Wednesday, August 13, 2008

Parish Letter 20th Sunday A 2008

Woman, you have great faith.

On one of my early hospital visits, I walked into a Parirenyatwa Hospital ward, where a parishioner was recovering. It was midmorning, between the visiting hours, so the place was very quiet with patients either sleeping or resting. I found the parishioner sitting up and spent some time with her. We talked for a while before we prayed together. She wanted me to sing a song with her and we did that. I anointed her and gave her Holy Communion. I sat by her bedside for a little while before saying goodbye, promising to pray for her and to come again.

As I was walking out of the ward, a man lying in the far corner said to me: “What about me? Do you not pray for me too? I am not a Catholic but I need some prayers.” I felt chastised and humbled. I walked over to him and said, “Of course I will pray for you. It does not matter that you are not a Catholic.” And I prayed with him. As I was about to go, I looked around and saw the look on the faces of the other patients, and I knew better to start praying with them before more chastisement.

I learnt something very important on that hospital visit. When I visit the hospital I am ready to pray for more than those on my list. I used to worry about being seen as imposing my faith, infringing individuals’ religious rights, proselytizing, and taking advantage of the infirm and other similar concerns of religious freedom. I take the precaution of waiting for those outside my pastoral jurisdiction to invite me first.

I have come to appreciate in a very sensitive way, the utter loneliness that people experience in hospital and the pressing need they have for human contact and social engagement. Faced with these needs, they surrender their ideological and creedal fortifications and become vulnerably open to the healing prayer available. It is a dangerous vulnerability, yet it is necessary.

In today’s gospel, the Canaanite woman makes herself dangerously vulnerable. Her position was diametrically opposed to that of Jesus on many levels; she was Canaanite – he was Jewish, she was a woman – he was a man. This position had serious social, political, racial, sexual, and religious connotations. Their dealing with each other would inevitably violate some sacrosanct code of behaviour in a reprehensible manner.

Jesus had ventured into this pagan territory to cool off the tension caused by his and his disciples’ non-conformity to social and religious propriety. Interacting with this foreigner and woman was going to dent Jesus’ reputation and confirm him as a deviant.

Jesus responded to this woman who was tormented by the torment of her daughter by testing her faith. She did not give up but pressed on, arguing that even if Jesus saw her as a dog, she deserved his consideration, since dogs are not denied the leftovers. Jesus saw her reasoning as evidence of her great faith and granted her wish.

Her persistence on behalf of her daughter, her desperation after trying only God knows how many remedies; her readiness to cross racial, social, sexual, political and religious barriers impressed Jesus. That was her great faith, for faith is more than a nice feeling of being loved by God, but faith takes up all our deepest pain of being human and longing for wholeness and healing. The Canaanite woman had it – she was a human being grappling with the pain of being human and needing wholeness for her tormented soul and that of her daughter.

I have learnt, in my pastoral care for the sick, that sickness is a time of religious significance for most people. There is a religious need that we experience when we are sick which goes beyond our denominational difference. In fact, it goes beyond most divisions that keep us apart. I see it more as openness to God than simply to an available minister.

At the behest of their religious mothers, I have been at the bedside of many a lapsed Catholic and have been amazed by the faith of the faithless. The sister of a man who had long abandoned church said to me as we watched him in a coma: “This is a special time for him. God has given him this time when he cannot talk to any of us for a purpose. This is the time for my brother to talk with God.” The next day the man died peacefully.

Those who take care of the sick and bear the burden of sickness vicariously, like the Canaanite woman who was tormented by the torment of her daughter, experience this profound need for God. I learnt this when a junior doctor at Parirenyatwa grabbed me by the arms on the corridor and begged me: “Father please pray, pray for the sick and pray for us too. There are things that we cannot do, but only God can do.” Here was another person tormented by the torment of others and longing for their wholeness and healing.

It is for faith as great as this that Jesus grants their wishes. Let us pray for the gift of faith. Let us pray that we too may be tormented by the torment of others and relentlessly bring their case before Jesus who will grant our wish. Amen.

In the Most Holy Redeemer Fr. William Guri, C.Ss.R.