Gospel of Matthew

Why? Why? Why?

Why? Why? Why?
Pastor Cogan

Matthew 16:21-28

From that time on, Jesus began to show his disciples that he must go to Jerusalem and undergo great suffering at the hands of the elders and chief priests and scribes and be killed and on the third day be raised.

And Peter took him aside and began to rebuke him, saying, “God forbid it, Lord! This must never happen to you.” But he turned and said to Peter, “Get behind me, Satan! You are a hindrance to me, for you are setting your mind not on divine things but on human things.”

Then Jesus told his disciples, “If any wish to come after me, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me. For those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake will find it. For what will it profit them if they gain the whole world but forfeit their life? Or what will they give in return for their life?

“For the Son of Man is to come with his angels in the glory of his Father, and then he will repay everyone for what has been done. Truly I tell you, there are some standing here who will not taste death before they see the Son of Man coming in his kingdom.”


I know I have said it, but I can’t say it enough. From all of my family, thank you for the generous gift of time you gave to us for my paternity leave. It was wonderful.

I thought it might be helpful to share a little bit about what our days were like. Yes, there were (and are) the diaper blow outs, the endless piles of laundry, the constant “Clive stop touching her”, and coffee, lots of coffee. But especially in those first few weeks, there would come a point nearly each day when Clive had had enough of being inside.

It might have been the running laps around the kitchen or chucking toys down the stairs, but something would tell us he needed to go outside. And since I am not a source of milk, He and I would go for walks, or adventures, as we call them.

There is this little path in our neighborhood that leads to a small pond behind some houses. It’s got tall grasses and wildflowers all around, with tall trees hovering above. I would tell him we were searching for turtles, knowing full well we wouldn’t see one. That wasn’t the point. We would walk, look around, but mostly Clive would ask questions.

Dad, why is that flower yellow? Why is there water here? Why are the clouds gray and not white? Why is uncle Chad taller than you?

Admittedly, I was more than a little tired on some of our walks and did not entertain this game well. On my better days though, I would do my best to answer. But when you get five or six why’s deep on any one question, you’ve got to be a wildlife biologist, an astrophysicist, or a mechanic to give the right answer.

For example: why does it rain? So that things grow. Why? Because most things need water and sunlight to grow. Why? At this point I remember something called photosynthesis, but that’s about all and we are only three whys in.

And lest you think I am exaggerating on the number of why’s Clive asks, one study from the University of Michigan found that on average, a 3 to 5 year old asks 107 questions a day! A day! Most of them being “why?”.

I researched a little bit more on why Clive asked why so much and there are a few reasons.

First, at age three kids have an explosion of neuron connections happening in their brain, more than three times that of an adult. Second, it helped me to know that kids ask lots of questions with someone they trust. They are thinking, “this person is helping me figure out the world”. And finally, kids aren’t seeking attention with the repeated why. Instead, they are just unsatisfied with the answers, which means Clive is unsatisfied with me most of the time.

Sadly, this barrage of questioning doesn't last forever. Tight at the time kids start school, ironically the questions start slowing down. By halfway through elementary school, they nearly stop altogether, perhaps because in both our schools and our society we’ve come to value correct answers much more than good questions.

In reading the gospel this week, I can’t help but wonder how this conversation between Jesus and Peter would have gone had Peter responded with a question. I wonder even more how Jesus would have answered… Instead, Peter thinks he has the right answer again. Just last week, Jesus praised him for his answer to the question who Jesus was. “You are the Messiah, the Son of the Living God”, Peter said. And he was rewarded with a title, the Rock, and keys to the kingdom.

Yet, today we see Peter had the right answer, but the wrong understanding of what that meant. For him and most of the Jewish community, the Messiah would be like David and Moses wrapped into one, but even greater. A military leader who would overthrow Rome and lead the Jewish people out of oppression and into a new kingdom.

So when Jesus says that he must suffer and be killed by the people Peter thought he came to defeat,

Peter can’t help but think he is right and Jesus is wrong. Can you imagine how the conversation would have gone had Peter simply responded why? Why must you suffer and be killed? Why must you be raised on the third day? Throughout the gospels, Jesus never scolds the disciples or others for asking questions. Think of Nicodemus and all his questions or the disciples wanting an explanation as to why Jesus taught in parables.

Questions don’t frustrate Jesus. Insistence that someone has the right answer, or the right theology, does… Especially when that right answer or theology harms someone else.So if Jesus welcomes our questions, why are we so hesitant to pose them? Maybe because we are afraid of what our questions will lead to or we’ve been told we shouldn’t.

Like our schools and society, our churches and denominations place a premium on having the right answers or believing the right thing. And it has harmed people, especially women and our gay and queer siblings.

My hope is that this community is a place where we create space for and encourage good questions.

As we start this new program year, there will be many opportunities to learn together. My prayer is that not only will you commit to coming to one of them: Wired Word, Giving the Sense, Graceful Parenting, or others, but that while you are in them you are not afraid to ask questions of your neighbor, your pastors, your faith, and the holy words of the Word.

When we do that, we’ll make new connections and gain deeper understanding about each other and our God. We will grow in trust, helping one another figure out our faith and the world around us. We will also be, and likely have already been, unsatisfied with some answers you get: from us, from popular theology, or from your past church experience. And that’s okay!

One of the best pieces of advice I read about Clive’s constant questioning is that he's likely unsatisfied with my answers because they are causal, not functional. In other words, I am explaining what causes something and not its function. He asks why the flower is yellow and I say because of the pigment in its petals. That is useless to Clive. But if I say, so that bees and butterflies can find it, now we’ve got something. Preschoolers want an answer that is functional, that explains what something does, not just what it means. And that’s beautiful, it’s also very Lutheran.

If you have asked “Why did Jesus have to die?” and someone responded with “because that was God’s plan” or “because of sin”, that’s a causal answer likely leading to many more whys. I am much more interested in a functional answer of why Jesus died and was raised. That answer is perhaps more simple, but no less profound.

Jesus died and was raised for you, and for me and for the whole world, so that we might receive grace and forgiveness here and now, and that all creation will one day be raised to new life, just as Jesus was.

That’s why.

Until then, ask all the questions you can about this faith we share, about this God we worship, and about this grace we’ve received. It will help us learn together, trust each other more, and above all, get a deeper understanding of this Jesus we follow. We might not be satisfied with all the answers we get, but I bet one day we will be.

Amen


A Jerk Like Jesus

A Jerk Like Jesus
Pastor Mark Havel

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