"Hurricane Harvey and Tasting the Kingdom" - Matthew 16:21-28

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 stumbling block to me; for you are setting your mind not on divine things but on human things." Then Jesus told his disciples, "If any want to become my followers, 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."

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I heard a new thing this week as I stewed about this pretty familiar bit of Matthew’s Gospel – a passage I’ve read and considered and preached on a handful of times before. A lot of this is old, good news, really. All that stuff about denying yourself and taking up your cross; about losing your life in order to find it; and of course all of that stuff about Jesus suffering and dying and being raised on the third day. We need to be reminded of it all over and over again, so we do and we are.

But the new thing hit me when I read that last little bit from Jesus this time around, where he says, “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.” “…some standing here…will not taste death before they see the Son of Man coming in his kingdom.”

Since he prefaces that statement with talk of “angels” and “repayment for what has been done,” I always and only considered those words as some sort of cosmic prophecy about the end of time; that Jesus was predicting his end-times return to redeem the world; like we read about in Revelation, and that hope-filled and sometimes crazy people have been longing for and making preparations about ever since. And maybe that is what Jesus meant. So frankly, I always and only heard that promise or prediction from Jesus as something he got wrong. After all, every one of those who was listening to him that day – Peter and the other disciples – are dead and long gone, right? Which means they presumably, in fact, “tasted death” before seeing the Son of Man come into his kingdom, as Jesus predicted.

But I wonder if, just like Peter, I’ve missed the point all these years. I’ve looked at those words and that promise and Jesus’ prediction with the wrong set of eyes; from the wrong kind of perspective.

Because what if it wasn’t that end-times, apocalyptic, second-coming Jesus was talking about? What if every one of those disciples really did see the Son of Man “coming into his kingdom” when they witnessed and participated in all the things Jesus had JUST predicted and JUST promised them would happen, in the verses just beforehand – namely, that great suffering, that dying and that resurrection on the third day?

What I mean is, the Son of Man “came into his kingdom” when he made his way to Jerusalem. The Son of Man “came into his kingdom” when he was handed over to the chief priests, the elders, and the scribes. The Son of Man “came into his kingdom” while he was crucified, as he suffered, and the moment he took his last breath on the cross. And of course, the Son of Man “came into his kingdom” when he was raised on the third day.

And every one of them saw it. We’ve all heard about it. They and we just can’t seem to wrap our heads – still – around a kingdom that’s humble; a kingdom that hurts sometimes; a kingdom that’s hard more often than we’d like; and a kingdom that is hopeful in spite of so many reasons not to be.

In other words, we are so much like Simon Peter who has so much to teach us through his relationship with Jesus, about our own relationship with Jesus. Whether he’s walking on water and then sinking; whether he’s refusing to wash Jesus’ feet, before submitting to the role of that kind of servanthood; or whether he’s trying to keep Jesus from being arrested in the garden of Gethsemane, Peter is us – and we are Peter: struggling with faith, neglecting opportunities to serve humbly, placing roadblocks in the way of God’s grace. We think too often with our heads about what God is calling us toward, rather than seeing with the eyes of our hearts – as that song sings – sensing what God is already up to in our midst.

But God is already and always up to something in our midst. And haven’t we seen some measure of that in Houston over the course of the last week – heavenly things, I mean, in the face of so many earthly obstacles and limitations? As horrible as Hurricane Harvey was; as much loss as we can count there, in terms of lives and real estate and things; and as much devastation as has befallen that part of our country – the kingdom has come among us in that place.

Every story about the “Cajun Navy” – and every example of average Joe’s and trained professionals – showing up to rescue those in need, is a story of the kingdom coming among us.

Every church that opens its doors or sends its people or collects supplies, is a story of the kingdom alive and well in our midst.

Every penny that gets sent for the good of the cause, with no strings attached, is the kingdom of God coming for the sake of the world.

Every black man carrying a white child, every white man carrying a brown child, every boat weighed down – like so many miniature arks, if you will – weighed down with men, women, children and animals of every size, shape, age and color is a picture of God’s kingdom, come.

I especially liked the video I saw of three or four African-American teenage boys – wearing black hoodies, even – who helped steer the floating car of a little old white lady to safety.

All of it is the kingdom of God breaking into the world as we know it. And it’s kind of amusing to me that it comes as a surprise to people, still.

