Matthew 15:21-28
Jesus left that place and went to the district of Tyre and Sidon. Just then, a Canaanite woman from that region came to him and cried out, “Have mercy on me, Lord, Son of David! My daughter is tormented by a demon.” Jesus didn’t answer her at all. His disciples said to him, “Send her away from here. She keeps shouting after us.” Jesus replied, “I was sent only to the lost sheep of the house of Israel.” But the woman came, and kneeling before him, said, “Lord, help me.” And Jesus replied, “It is not fair to take the children’s food and throw it to the dogs.” The woman replied, “Yes, Lord. But even dogs get the crumbs that fall from their master’s table.” Jesus said, “Woman, great is your faith! Let it be done for you as you wish.” And her daughter was healed, instantly.
I make it a point not to compare myself to Jesus – for so many reasons. But I found myself doing just that this week when I sat down to wrestle with this difficult Gospel reading. This one hit differently, for a change, and not in a good way.
What I mean is, like we just heard from Jesus, I was sort of a jerk to a couple of people who needed my help this week. I wasn’t as mean as Jesus, honestly – I didn’t call anyone a “dog” – but I was kind of a jerk, nonetheless. But first, I’d rather talk about talk about Jesus.
He and the disciples are spreading the Word, their working miracles, their feeding, healing, and teaching. I’m sure they’re still talking about how Peter walked on water, which we heard about last week. And then along comes this woman – a Canaanite woman; a Gentile woman in the land of Gentiles; and she wants to talk to Jesus. She wants his mercy and his blessing and his healing for her sick daughter and she has the nerve to ask him for it.
I say “nerve” because she was a Gentile, a Canaanite. She was not a Jew, like Jesus and his disciples. She was NOT one of the “lost sheep of the house of Israel,” as Jesus puts it. And because of that, she wasn’t on his agenda or in his plans or on his list of priorities. Even though they were in her neck of the woods – the region of Tyre and Sidon – neither Jesus nor his disciples wanted anything to do with her.
“Send her away,” the disciples say, “she keeps shouting after us.” “Lose her before she makes a scene.” And Jesus tries to brush her off, himself: “I was sent only to the lost sheep of the house of Israel.” “I really am only here for the Jews. Not for Gentiles. Not for Canaanites. Not for the likes of her.”
But she doesn’t give up. She keeps after him. She persists, like any good mother would, who really wanted help for her sick child. And, even after hearing all of this, she kneels before Jesus, utterly humbling herself, and she begs him … simply … “Lord, help me.”
And it gets worse before it gets better. If there’s any doubt that Jesus didn’t want anything to do with this lady, listen when he says, “It’s not fair to take the children’s food and throw it to the dogs.” That is as bad as it sounds. He compares her to a dog – unworthy of receiving the same blessings he came to share with his fellow Jews; with “the lost sheep of the house of Israel.”
*** Now, a little sidebar here. I have preached and taught about this text several times over the years and usually take the same tack … to make it about race, for instance; or ministry to the “other,” for example; or about doing away with the social and cultural divisions that separate people from each other – like how Jesus and his disciples saw themselves as separate from – maybe better than – that Canaanite woman. I like to talk about how even Jesus was influenced by his culture and community and about how even he had to learn and be persuaded to see God’s grace as deeper and wider and more all-encompassing than he was first inclined. And I think that is quite a compelling lesson to be learned here. But I’ve been there and done that – as far as sermons go – so this time around it hit differently, as I said. ***
Whatever it was that made Jesus rebuff, dismiss, and ignore the needs of this woman, this is hard to hear because either he meant it, which can’t be good. Or because he was messing with her to test the fortitude of her faithfulness, which isn’t great, either. Or maybe, like me this week, Jesus was just tired and feeling rushed and put upon and taken for granted by people who needed their emergency to become his emergency at a time when he just didn’t feel like he had it in him.
(For me it was phone calls and requests from some folks outside of the congregation – none of you, in other words. One was from a guy who needed help at the food pantry – NOW; another was someone looking for marriage counseling; and another was a woman who had a sick child, was out of work following surgery, and who needed help with her rent … IMMEDIATELY.)
For what it’s worth, like Jesus, I ultimately helped two of them and I plan to call the third. I just wasn’t my best self along the way or in my heart of hearts … I was a little slow on the uptake, a little frustrated in the meantime, I was cynical, suspicious, and skeptical about the “need” of their “need.” I dragged my feet and I thought some thoughts, if you know what I mean.
So, while I don’t like experiencing or seeing or admitting to this side of myself – or to this side of Jesus – bear with me for a minute. To not see this side of the story is to miss something significant; something practical; something holy.
Because what we see – for my money – is one of the greatest examples of Jesus’ humanity. Even Jesus could put up barriers. Even Jesus had blinders on every now and again. Even Jesus, it seems, had trouble feeling the pain, understanding the need, recognizing the desperation of those who weren’t like him. And even Jesus struggled to acknowledge the difference his kind of GRACE could mean for some people.
It’s not the picture I’ve painted of Jesus in our heart of hearts, for the most part. It’s not the gracious response we’ve come to expect from our Lord. It’s not the open arms and the open heart and the open mind I’d rather tell you about. And if this was true for Jesus from time to time – shouldn’t each of us imagine … wonder about … consider deeply ... acknowledge – that it might also be true of us in more ways than we are always able to recognize or willing to admit?
And, as hard as it may be to see in Jesus or to acknowledge about ourselves, we should, because I believe what happens next for Jesus, and by God’s grace, is the point in all of this.
What happens when Jesus encounters this nameless Canaanite woman – seemingly so different from him and his kind – is that he learns something about her, about himself, and about the power and potential of his ministry. This annoying, persistent, desperate woman – searching for her daughter’s cure – pushed Jesus and his ministry to a new level. What she showed Jesus and what she shows us is that we can open ourselves up in surprising ways. We learn from Jesus that his ministry – and ours – is for those we don’t always understand or “see” and who experience the world differently than we do.
The guy who got help from the pantry was humbly grateful for it this week, as he always is. The woman whose rent I paid could barely contain her great joy and sincere gratitude when I called to tell her I was on the way to deliver it – she wept with gratitude and raised a few “hallelujah’s.” Her landlord told me I didn’t even know the kind of blessing I was able to be for her this week. (Which wasn’t me, by the way. I just got to deliver that blessing, thanks to the funds you all contribute to our Pastors’ Discretionary Account for such occasions.)
So for me, the Good News in this morning’s Gospel is found in the humanity we’re allowed to see in Jesus – and allowed to acknowledge in ourselves, because of it.
The even better Good News in this morning’s Gospel is that Jesus, in spite of that humanity, makes a change.
And the best news of all in this morning’s Gospel is that it’s a call to invite that kind of change in ourselves – to slow down and to see people more clearly, more fully, more patiently; for the sake of grace … for the sake of mercy … for the sake of the world our God so loves.
Amen
