would hear it, but the response to it wouldn’t be theirs but the woman’s. And she did have an answer that drew Jesus’ high praise: “Woman, you have great faith. Let your wish be granted.”
It was a practical lesson addressing a number of issues faced by St Matthew’s original audience, consisting mainly, if not exclusively, of Jewish Christians, still reluctant to admit the Gentiles into their religious communities. In fact, it was the main theological and pastoral struggle of the primal Church in the first century AD, as testified by virtually all the letters by St Paul. Such deeply rooted tribal thinking had specific aspects but otherwise wasn’t unique. These days we can use different sets of criteria to draw dividing lines. Yet, the result will be the same in general terms: looking down on people with a usually unjustified sense of superiority. On my recent visit to Poland, I was taken aback a few times by some comments verging on racism, as if skin colour or ethnic origins made some people better or worse than others. It doesn’t. Stupidity has no nationality. The modern meaning of the practical lesson given by Jesus in today’s gospel is that we must strive to challenge and go beyond our stereotypes and any prejudice to see each individual in their own rights and value them for who they really are. The call by the prophet Isaiah in today’s first reading remains relevant to each one of us: “Have a care for justice, act with integrity.”
