Observe what is right, do what is just; for my salvation is about to come, my justice, about to be revealed. (Is. 56:1)
Christ’s salvation was about to come to a foreign country.
After once again offending the Pharisees (just a few verses before Sunday’s Gospel passage, Christ’s disciples told Him, “Do you know that you offended the Pharisees?”), Christ withdrew. He went 50-60 miles north, to Phoenicia, which is present-day Lebanon. And Christ appeared to be quite offensive there as well. His offensive ways seemed to know no borders.
The Phoenician woman began her conversation with Christ as every person should: She begged for mercy. Now, one would think a humble gesture like that would have garnered a warm and welcoming response from Christ. Instead, He rebuffed her, saying He only came for the lost sheep of Israel.
Now, the woman had some choices here. She could have chosen to be offended. She could have even cracked wise, and said, “If you only came for the lost sheep of Israel, then what are you doing in Phoenicia?” But she did not do that. Instead, she dropped to her knees and said, “Lord, help me.” And how did Christ answer that? He called her a dog! For the chosen race of Israelites, foreigners (outsiders) were dogs. They were (and are) “unclean.”
It was decision time for the woman. She could have gotten off her knees, looked around, and said: “Did you hear what he just called me?” But instead, she looked up at Christ, most likely with tears in her eyes, and said: “Fine. I’m a dog. Please give me a crumb, a scrap from your table.” Oh, the faith of the woman—she who was one of the first Gentile converts to Christianity. A foreigner who, as Isaiah prophesized, joined herself to the Lord.
Christ was not very nice to this woman, was He? If He were a modern-day seminarian studying for the priesthood, He’d probably get kicked out until He became more sensitive.
In August of 2023, Pope Francis preached that the woman got Christ to change His rigid attitude and behavior. She got Christ to open up to new ideas. Pope Francis’ close collaborator, who is now Pope Leo’s Undersecretary for Culture and Education, preached that Christ was “angry and insensitive” and “mocking and disrespectful” to the woman. But her humility was “capable of upsetting Jesus’ rigidity, of confusing him, of ‘converting’ him to himself.” And this conversion of Christ, he wrote, was “the seed of revolution.”
Really? A confused Jesus needed to be “converted to Himself”? And that would be the seed of revolution? How about instead we focus on something way more important (and way less blasphemous)? Let’s focus on the fact that Christ healed the woman’s daughter—miraculously. That gets lost on the modernist-types today—because they don’t believe in miracles; instead, they criticize Christ for not being nice. However, St. Augustine wrote that Christ was not withholding mercy; He was kindling desire. That was the traditional commentary since the time of the Early Church Fathers.
Let’s understand a couple of things: First, Christ was not “nice.” He offended people all the time. But that was not because of any defect in His personality. No, that was because He was challenging people and getting them to think. And second, Christ did not go all the way up to Lebanon just to cure some woman’s daughter. He went there to have people start knowing and doing the truth. He traveled there to show the world that He came to save all peoples, not just a certain race that lived on a tiny strip of land on the far east edge of the Roman Empire.
This is why the mysterious, enigmatic, and non-nice Christ tested the woman—to see if she was up to His challenge. For if she was going to become Christ’s follower, she had to come in all the way. She could not just pick and choose what she liked in Him. She would have to follow Christ all the time and all the way. And why should Christ have expected anything less? Soon enough He would be going all the way to Jerusalem to suffer and die for her sins.
All the time and all the way.
Last month I preached about the founder of Planned Parenthood, Margaret Sanger, and her 1957 interview with Mike Wallace. A scowling Sanger told Wallace that hundreds who came to her for contraception told her that they were good Catholics, “but their Church was wrong on this one thing.”
Really? Was the Church wrong about contraception? If the Church was wrong about birth control (as many Catholics were led to believe), then that raises a very important question: Can the Church be wrong about other things too? And if so, what are those things?
Do you see the catastrophe that was unleashed? Who would be attracted to a Church that claims to have the truth, but at the end of the day lets people decide for themselves what is right and wrong, true and untrue? Where is the attraction in a “nice” pick-and-choose religion?
It’s interesting about attraction: If you look up “Does birth control make you less attractive?” you will find hundreds of articles documenting how contraceptive hormones affect natural attraction between the two sexes. Some studies will show how women, when on the pill, are more attracted to more feminine-looking men, those the western world has traditionally deemed as “nice.” When the same women stop taking the pill, they are attracted to more virile, masculine-looking men.
It’s also interesting how a contracepting Church is attracted to “nice” priests, those who do not dare offend or challenge anyone. It’s interesting how a contracepting Church is not attracted to the Christ of the gospels. He’s rigid and has a bad attitude. So instead, it makes up a “nice” Jesus, one open to change on faith and morals. Of course, this new made-up Jesus is one who can be controlled and manipulated. He’s the nice boyfriend one can break up with. “Hey, Jesus, you are a nice guy. But I am looking for something you don’t offer. I want what the world sells.”
My friends, the world sells birth control to bolster the fantasy that we can be like God. And this fantasy has brought about a sterile nightmare, featuring, among other things, demographic collapse and the normalization of murder we call “reproductive healthcare.”
In the meantime, the awesome and magnificent sacrifice up on God’s holy mountain (Is. 56:6-7) has been leveled. It has been replaced with what Pope Benedict XVI called a “manufactured on the spot banal product.” It is quite boring. And nice. And sterile. It has assisted in killing the Faith in most places.
What is the point of sacrificing to God, if at the end of the day we decide on the truth, and not God? If Christ is no longer mysterious and enigmatic but just a nice guy open to change, are we not here then to worship ourselves? Are we not just converting ourselves to ourselves, and thus planting the seeds of revolution against our Maker? How boring indeed.
And now, understand something very important: The Church was and is not wrong on this one thing. Or anything on the matters of faith or morals. And nice guys don’t get hung on crosses. At Mass Christ hangs high, and if you are willing to follow Him all the way, He will join a foreigner like you to Himself—for His mercy knows no borders.
At Mass He will challenge you. And so, are you up for His challenge? Then at the altar rail, with your desire kindled, you can brace yourself, for His salvation is about to come to you. At the rail you can drop to your knees and silently say: “Yes. I am a dog. Please give me a crumb, a scrap from your table.”
Then, strengthened by this supernatural food, you can tell Christ: “I will follow you all the time and all the way.” And in the beautiful silence, Christ will answer you. You’ll hear Him say, “I expect nothing less.”
Image from Wikimedia Commons
