I will read Father Augustyn Pelanowski's commentary on tomorrow's gospel. From the Gospel of Saint
Matthew.
Jesus went to the vicinity of Tire and Sidon. A Canaanite woman who came from
these parts came to meet him and cried out in a loud voice: “Have mercy on me, Lord, Son of David! The evil spirit
torments my daughter very much." But He didn't say a word to her. The disciples came to Him
and begged, "Send her away, for she is shouting after us." He replied, "I have only been sent to
the lost sheep of the house of Israel." But she came forward, bowed down, and pleaded, "Lord! Help
me!” But He replied, "It is not proper to take the children's bread and throw it to the dogs."
And she said, "Yes, Lord! But even puppies eat the leftovers
that fall from their masters' table." Then Jesus said, "Woman! Great is your faith!
So let it be as you wish." And in that instant her daughter was healed.
Have we not felt at least once this silence of God, despite our cry? Didn't we feel
like he turned away, indifferent? We call, we pray, we complain, but He does not answer.
And when we fall at His feet broken by powerlessness,
He seems to have mercy only for our neighbors and even our enemies.
It's actually different. We get more than those we thought were favourites.
Paul
writes that God's excess of graciousness led Israel to disobedience, and then their
resistance led God's bounty to the astray of the Gentiles. God stretched out his hand to his people, but because
it was wounded by rejection, enriched by the source of the wound, it turned to the pagans.
Immediately after scandalizing the Pharisees, Jesus went to the border of Tire and Sidon,
perhaps to fulfill Isaiah's prophecy that foreigners would be welcomed and cheered?
But why does grace begin unkindly? He didn't say a word to her!
And she screamed. Provocation, inconsistency or God's strategy?
Even when she fell at His feet, He seemed unyielding. Her cry was rendered by the Greek kradzo,
which means inarticulate cries, a cry that the author himself cannot fully
understand. Perhaps he was waiting for her cry to become a request she could understand?
Maybe there was a time when others asked her for something and she was silent? Perhaps she was implacable for her daughter?
We don't always know what we really mean. Until our pleading gets rid of
the pressure on God and the grievance and complaint that is more accusing
God than complaining to God, God is silent. One of the concentration camp prisoners
was a baker before the war. A poor Jewish family lived next to his bakery. It happened that
these poor people came for bread. The baker refused. After a few years, in Oświęcim,
one of the guards often ate a sausage sandwich and sometimes threw him, like a dog,
half-eaten sausage-smelling bread. It took a concentration camp
to deepen not only faith, but also the generosity of listening to a penniless man.
Let us not be surprised that God does not listen to our cries and complaints today, but let us rather remember
whether in the past we did not leave someone without support, even in the form of a slice of bread?
Matthew.
Jesus went to the vicinity of Tire and Sidon. A Canaanite woman who came from
these parts came to meet him and cried out in a loud voice: “Have mercy on me, Lord, Son of David! The evil spirit
torments my daughter very much." But He didn't say a word to her. The disciples came to Him
and begged, "Send her away, for she is shouting after us." He replied, "I have only been sent to
the lost sheep of the house of Israel." But she came forward, bowed down, and pleaded, "Lord! Help
me!” But He replied, "It is not proper to take the children's bread and throw it to the dogs."
And she said, "Yes, Lord! But even puppies eat the leftovers
that fall from their masters' table." Then Jesus said, "Woman! Great is your faith!
So let it be as you wish." And in that instant her daughter was healed.
Have we not felt at least once this silence of God, despite our cry? Didn't we feel
like he turned away, indifferent? We call, we pray, we complain, but He does not answer.
And when we fall at His feet broken by powerlessness,
He seems to have mercy only for our neighbors and even our enemies.
It's actually different. We get more than those we thought were favourites.
Paul
writes that God's excess of graciousness led Israel to disobedience, and then their
resistance led God's bounty to the astray of the Gentiles. God stretched out his hand to his people, but because
it was wounded by rejection, enriched by the source of the wound, it turned to the pagans.
Immediately after scandalizing the Pharisees, Jesus went to the border of Tire and Sidon,
perhaps to fulfill Isaiah's prophecy that foreigners would be welcomed and cheered?
But why does grace begin unkindly? He didn't say a word to her!
And she screamed. Provocation, inconsistency or God's strategy?
Even when she fell at His feet, He seemed unyielding. Her cry was rendered by the Greek kradzo,
which means inarticulate cries, a cry that the author himself cannot fully
understand. Perhaps he was waiting for her cry to become a request she could understand?
Maybe there was a time when others asked her for something and she was silent? Perhaps she was implacable for her daughter?
We don't always know what we really mean. Until our pleading gets rid of
the pressure on God and the grievance and complaint that is more accusing
God than complaining to God, God is silent. One of the concentration camp prisoners
was a baker before the war. A poor Jewish family lived next to his bakery. It happened that
these poor people came for bread. The baker refused. After a few years, in Oświęcim,
one of the guards often ate a sausage sandwich and sometimes threw him, like a dog,
half-eaten sausage-smelling bread. It took a concentration camp
to deepen not only faith, but also the generosity of listening to a penniless man.
Let us not be surprised that God does not listen to our cries and complaints today, but let us rather remember
whether in the past we did not leave someone without support, even in the form of a slice of bread?
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