Oh LORD, our God,
Your Word is a lamp to our
feet and a light to our path.
Give us grace to receive
your truth in faith and love,
That we might be obedient
to your will
And live always for your
glory;
Through Jesus Christ our
LORD, Amen.
Sermon text: Matthew 15: 21-28
Well, talk about an uncomfortable Bible story. Lord
knows there are plenty of them to go around. The thing about those
uncomfortable Bible stories is that they don’t tend to make it into the
Lectionary. This must be an exception.
Last
Sunday, my best friend and I drove to Dallas, to attend the ordination service
of another good friend of ours from seminary. The Rev. Brent Barry, of
NorthPark Presbyterian Church in Dallas, preached at her service. Oddly, his
sermon was based on today’s text, a
whole week ahead of schedule. While he went in a different direction with his
reflection on the occasion of ordination and ministry, something that he said
has remained with me. All week. The person, who emerged from the crowd, who was
bold enough to fall at the feet of Jesus and cry for help, was all wrong: she
was the wrong gender, the wrong race, the wrong ethnicity, ostensibly part of
the wrong faith group. She was a Canaanite woman. A Gentile. In the Gospel of
Mark, we know her as the Syrophoenician woman. Jesus was a man, not to mention
an observant Jew. In first century Palestine, these folk didn’t mix. And yet.
Matthew tells us, this woman emerged from the crowd and started shouting at
him! Pastor Mark Davis translates this verb from the Greek as “squawking.”
Throughout his Gospel, Matthew connects this verb with the blind, the demons,
the disciples caught on the boat in the storm, Peter sinking into the sea, and
much later, with the crowds calling for Jesus’ execution. It’s even used to
describe Jesus as he takes his last breathe on the cross. While the word sounds comical to our 21st
century ears, it is a cry of desperation.
And
Jesus. He is cranky with her. More
than cranky – he is outright rude. Biblical commentators offer a variety of
reasons to explain away Jesus’ harsh response in this text. Some say he was
testing this woman’s faith. Other’s say he’s offering a teaching lesson to the
disciples in the form of “what not to do” when you encounter a foreigner.
Still, others point to Jesus’ humanity. This is how I see it.
In
451 AD, the early church fathers gathered for what later became known as the
Council of Chalcedon. Now, these councils were like glorified Presbytery
meetings. Except, they lasted for several weeks. And there was likely no free
coffee. In the end, someone was usually declared a heretic. At this particular
meeting, the church leaders gathered to debate and discuss many issues, the end
results were published as church cannon, or law. One of the more famous issues
deliberated, discussed, and decided on during the Council of Chalcedon, was the
nature of Christ. Was he human? Was he divine? How could he be both? Is he? In
the end, they decided that Christ is
the fully human, fully divine Son of God. It’s what we continue to believe abut
Jesus today in the Reformed
Tradition.
If
ever there were an argument for the humanity of Jesus, this passage is it.
Matthew’s story causes dissonance with our understanding of who Jesus is: King
of Kings, Prince of Peace, Son of God. He’s the nice guy, who loves everyone.
Here, we see something very different. It makes me a bit squeamish. Context
helps a little. In the beginning of the 14th chapter of Matthew, a
lot happens, in very quick succession. John the Baptist, who was Jesus’ cousin,
good friend, and the man who baptized Jesus, was beheaded at the hands of
Herod, as entertainment for Herod’s guests. Scripture tells us, not long after,
the disciples break this news to Jesus. Then, Jesus withdrew, ostensibly to
pray and to grieve. But, the crowds followed him. The feeding of the 5,000
happens. Jesus departs on a boat with the disciples. Jesus is under the boat,
trying to rest and pray. A storm brews. They panic. Jesus walks on water. Jesus
heals many. Then, he beings teaching the crowds again. And scene. A lot has
happened in very little time. Talk about no room to breathe. Jesus is like that
Solo Pastor, who probably should have an Associate Pastor to help him out, but
the church really can’t afford one; and he’s just done two funerals, a wedding,
and three hospital visits on the heels of a Holy Week that would not end. He
was tired. And trying to grieve his friend. But he hasn’t had the space to
grieve yet. And then here was this woman. From the wrong side of the tracks.
Squawking at him about her sick daughter. He was on the inside. She was on the
outside. He acted accordingly.
This
is an uncomfortable text. It’s been an uncomfortable week. It seems we
increasingly live in a world of boundaries that determine who is in and who is
out. It’s completely heart-breaking. This reality becomes more and more
apparent with every passing day. And I don’t know about you, but after the past
couple of weeks, I am weary. I am weary at the increasingly urgent and
depressing global events plastered across my television set and computer
screen. No one I love has died recently, but I’m starting to understand where
Jesus was coming from when we meet him in this last half of Matthew 15. There’s
the ISIS persecution of Yadizis in Iraq. The conflict in Israel and Gaza has been
heating up in recent weeks, with an increasing number of causalities. And this
week, the tragic events in Ferguson, MO, which have been like the spark
igniting a forest fire of race relations in this country. And rightly so. This
story sounds a little bit too much like Trayvon Martin and Jordan Davis, not to
mention countless others. On Saturday, August 9th, a police officer
in Ferguson, MO fired his weapon multiple times and killed Michael Brown, an
unarmed black teenager, who was walking down the street. The details of the
situation are murky at best. Regardless, he did not deserve to die. The
aftermath has been unlike anything I have seen in this country in my adult
life. Twitter has exploded. The 24 hours news channels are in overdrive. It
doesn’t look like it will stop for some time. Frankly, it reminds me a little
bit too much of Arab Spring, which began in Tunisia in 2010 and quickly spread
to much of the Middle East the following year. Twitter exploded. The 24 news
cycle went into overdrive. It didn’t stop.