People have a habit of behaving differently in the face of tragedy like we’ve seen in Houston this week; or in Louisiana, after Hurricane Katrina; or in New York, on September 11th; or when a loved-one gets sick; or when a neighbor loses his job; or whatever. When the you-know-what hits the fan, the grace of God moves in and for and through people who are created in the image of that same God, remember.

Walls come down, and they should. Politics cease to matter, and they shouldn’t. Help is asked for, help offered, help is received without question, without boundary, without limit – and it all happens from those who can, and for those who need it most. In the midst of great tragedy and suffering and struggle, the kingdom comes among us more fully and more often than not, it seems to me, by the grace of God.

And what must be so frustrating to our creator – like it must have been for Jesus – is that it takes some measure of tragedy and suffering and struggle for us to get it; to do it; to receive it; to celebrate it; to see it, even, this kingdom in our midst. And that we struggle or neglect to allow that kind of kingdom living to thrive among us even when life is good and things are well.

What I think Jesus is trying to show his disciples – and what we’re supposed to have caught onto by now – what we’re still learning as followers of Christ – is that we shouldn’t wait for tragedy to strike – or to strike close to home – before we allow ourselves to live in all the ways God invites us to live in this world. (You all realize that in addition to Houston, over 1,200 people have died thanks to a monsoon in India over the course of the last week, too, right?)

What I think living with faith is about is learning to listen and to see and to live with our hearts, more than with our heads – where we see a bigger picture.  When we get our heads out of the way – our scope is broadened.  When we set our minds, daily, on divine things like resurrection and forgiveness and new life and the power of grace – the stuff of the world falls away and we live differently because of it.

And the kingdom comes among us… And the kingdom comes because of us… And the kingdom comes through us… The kingdom comes – here and now – and for the sake of the world, in the name of Jesus who was, who is, and who is to come.

Amen

"So Much Better Than That" – Matthew 15:21-28

Matthew 15:21-28

Jesus left that place and went away to the district of Tyre and Sidon. Just then a Canaanite woman from that region came out and started shouting, “Have mercy on me, Lord, Son of David; my daughter is tormented by a demon.” But he did not answer her at all. And his disciples came and urged him, saying, “Send her away, for she keeps shouting after us.” He answered, “I was sent only to the lost sheep of the house of Israel.” But she came and knelt before him, saying, “Lord, help me.” He answered, “It is not fair to take the children’s food and throw it to the dogs.” She said, “Yes, Lord, yet even the dogs eat the crumbs that fall from their masters’ table.” Then Jesus answered her, “Woman, great is your faith! Let it be done for you as you wish.” And her daughter was healed instantly.

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So, Jesus and the disciples are cruising along just fine. They’re spreading the Word, their working miracles, their feeding, healing and teaching. I’m sure they’re still talking about that time Peter walked on water, which we heard about last week, even if it was just for a moment. 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, she wasn’t part of his base. People like her weren’t on his list of priorities. Even though they were in her neck of the woods – the region of Tyre and Sidon – Jesus and the disciples didn’t want anything to do with her.

“Send her away,” the disciples say, “she keeps shouting after us.” “Let’s lose this lady before she makes a scene.” And Jesus tries to brush her off by explaining her away. “I was sent only to the lost sheep of the house of Israel.” “I’m only here for the Jews. Not for Gentiles. Not for Canaanites. Not for you.”

But she doesn’t give up. She keeps after him. Nevertheless, she persisted, like any good mother would, if she really wanted help for her sick child. Kneeling before Jesus, utterly humbling herself, 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, consider what he says next. “It’s not fair to take the children’s food and throw it to the dogs.” Yes. It’s as bad as it sounds. What he’s saying is that the good news and blessings he has to share aren’t for her. And not only that, but he compares her to a dog; a dog – unworthy of receiving anything he has to offer.

This is hard to hear for some of us, I know. Either he means it, which can’t be good. Or he’s messing with her to test the fortitude of her faithfulness, which isn’t great, either. So this side of Jesus is not the stuff of Sunday school coloring pages and I understand that – so bear with me for a minute. To not see this side of the story is to miss something big.

What we get a glimpse of here – for my money anyway – is one of the greatest examples of Jesus’ humanity. Even Jesus had put up barriers. Even Jesus had erected boundaries. Even Jesus, it seems, had been influenced by the world he was living in – a world that said there were insiders and outsiders; a world that said some people were more worthy than others; a world that said some belong and some don’t, some are to be forgiven and some never will be, some are loved and some simply aren’t.

