[1]Once upon a time two brothers, who lived on adjoining farms, fell into conflict. It was the first serious rift in 40 years of farming side by side, sharing machinery, and trading labor and goods without conflict. Then the long collaboration fell apart. It began with a small misunderstanding and it grew into a major difference that finally exploded into an exchange of bitter words, followed by weeks of silence.
One morning there was a knock on the older brother’s door. He opened it to find a man with a carpenter’s tool box. “I’m looking for a few days’ work,” he said. “Perhaps you would have a few small jobs here and there I could help with?” “Yes,” said the older brother. “I do have a job for you. Look across the creek at that farm. That’s my neighbor; in fact, it’s my younger brother. Last week there was a meadow between us and he took his bulldozer to the river levee and now there’s a creek between us. Well, he may have done this to spite me, but I’ll do him one better. See that pile of lumber by the barn? I want you to build me a fence—an 8-foot fence—so I won’t see his place or his face any more. The carpenter said, “I think I understand the situation. Show me the nails and the post-hole digger and I’ll be about to do a job that pleases you.”
The older brother had to go to town, so he helped the carpenter get the materials ready and then was off for the day. The carpenter worked hard all day measuring, sawing, nailing. About sunset when the famer returned, the carpenter had just finished his job. The farmer’s eyes opened wide, his jaw dropped. There was no fence there at all. It was a bridge—a bridge stretching from one side of the creek to the other. A fine piece of work, handrails and all—and the neighbor, his younger brother, was coming toward them, his arms outstretched—“You are quite a fellow to build this bridge after all I’ve said and done.” The two brothers stood at each end of the bridge, and then they met in the middle, taking each other’s hand. They turned to see the carpenter hoist his toolbox onto his shoulder. “No, wait!” I’ve a lot of other projects for you,” said the older brother. “I’d love to stay on,” the carpenter said, “but I have many more bridges to build.”
Once a family feud gets rolling it is extremely difficult to break it. Even the one who has the material to build the bridge in the relationship seems to have to work up to it. One reason we may be so hesitant to get back together is that inherent in injurer and injured reuniting is an understanding that reconciliation will grow to become the norm. Then where would we be?[2]
I love the thread of reconciliation and communal unity that weaves all our readings together this Sunday. In our first reading, Isaiah is reminding the Judean community of their covenant obligations; doing what is right and just is essential to their identity as God’s covenant partners. Justice, for humans and for God, means living in right relationship. The Jews had long understood their duty to live in right relationship with God by loving the Lords name, being his servants, observing the Sabbath, and holding to the covenant. What happens when live in right relationship with God? JOY! And what happens when others see you living with such joy? They say, “I don’t know what’s in their Kool Aid but I want some!” There is a natural attraction. What God is making clear to his people is that the burnt offerings and sacrifices, so important for worship among the Jews, is equally acceptable when offered by foreigners. So much so that Isaiah tells the Jews that foreigners who observe the covenant obligations can be like members of their own community.
Paul uses his own ministry to explain what he sees as a historical change of situation. A devote Jew himself, he knows that the Jewish people have long understood themselves as God’s chosen people, but his anguish is that most of his own kindred have not accepted the Messiah. So what does Paul do? “I glory in my ministry in order to make my race jealous and thus save some of them.” The Jews rejection has had a positive divine purpose. Their rejection becomes the bridge that brings God’s mercy to the Gentiles, and, for Paul, that his own people, out of jealousy would come to recognize Jesus as the Messiah, as they see the joy of the Gentiles reception.
Let us not be too naïve of the power of enculturation, which is the learned behaviors and norms of the society in which we live. Achieving communal happiness and inclusion is hard work. If you’ve been watching the news for the past two weeks you get the idea of just how hard it is for communal unity. In the gospel, Jesus and his disciples are surprised and somewhat frustrated by this Canaanite woman who approaches him so directly and persistently. This is another glimpse of Jesus’ humanity as he responds within the cultural norms that say he shouldn’t give this foreigner his attention, yet its Isaiah’s prophesy that says he should acknowledge this woman’s faith because she recognizes and address’ Jesus with a title rich in meaning for the Jews, “Lord, the Son of David.” She sees Jesus as the bridge to God’s salvation and mercy. Jesus may have come for the lost sheep of Israel but that didn’t mean to the exclusion of the Gentiles. Jesus’ love and compassion has no boundaries, it tears down fences build by human weaknesses.
As we prepare ourselves to cross the bridge to enter into the mystery of Jesus Passion, Death & Resurrection, in this Eucharistic feast, let us consider the feuds in our own lives, where we’ve allowed injury to create a wide creek to divide us. Have there been times when we did not challenge the boundaries or fence lines of fear, discrimination or hate? Jesus’ unfathomable mercy is available for all and as the master carpenter, he has given us all the materials and tools necessary to build and be fences or bridges. Which will you choose?
[1] New American Bible, Saint Joseph Edition. © 1986. Scriptures: Isaiah 56:1, 6-8; Romans 11:13-15,
29-32; Matthew 15:21-28.
[2] Wrestling Year A, Connecting
Sunday Readings with Lived Experience. © 2013. by Wesley White. In Media Res, LLC, Onalaska, WI.
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