She Mattered

Isaiah 56:1, 6-8; Psalm 67; Romans 11:1-2a, 29-32; Matthew 15:(10-20)21-28

Sometimes in the Lectionary you get two separate stories in on reading, and that’s the case with today’s Gospel.  The first story has to do with a disagreement with the Pharisees. But I’m going to actually skip that section and go straight to what I consider the juicier passage: Jesus’ encounter with a Gentile woman. And since the first story has those square brackets that tell us that including it is optional, I really don’t feel very guilty about that. 

In this second story, Jesus is in “the district of Tyre and Sidon.” This area is northwest of Galilee, near along the coast. A woman runs up to Jesus and the disciples and shouts at them, asking for help. The scripture says her daughter is tormented by a demon. I won’t go into whether it’s really a demon or if there is some psychological problem, but in the long run it really doesn’t matter. The daughter needs help, and the mother is desperate.

Matthew describes the woman as a “Canaanite.” In the parallel passage in Mark, she is a “Syro-Phoenician.” The main point is that she isn’t a Jew. Maybe she was one of those Gentiles known as “God-fearers,” who actively worshiped the God of the Jews but did not take the steps to convert fully to Judaism. We don’t really know. As usual, the gospels are light on detail.

The disciples want to get rid of her, and Jesus seems to go along with them. He seems a bit…testy. He tells her, basically, that she’s a dog and he came strictly for the Jews. I’ve seen commentators who say the Greek word that’s translated “dog” here really means “puppy”. This may be true – I don’t do Greek. But I’m not sure it makes a difference. I feel like the people who make this assertion are assuming that Jews in 1^st-Century Palestine felt the same way about puppies that we do. I think this inserting inserting their own culture into the reading. I mean, we all LOVE puppies, but I haven’t seen evidence that people of the time did. I think it was still an insult. 

And why would Jesus do this? Most commentators I have read say he was testing the woman, but sometimes I think we tend to emphasize Jesus’ godhood at the expense of his humanity. He still had to deal with many of the issues of being human. Maybe he was tired and hungry. Maybe his blood sugar was low. Tyre and Sidon would have been out of his normal territory, so maybe he was hoping for some rest and relaxation, and just didn’t want to have to deal with this kind of thing. On the other hand, maybe he was testing her, or trying to shock her to get her attention. I don’t know. Once again, the evangelist doesn’t say. And I don’t think knowing Jesus’ thoughts is critical to our understanding what is going on. But his words are cruel.

Whatever the reason for Jesus’ barb, the woman doesn’t miss a beat. She bounces right back.

“Even the dogs get to eat what’s left over from the meal.”

“I may not be a Jew,” she says in essence, “but I still matter.”

This woman may not know that she is speaking to the Son of God, but she obviously knows she is speaking to someone with a great deal of power, someone who can cast out demons, and yet she throws his slur right back at him, a mother pleading for her child in the face of a powerful man who has dismissed her as not worthy of his attention.

And Jesus…relents. He grants her request.

He tells her that her refusal to be marginalized by his cruel words has saved her daughter. 

The woman refuses to accept Jesus’ apparent dismissal, and her daughter is healed.

Jesus relented. How often do we relent after we dismiss those in need?

I mean, we really don’t like to help “those people.” Oh, we may dress our attitude up in righteousness. Those people don’t need our help, we tell ourselves. Not really. They could help themselves. There are others who need help, too. We’ll go help them first. Strangely, we never seem to help them either.

Even worse, we think “Those people don’t deserve our help.”

You see it’s easy to dehumanize people that aren’t like us. When a Jew referred to a Gentile as a dog, he was in effect saying, “You’re not even human.” And when someone isn’t human, you can treat them like an animal. Civilizations throughout time have done it. There are ancient records of people referring to those outside the pale of their civilization as “beasts.” There is always a group we can call “those people.”

For the Greeks and Romans, it was the “barbarians.”

For Second Temple Jews, it was the Gentiles. And the Samaritans.

Later, for many Gentile Christians, it became the Jews. In the Epistle reading for today Paul is writing specifically to the Gentile Christians in Rome, explaining to them that God has not rejected his chosen people. There’s a good chance that this was written early in the reign of Emperor Nero. The previous emperor, Claudius, had expelled the Jews from Rome, but Nero had begun to allow them to return. So what were the Gentile Christians in Rome to think of the Jews that were returning, most of whom had rejected the idea of Jesus as Messiah? Paul is answering that question.

Paul first proudly claims his own Judaism, then goes on to explain that God doesn’t break covenants. As he says, “God has not rejected his people whom he foreknew. For the gifts and the calling of God are irrevocable.”

So, what is it for us? Who do we consider “those people?” Whose needs do we ignore because they are not like us?

How often do we react to someone’s need by placing them in a group and judging them all together? How often do we look at a person’s color or religion or social class or politics or sexual preference and use that as a basis to decide whether or not we will help them? To decide whether they are WORTHY of our help? How often do we dismiss and marginalize those whose experience is different from ours?

If only they didn’t dress that way.

If only they’d behave the way we think they should.

If only they believed the same things we do.

If only we didn’t disagree with who they loved.

If only they voted the way we think they should.

If only they were more like us.

Then they would be human.

Then we could help them.

The words of Isaiah in today’s Old Testament Reading give the lie to this.

“for my house shall be called a house of prayer for all peoples.“

It is not our job to decide who is worthy to be included in the Kingdom of God.

But of course we do it anyway. People have always done it. Sometimes our attitudes are so automatic that we don’t even realize we’re doing it. Sometimes we have to honestly, painfully examine our motivations to see that we’ve done it.  I’ve done it. I still do it now, though I know I shouldn’t. And when I realize that I’ve treated anyone as less…I’m ashamed. Of course, we don’t like to feel ashamed, so we tend not to examine our motivations too closely, or rationalize our opinions, afraid of what we will find if we think about it too much.

Even Jesus did it. Whatever his motivation, Jesus told this woman, full of need, that she was less than human. That she wasn’t worthy. That she didn’t matter. And when she stood up to him, he rewarded her for it.

If we are being completely honest with ourselves, we all do it. But we can try not to.

In our Baptismal Covenant, we are asked “Will you seek and serve Christ in all persons, loving your neighbor as yourself?”

Will you seek and serve Christ in all persons?

Not just all persons that look like we do.

Not just all persons that dress in a manner we approve.

Not just all person that were born in the same country as we were.

Not just all persons who have the same sexual preference we do.

Not just all persons in the same political party as we are.

Not just all persons that believe the same as we do.

Not just all persons that think like we do.

All persons. Period.

Can we seek and serve Christ in all persons? Can we stop making excuses for ourselves? Can we look past the clothes, the color, the religion, the politics, all the things that make us different…and see the face of Christ? 

Can we?

When we’re asked that question in the Vows, we respond, “I will, with God’s help.” Because we can’t do it, not by ourselves. Only with God’s help can we begin to break through our human desire to segregate, to label people not like us as “other”.

Whenever someone is in need, we can help them, no matter how different the are from us, with God’s help.

With God’s help, we can see Christ in everyone, and serve them as we would serve him.

Amen.