Our
text today is a text of boundaries. Michael Brown’s story is a story of
boundaries. Some are in and some are out. This isn’t the 1960s anymore, and we
are not in Birmingham, but unfortunately the story remains the same. The photos
remain the same. The news coverage remains the same. Now, I’m aware, that
there’s a history of racial tensions that runs deep between the police
department and the people in Ferguson, MO. This dynamic is by no means limited
to this small community outside of St. Louis. But still – as I reflected on the
text for this week, I couldn’t help but think: Michael Brown was the wrong
race. Like so many who have gone before him, both named and unnamed. And he was
in the wrong place, at the wrong time. And it cost him his life. Despite what
his mama probably taught him about how to act if stopped by the police. It cost
him his life.
The
Canaanite woman was the wrong race. She was the wrong gender. She was in the
wrong place at the wrong time. Jesus needed some space. No, he needed a
sabbatical. And yet. There she was. Squawking at him.
“Have mercy on me, Son of David; my daughter
is tormented by a demon!” Jesus, in his human frailty, proceeded to talk
with the disciples about her, like she wasn’t even there. “I was sent only to the lost sheep of the House of Israel.”
She threw herself before him, “LORD, help me!”
He
is harsh with her. “It is not FAIR to
take the children’s food and throw it to the dogs.” She is familiar with the reality of her
situation. She speaks this reality to him, unwaveringly. “Yes,
LORD. Yet, even the DOGS eat the crumbs that fall from their masters’ table.”
Whoosh. I imagine her words took the breath right
out of him. He announces, “Woman, great
is your faith! Let it be done for you as you wish.” The text tells us her
daughter was healed INSTANTLY.
This
is a healing story, but it is unlike so many we find in any of the Gospels.
This is an uncomfortable story. It’s one where Jesus is portrayed in a way that
causes tension. Tension between who we believe him to be and how he’s seen
here. We don’t want to locate ourselves within this story, because it’s too
difficult. There’s a teaching moment here, but it’s Jesus who is getting the
lesson. Jesus believed his mission was to reach out only to the House of
Israel, as seen here, and in earlier parts of Matthew’s Gospel. God used this
woman to show him something more. To show him grace.
I
was once told that grace is a movement from narrowness to wideness. That’s what
we see here. The Canaanite woman responds to Jesus’ harsh words. But she speaks
to the awful truth of her reality. In doing so, she hopes for something more. In doing so, she wakes Jesus up. She yanks him out of his complacency. She shows him
a glimmer of something more. A larger, more beautiful purpose to which she is
called. It is a mission of wideness and grace, instead of narrowness and
exclusion. When Jesus sees her faith and heals her daughter, he breaks open the
circle of pain and exclusion so that it is no more. “I come that they may have life and have it abundantly!” the Gospel
of John tells us.
In
the Gospel of Matthew, prior to this encounter with the Canaanite woman, Jesus
has mentioned “The House of Israel” on several occasions as a means of
exclusion and narrowness. After this encounter, our red letter text tells us he
does not utter this terminology again. Instead, Jesus begins to talk about the
Kingdom of God. He describes it in so many beautiful and powerful ways. We
can’t help but long for it. There IS no wrong race in the kingdom of God.
Our
country is on the brink of being torn in half because of bipartisan politics,
conflicting ideologies, and now, more than ever, mounting racial tensions
following Michael Brown’s death. People are fed up. Fear is mounting. We are weary.
As Christians, God calls us to something more. We need a movement from
narrowness to wideness. From fear to grace and love. We need to break the
circle of exclusion. There is no wrong race in the Kingdom of God. There is no
in and there is no out. In this text, and the many that follow, Jesus invites
us into the Kingdom of God. The Canaanite woman’s faith and love for her
daughter, healed her daughter, by the grace of God.
In
May, I met the Rev. Becca Stevens. She is an Episcopal priest and the founder of
Thistle Farms, a social enterprise based in Nashville. Thistle Farms helps
women, who are survivors of trafficking, addiction, and abuse, get back on
their feet through a free, two year program, that includes safe and stable
housing, comprehensive medical care, and job training. The women make, market,
and sell soaps, lotions, candles, and more that are as good for the earth as
they are our bodies. Becca always says, “Love is the most powerful force in the
world for social change.” Appropriately, the Thistle Farms’ slogan is “Love
Heals.” The Canaanite woman’s love and faith caused Jesus to heal her daughter.
I believe that our love for all of humanity and our faith in a God who knows no
boundaries, can break the circle of exclusion that exists in our world. It can
begin the healing we so desperately need. Even though Ferguson, MO is hundreds
of miles away, the people there, who are experiencing unfathomable pain, anger,
sadness, and grief, are our neighbors. Michael Brown was our neighbor. Let us
not only hold them up in persistent prayer before God, but let us cast aside
all fear and judgment, and instead love them from hundreds of miles away, even
though we are weary, and we are tired. Let us love those in our communities
just the same. Let us listen to their stories. Let us meet them where they are.
It’s not all we should do, but it’s a start. It is what our God of grace calls
us to do, in these most tense and uncomfortable of moments in our recent
history. Maybe then, we will start to see our world change. Maybe then, we will
seek Christ, who beckons us to follow him into the kingdom of God.
Amen.