It’s not a picture of Jesus we like to consider. 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 that we’re used to. And if this is true for Jesus – shouldn’t every single one of us imagine… wonder… consider deeply – that it might also be true of us in more ways than we are always able to recognize or willing to admit?

And hard as it may be to see in Jesus or to acknowledge about ourselves, we must, especially these days in this country, because I believe what happens next for Jesus, is the point in all of this.

What happens when Jesus encounters this nameless Canaanite woman is that he learns something about her, about himself, and about the scope of ministry. This annoying, persistent, foreign, desperate woman – searching for her daughter’s cure – pushed Jesus and his ministry to a new level. What she showed Jesus and what she is now showing us is that we can open our minds and open our hearts and open our arms. We learn from Jesus that his ministry – and ours – is to be without boundary. It is for the outsider and the otherwise unworthy. It is for those who some would say are unforgivable. And it is for those who some find it impossible to love.

For me, the Good News in this morning’s Gospel is found in the humanity we’re allowed to see in Jesus. The even better Good News in this morning’s Gospel is that Jesus, in spite of his humanity, makes a change. And the best news of all in this morning’s Gospel is that it’s an invitation to see that change in ourselves.

I read a story this week about a neo-Nazi, white supremacist, skinhead who has changed his mind and changed his heart and changed his ways. In some small way he credits the words of a woman kind of like the one Jesus encountered in the region of Tyre and Sidon. This guy was in a McDonald’s, somewhere in Canada, I think, but...

Anyway, he was ordering his cheeseburger or his chicken McNuggets or his McCafe cappuccino, or whatever Canadian skinheads eat at McDonald’s, when the elderly African-American woman taking his order noticed the swastika tattooed on his hand. And instead of dropping his Big Mac or spilling his drink or sneezing on his French fries – all appropriate responses, one might think – this little old lady of color looked him in the eye and said, “Oh honey, you’re so much better than that.”

“Oh honey, you’re so much better than that.”

The seed of those gracious words took root and some time, but eventually – along with some therapy and some changing life-circumstances, this neo-Nazi started to believe them. And he started to believe that people like the woman who said them were better than he had believed her to be, too. And now he’s founded a non-profit organization called, “Life after Hate,” and he has dedicated himself to helping people leave neo-Nazi and other extremist hate groups.

“Oh honey, you’re so much better than that.”

As far as I know there aren’t any neo-Nazi’s in the room, and I’m not suggesting Jesus played that role in this story. But, just because we don’t carry torches or have hooded sheets hanging in our closets or swastikas tattooed on our bodies, doesn’t mean we aren’t influenced – just like Jesus seems to have been – by the world and the culture and the systems that surround us. And it can be easy for us to dismiss or deny or just not see the sin of racism and bigotry in our midst and even in ourselves. Again, I say, if Jesus himself had a thing or two to learn about it, shouldn’t each of us at least imagine… at least wonder… at least consider that it might also be true of us in ways we can’t always identify?

But we are so much better than that.

Jesus, as a man of the world, was influenced by the world’s standards and systems and low expectations. Jesus, as a child of God, though, was transformed, changed his mind and offered salvation generously in spite of what the world would say. So the question becomes: How will we – as people of the world and as children of God – respond to the needs that are kneeling before us and begging for help these days in our country where race is concerned?

I think we’re being called to engage those who don’t look or live or believe like we do. And I think that means more than being nice to the people of color we work with and live near or sit by in class – though all of that is a great place to start. I think we’re being called to the districts of Tyre and Sidon, if you will, away from what we know; away from where we feel safe; away from what is comfortable and into the places where people like that Canaanite woman are hurting in ways we can’t possibly understand, because our paths simply haven’t crossed.

(Just so you know – and in the interest of putting my money where my mouth is; of practicing what I preach – I’m working right now to set up some ministry at the prison in Plainfield. And I’m in conversation with an inner-city school about getting involved in some tutoring and mentoring programs there. If you’re interested in joining me for any of that, please let me know.)

Because as followers of Jesus, we are called to more and better and different – and Jesus shows us that we can be changed when we do. Jesus shows us that we can be transformed. Jesus shows us that we can open our hearts and our minds and our lives by drawing close to those from whom the world would keep us separate. And Jesus shows us that we are so much better than that and that God’s grace can work change for us, change through us, and change within us for the sake of the world.

Amen