Full text from a sermon preached on August 17, 2014 at First Presbyterian Church in Killeen, TX Text: 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. In the Kingdom of God 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 emerges from the crowd, bold enough to fall at the feet of Jesus and cry for help, is all wrong: she is the wrong gender, the wrong race, the wrong ethnicity, ostensibly part of the wrong faith group. She is a Canaanite woman. A Gentile. In the Gospel of Mark, we know her as the Syrophoenician woman. Jesus is a man, not to mention a Jew. In first century Palestine, these folk didn t mix. And yet. Matthew tells us, this woman emerges from the crowd and starts 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 21 st 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. Others say he s offering a teaching lesson to the disciples. A sort 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 canons 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? Was he? In the end, they decided that Christ is the fully human, fully divine Son of God. It s what we, in the Reformed Tradition, continue to believe about Jesus today. 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; he loves everyone. Here, we see something very different. It makes me a bit squeamish. Context helps a little. In the beginning of the 14 th chapter of Matthew, a lot happens in very quick succession. John the Baptist, who was Jesus cousin, good friend, and the one who baptized Jesus, was beheaded at the hands of Herod, as entertainment for party guests. Scripture tells us, not long after, the disciples break this news to Jesus. Then, Jesus withdrew, ostensibly to pray and 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. 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 the 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 is 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 Travon Martin and Jordan Davis, and so many countless others. On Saturday, August 9 th, 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, a movement that 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 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 ever 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. Of European vacation proportions, with beaches and Taize prayer services included. 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, proceeds to talk with the disciples about her, like she isn t even there. I was sent only to the lost sheep of the House of Israel. She throws 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. Unwaveringly, she speaks this reality to him. 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 is 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 we see him 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 he 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, he 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 out. In this text, and the many the follow, Jesus invites us into the Kingdom of God. The Canaanite woman s love for her daughter and her faith, healed her daughter, by the grace of God. In May, I met the Reverend 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, 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 to 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 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.