Pentecost 11 A: The Canaanite Woman’s Lesson
Dear Partner in Preaching,
I find the story of Jesus and the Canaanite woman one of the most painful in Scripture. This year, I also find it one of the most timely.
First, the pain: Jesus treats her, well, abominably. When she begs him for mercy for the sake of her tormented daughter, he ignores her, remaining silent in the face of her pleas. He then seems to give in to the pressure of his disciples urging him to send her away. When she refuses to be ignored and pleas her case once more, he insults her by calling her a dog. It all feels, quite frankly, rather awful and not at all like the Jesus we expect.
Now, I know the traditional interpretation: Jesus isn’t really being mean to her, he’s just testing her by constructing barriers to see if she’ll overcome them. And then, when she passes her test, he gives her an “A” by healing her daughter. Truthfully, as you may guess, I don’t buy it. It runs contrary to pretty much any other story of Jesus in the Gospels. Rather, I think Jesus has a pretty specific focus for his mission and that focus gets enlarged, broadened, and pretty much broken wide open by the faith and audacity and persistence of this woman.
“Yes, Lord. Yet even the dogs eat the crumbs that fall from their masters’ table.” With this painful, even pitiable, yet faithfully persistent plea, the Canaanite woman asks to be seen and heard, recognized as another child of God. And through her person and her plea, she teaches Jesus something about himself and his mission that is crucial for him to learn. I realize that we may feel uncomfortable with the idea of Jesus “learning,” but I can’t think of another term that better captures Jesus’ expanded sense of mission at this point in the Gospel of Matthew, the gospel that ends with the commission to take the good news to the very ends of the earth.
Second, why this matters and is so timely: It’s way, way too easy for us to assume that God is on our side, looks like us, favors our positions, and endorses our views. Call it sinful, call it human, but let’s be honest: it’s really, really easy for us to imagine God is just like us. On one level, that ability to imagine God is like us is absolutely crucial. It is, in a sense, the whole point of the Incarnation – that God became one of us – and therefore allows us to imagine being in relationship with God. The problem is when we imagine God is only like us – as in, not like others.
And just as the Canaanite woman teaches Jesus that God’s mission and vision and compassion and mercy are bigger than what he may have initially imagined, so also might the Canaanite woman teach us the same at a time when synagogues are threatened, mosques are being fire-bombed, and neo-Nazis and white supremacists march the streets: every time you draw a line between who’s in and who’s out, you will find the God made manifest in Jesus on the other side.
But here’s the thing: I think we probably know this. That is, I don’t think the folks in your congregation thinks Jesus is only like us. And I think it’s also unlikely that those to whom you will preach this week believes Jesus looks just like us and isn’t also concerned about those who look different. So what do we do?
I don’t know. That’s hard for me to say, but it’s true. I don’t know, that is, what will be most important and fitting and effective in your context and congregation, and I hesitate to presume to tell you. But I do know that simply knowing that God loves all people is not enough, not when groups march to assert their superiority over other races and ethnicities and too often claim that God backs their views.
I also know that as important as the law is in telling us what we ought to do, it fails to create in us the ability to do it. Which is why I know we also need to proclaim the Gospel clearly and compellingly, the Gospel that in Jesus’ cross and resurrection we discover that God’s love is, in fact, for all; that God is working in us and with us and through us to make this world a more just and equitable place; that God will grant us courage and grace sufficient to meet the challenges of the day; and that when we stand with and for those who suffer or are persecuted, we encounter God in a powerful and palpable way. Because the amazing thing about the Gospel is that, unlike instruction or good advice, it creates in us the ability to do what God would have us do and be the persons God calls us to be.
As I said, I do not know what will be most helpful in your context. Perhaps it’s a sermon opening up this passage as reminding us of the vital, challenging, and ultimately life-giving truth that God loves all people and bids us stand against those who deny human rights and dignity to anyone. Perhaps it’s a prayer on behalf of those who suffer the effects of racism and against those who inflict injustice and bigotry. Perhaps it’s arranging for someone from a different community to speak at an adult forum. Perhaps it’s a litany of repentance and for courage. Perhaps it’s an invitation to a prayer vigil at or for another faith community.
I will say it again: I do not know what will be most helpful in your context, and I respect your ability to prayerfully discern that. What I do know is that knowing what is right without speaking it in some way is not enough. The Canaanite woman’s first plea was met with silence. Imagine what would have happened if she had turned away, discouraged, fearful, or defeated. Would Jesus have sensed God’s larger mission? Would he have said that the forgiveness he offers through the gift of his body and blood is “for all” or just “for some”? Would he have imagined that God loved and sent him to save the whole world, or just part of it. We don’t know. We do know, however, that this woman did not retreat to silence but spoke out, offering a testimony that rings down through the ages: “See me! See me as a person, not as a woman or a Canaanite or a minority or a foreigner or someone from a different religion or as a burden. See me as a person and child of God.”
