a letter to the canannite mother

Dear Mom,

How are you? How is your possessed daughter?

You may not know me. But I know you very well. I was one of the bystanders who saw you last week when you came to plead for your infirmed daughter to the Jewish rabbi, in your words, ‘Son of David’.

How shall I introduce you? I am anyone who you meet in the road. One who gets into the metro. One who buys ticket in a queue. One who goes to the departmental store. One who is a next-door-neighbor.

Brave you are! If at all somebody were to introduce you to me they would say, ‘a woman, a gentile woman, a mother of a possessed daughter’. You were subjected to a threefold alienation. In a male-dominated society you were a woman. In the elect society of YHWH you were a gentile. In the blessed group of God’s people you were a mother of a possessed daughter. But there awaited another label: ‘the mother of a baby-dog!’ But what strikes me is that you went beyond the labels. You knew who you were. You did not care about labels. But, mom, I am attached to my labels. I am attached to my business card and identity card. I go around with my labels. I identify with my labels. If someone says something against me I create my own label out of it and feel sad for it. My labels give me privileges. My labels pull me down. I am carried away by ‘what others say about me’. If a word of appreciation comes from others I feel on cloud nine. If there is an air of indifference or critique I am easily put down. But the first thing you have taught me is ‘to be a mirror’. A mirror just reflects. It does not take anything it. It does not interpret. You just reflect and go your way. Hats off.

I appreciate your courage that carried you to meet the Jewish rabbi in the public. This shows how much you cared for your daughter. You were considered a nuisance. Your noise irritated them. You were mocked at. Made fun of. But you never gave up your plead. You withstood all. Great. When someone extends his or her love to me I reject it. I get irritated with them. When someone asks for a favor I sometimes give some excuses and quit the place. I too have called others as ‘nuisance’ and ‘noise’. I understand how much I might have hurt them. On the other hand, when I meet with such remarks, I give up. In my journey of priesthood when the sailing is not smooth I think of quitting. I appreciate your perseverance.

You won over the racist bias. Those who stood there with the rabbi may say that he was never a racist, his remark was to test your faith, etc. But I am convinced it was an unexpected, crude remark from the rabbi. But your response was an existential shock to him and the crowd. When you were treated a ‘dog’, with the very word you returned. You never wanted to be a victim. You were the master of the situation. When my color, my race, my vocation is treated ‘not up to the mark’, the first response is ‘I feel victimized’. I brood over. I punish myself. But today I have learnt from you never to be a victim of an oppressive structure. You never gave up your faith in the ‘son of David’ and ‘Lord’. But when I am victimized the byproduct is the loss of faith. I ask, ‘lord where are you when this happens to me?’

You came. You asked. You withstood. You won.

Good that I saw you on the road. It was the road not only your daughter’s healing, but my healing as well.

Thanks Mom for this distant sight of you.

You have made my day.

My wishes to your daughter.

Good day,

Sincerely,

Your Son