I went to a small college. The alumni office sends me an email whenever they receive news that someone who was in school with me has died. I have received four of these email notices since Christmas. Two of those who entered eternal life were close friends of mine in college. One was in my wedding. As I clicked on the link to read their obituaries, I was struck by the absence of faith life in what was written about them. The write-ups showed they were good people who made positive contributions to their communities. They were loved by family, friends, and colleagues. But either there was no funeral , or no mention was made of clergy leading the service or of church membership. These deaths have affected me. I am sad. We were young and idealistic together. We had both great and common dreams: family, teaching or administrative careers, making a difference in the world. The obituaries showed my friends made a difference in the world—a difference for good—but somewhere between 1969 when we graduated and now, faith got lost.
Our faith in college was not strong—but it was present. We all believed in God and talked about him. We all went to church at least sometimes. The college we attended was a church school. But almost 50 years later, for them, faith seems to have slipped away.
Solomon’s Heart
That is what happened today, too, in the first reading. Just on Saturday we read how as a young man Solomon asked God for wisdom to lead his people. Now, eight chapters later in 1 Kings, we read, “When Solomon was old his wives had turned his heart to strange gods, and his heart was not entirely with the LORD, his God, as the heart of his father David had been. By adoring Astarte, the goddess of the Sidonians, and Milcom, the idol of the Ammonites,
Solomon did evil in the sight of the LORD”
Solomon got distracted and turned away from God. It happens to a lot of people. It seems to have happened to my college friends. The chain of faith dropped a link.
A Different Story for the Greek Woman
In contrast is today’s Gospel. Here there is a Greek woman, a woman who likely worshiped some of the many Greek gods or goddesses. Perhaps she had already begged them to rid her daughter of the demon, and they had failed. We don’t know. We know she entered the house where Jesus was staying and insisted that he drive out the demon. Jesus hesitated. Here was a woman who could be expected to depend on pagan gods. She wasn’t “one of his” to minister to.
But she was persistent and persuasive. When Jesus said, “Let the children (of Israel) be fed first,” the woman replied, “Lord, even the dogs under the table eat the children’s scraps.” Jesus response was, “For saying this, you may go. The demon has gone out of your daughter.”
This woman went from a place outside Jesus’ saving power to inside it. As such, she formed an important link from prophet’s predictions of a Savior for all peoples to the Magi’s adoration to “go to all the world.” As Solomon broke a chain of faith, she joined a chain.
There is no indication this Greek woman was wealthy, powerful, or important in herself. Yet her begging Jesus to help the child she loved both saved her child and moved Jesus (God) to change his mind.
Chains of Faith and Our Children
There is an interesting line in the Psalm today: “But they mingled with the nations and learned their works. They served their idols, which became a snare for them. They sacrificed their sons and their daughters to demons.”
The Greek woman refused to sacrifice her daughter to demons. She went to Jesus instead.
While Solomon probably did not physically sacrifice his children to their mothers’ gods, if he were willing to sacrifice to those gods, then surely he did not mind if the children worshiped them. Strange—not an act of wisdom, to let your children grow up to lead a nation under a special covenant with Jehovah, when they worshiped other gods. It’s not likely to turn out well.
It didn’t. At the end of today’s passage, God told Solomon, “I will deprive you of the kingdom and give it to your servant. I will not do this during your lifetime, however, for the sake of your father David; it is your son whom I will deprive.”
David must have taught Solomon well, because Solomon as a youth followed the Lord. But Solomon did not do as well with his children. So, they lost most of the kingdom.
On the other hand, the Greek woman surely taught her daughter how she came to be healed.
What is the meaning of all this for me today?
So many of us have children who have lost the faith. Did we compromise with our culture as Solomon did? Yes. I didn’t mean to, and I tried not to, but I can see now that I did.
But from an alien culture came the Greek woman in today’s Gospel. Doubtless her daughter would always hear the story of how the Jewish rabbi cast the demon from her. Did she then in time become a Christian? Maybe.
What’s the point? For me, today, it is that fidelity is worth teaching to our children and to ourselves. It doesn’t come naturally, like growing taller or developing an independent mind. Instead, it is like manners—something developed by prompts and expectations given again and again.
Yet, perhaps for the Greek woman and her daughter, the experience of the saving power and love of God as the demon disappeared created a powerful pull toward “the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob” that created a lasting bond. Maybe faith and fidelity came more easily for them.
When the chain of faith is broken, it is sad. But just as faith can be lost, it can be gained. We can lose heart–or gain insistence.
Prayer:
Lord, help me remember that faith can be lost, and help me realize that faith can be gained. You have no grandchildren, only children. You respond with help and plentitude when we come, dependent, on you. You save us and lift us up. You also let us drift away from you, if we choose. Our wills are forever free. Help me today, Lord, to use my free will to choose you—to beg you, like the Greek woman, for what I need, and to take my place in building your Kingdom. Help me be attentive and humble, that I not wander (or jump) off the path of righteousness and obedience. Help me to see the path you have for me today. And, Lord, lead my children back to you.
Comment to readers related to last week’s meditation:
As I wrote it, I was not thinking of giving up writing for A Catholic Moment. Your words were very encouraging and much appreciated, however. Actually, doing this writing has been a help to me in the work that I do with elderly and carebound. I have written curriculum to teach academics all my life, but writing for A Catholic Moment is the first time I have written publicly about Scripture or spiritual matters. I do see the characteristics of God’s presence in this work (better than expected results, feedback from others, and internal sense). Seeing it is encouraging me to combine curriculum and devotional writing in my Carebound work. Thank you!