And he did. The question before us, Dear Partner, is whether we will.
Blessings and courage to you this week and always. And gratitude to you for your work and words, for they, too, are both timely and important.
Yours in Christ,
David
Thank you David for being honest about not knowing. The local context we speak into is so important. I have a baptism this Sunday and need your prayers!
“What I do know is that knowing what is right without speaking it in some way is not enough.” YES!
And this brings me back to the beginning portion of the appointed text, “it is what comes out of the mouth that defiles”. In our speaking out, we still need to be true to the Jesus love ethic – in speaking truth to power, standing with and for the persecuted, we speak with integrity and without evil intention or slander or name calling or calling for violence.
In these very trying times, I admit this has been difficult for me at times. I know it is difficult for some of my people – I have seen what is written on FB and heard them speaking. And we repent, we ask for forgiveness and the strength to continue to speak up and out without defiling ourselves.
Yes! Thank you so much for this. I have always seen it as a pivotal challenge and change to Jesus’ ministry that he was not expecting, too. He was human after all. And wow, how timely. Thank you so much, David.
This reminded me of the “see me” commercial for psoriasis medication. It can be found on youtube. All too often we see people for what we can see is different about them.
Cassandra, I was thinking the same thing as I read Dr. Lose’s emphatic statement: “See me …” Pretending that we don’t see what’s going on around us … and saying nothing … is complicity. I look at this pericope as a pivotal point for Jesus, recognizing the depth of his ministry. To me … the woman is the teacher in this passage – as she perhaps helps Jesus understand or maybe even recall that God’s love is all encompassing and meant for all. This reading is so timely … and also why I love the lectionary.
Put this in the context of the Epistle lesson, and the Genesis story of Joseph being reunited with his brothers, and we have to conclude that God is just as able to work around us as through us. What we say and do reveals who we are (and whom we truly worship) much more than any words of judgment pronounced against another might say about them. Us/them duality left us with a century marked by ways of killing each other more efficiently. But, like the solar eclipse to come on Monday, we still too often put ourselves in the place of a smaller sphere attempting to block the light of God’s grace and love. (Now I’ll have to try to stop thinking about our spiritual mooning of God’s creation and making “donkeys” of ourselves. If I burst out laughing in the middle of my sermon, folks will know I lost that battle.)
Here’s a link to a powerful reflection on Charlottesville by the president of Louisville Seminary — it touches on some of the issues David raises above: http://campaign.r20.constantcontact.com/render?m=1111600141866&ca=c24d890c-28cc-4733-b4be-1a747ea50d5f
What’s going on in Charlottesville and across our country hurts my heart to the point of tears. There is a spirit of blind rage that in a binary way is forcing us into different sides. What is going on in our country is like twisted and tangled spaghetti noodles. One doesn’t know where it ends or where it begins or who is the bad guy. I find myself in the posture of this woman, calling upon our righteous judge who is truth and who can pierce through the cloud of rage and falsehood, and saying, “Lord, Jesus Son of David, have mercy on me and our country, we are afflicted by a false spirit.” And perhaps this should be the posture of the church in this moment? Not spouting opinions, not “thumbs-upping” facebook rants, not thinking we know better, but with broken hearts pleading with Jesus for mercy because deep down in our hearts we are all the problem and the mercy of Jesus is the only answer.
Thank you. As always, you are insightful and a breath of fresh air for this priest. I have preached before about Jesus showing his “fully human” side, but now, more than ever, we must be like the Canaanite woman. In the words of your colleague, Karoline Lewis, we must resist, persist, and be vigilant.
I also believe there is much to leverage in the beginning part of the gospel passage, particularly drawing from the verses that precede it. For those who hold bibles and crosses while spewing hate and terrorizing their brothers and sisters in creation are the very hypocrites he was calling out. We must now call them out too.
Thank you again.
I am reminded of the quote from Bonhoeffer:
Silence in the face of evil, is evil itself: God will not hold us faultless.
Not to speak is to speak. Not to act is to act.
Dismissing what had happened in Charlottesville by saying nothing, is complicity. Calling out wrong, naming it, is who we must be as people of God.
I am by reminded of the quote from Bonhoeffer:
Silence in the face of evil, is evil itself: God will not hold us faultless.
Not to speak is to speak. Not to act is to act.
Dismissing what had happened in Charlottesville by saying nothing, is complicity. Calling out wrong, naming it, is who we must be as people of God.