Sunday, August 17, 2014

Sermon for August 17 at Emmanuel, Mercer Island

During the last several Sundays we have heard in the Gospel lessons from Matthew
            either parables of Jesus
            or Jesus, through his actions, being himself a living parable.

And here in the second half of the Gospel reading for today
is another story guaranteed to disturb our sensibilities,
            something we wouldn’t expect from Jesus – another parable.

We have to pay attention to the story and examine it more closely,
            because on the first hearing what we notice
                        can be jarring and perplexing.

Jesus and the disciples are in the neighboring foreign country.
A woman, native to there, comes and shouts at Jesus for help.
He ignores her!
Then he claims that the scope of his mission doesn’t include her.
Then essentially he calls her a dog.
And this is Jesus we’re talking about?!
And amazingly this woman still persists and finally gets her request.

This story has caused a lot of reactivity in people listening to it.

Some point to perceived racial prejudice and ethnic exclusiveness,
            and decide that this is a story about Jesus
coming to an expanding sense of the scope of his ministry.
But why then don’t we see this story followed by other stories
of Jesus preaching to multitudes in other foreign countries?

Some say that Jesus was testing the faith of this woman.
If so, then why such a challenging test for this particular person,
and not all the many others coming to him for healing
or bringing their family members to him for healing?

The thing is that in both cases we tend to read into the text
            what makes sense to us, how we might think about the situation.

But the Gospels are all very compact, intense pieces of writing.
They all use an economy of words to convey as much as possible
            who Jesus is, what he did, and
      most importantly – its spiritual significance.
There is always something going on in terms of a spiritual process
            in each chapter, each story, each passage.

So I don’t think the Gospel writer would have used this story for today
            for any other purpose than to convey an important spiritual lesson
                        that Jesus was trying to teach through his actions and words.

So let’s look at this story again,
accepting the fact that it has some points of absurdity in it,
things that don’t add up for our value systems,
for our conceptions of how Jesus ought to behave
or what would have been a better way
for Jesus to relate to this woman.

Jesus and his disciples were “on vacation,” we could say.
            They had crossed the border
and were away from the crowds for a short time.  They needed a break.

But here is a native of this country, a local, who knows about Jesus.
She calls out to him to get his attention,
            and addresses him by the title, Son of David,
a Jewish title, a title known to be Messianic,
            indicating that she has some knowledge of the Jews and their hopes,
                        and the speculation by many that Jesus might be the Messiah,
                                    the political and military leader
who could deliver them from Roman oppression.

But Jesus doesn’t respond to that title.
            He is not that kind of Messiah, not for the Jews or for anyone.
He persistently told people not to call him that,
            because of all the baggage attached to it.
It was too limiting for what Jesus was about in terms of salvation.

Yet the woman is appealing for mercy,
            and for deliverance and healing for her daughter.

The disciples must have been perplexed.
They knew Jesus as one with immense compassion,
            who healed all that were brought to him, including Gentiles,
                        such as the Centurion’s servant
                        and the Gadarene demoniacs,
            which appear in earlier chapters in this same Gospel.
So now Jesus has scruples about healing this one Gentile?
            His silence is uncharacteristic.

Driven to distraction by her yelling, they say to Jesus,
            “Send her away,” meaning, “Give her what she wants. 
We know she won’t let up until you do.”

And then, notice this, Jesus addresses the disciples,
            “I was not sent except to the lost sheep of the House of Israel.”
The disciples would have agreed that this was the case,
            if their perception of Jesus was only that he was the Son of David,
                        the Messiah, in that political, military sense,
                        which is a very nationalistic view.
If he was Son of David,
            then any outside of that ethnic relationship
            were not included in the benefits of his reign.

But now the woman has come and prostrated herself at the feet of Jesus,
            that profound bow with head to the ground,
            the expression of surrender and gesture of mortal trust.
And now she says simply, “Lord, help me.”

The dialog shifts and is now between Jesus and the woman – face to face.

“It is not good to take the bread of the children and toss it to the little dogs.”
“Yes, Lord, for even these house dogs eat from the scraps
falling from their owners’ table.”
What urgency of necessity and grace of humility this woman must have had,
and also what sly understanding!

Did she catch on to the fact that this whole drama was not about her

but for the sake of the disciples
and the need to expand their compassion and sense of mission?

And Jesus said to her, “O woman, great is your faith.”

Dogs get fed unintentionally when scraps fall from the table.
Having a dog now, I have been observing this first hand.
I even have a cartoon posted outside my office that says,
            “The 5 second rule for food dropped on the floor
            doesn’t work if you have a 2 second dog.”
So dogs are very attentive at mealtime, especially when children are at the table.

The power of Jesus to heal and deliver was so obvious in him,
      that even though he was out of his own setting and supposedly “off duty,”
this healing power was so radiating from him
that it was “falling off the table,”
and the Syro-Phoenician woman could see that,
and was right there to snatch it up.
Essentially the woman was telling Jesus
that his power was already at work.

And we could say that Jesus was saying to her,
            “Son of David you call me, the exclusive Messiah of the House of David.
Are you buying into this idea that I’ve only come to help Israel?”

And this power of Jesus to heal is so overflowing and abundant
                                                and falling off the table,
            that the healing of the woman’s daughter takes place
even from a distance.
She goes home and finds her daughter freed and delivered and whole.

That is salvation; that is how salvation works, how it liberates
                        and expands our awareness and generosity and inclusiveness.

Today we are blessed to have a baptism, little Daniel.

I don’t know if there is a dog in his household,
            but if there is I know right where that pooch will be as Daniel grows –
                        right by the highchair.
Dogs are so handy when there are young children in the house.
            They save a lot in the clean up!

In the sacrament of baptism we are saying that the love and mercy and grace                                     of God is so abundant, so absurdly abundant
            that even babies who have no idea what is happening to them
                        are included in this saving grace.

In this Gospel story today the Syro-Phonecian woman, the gentile,
            recognized the power of Jesus to heal overflowing out of him
            like food spilt and falling off the table.
It was not beneath her dignity to snatch it up,
like the family pet waiting in eager anticipation by a toddler’s highchair.

Are we alert and attentive enough to notice the presence of Jesus around us?
             the power of Jesus to heal, liberate, and transform
that is overflowing in our direction?

It is here – in this place – for all of us.
The meal is prepared and set out on the table, the altar.
And all are invited to come and eat.

I see hands cupped and held out
to carefully catch any crumbs that might be there
along with that little piece of bread.
Receiving the bread is a two-handed affair.

So may our realization of just what it is
we are catching in our hands and raising to our lips
open us, open our hearts
to an expanded awareness of the power and compassion of Jesus

to liberate, heal and transform.