Carol Seaman, a Presbyterian minister in New York City, realized she was in need of a break. She needed a break from the rigors of her ministry and she needed a break from the hectic pace of city life. So she got away; a long way away. She went clear to Jackson Hole, Wyoming, where she rented a cabin with a scenic view of the mountains. Intent on being absolutely alone for several days, she settled down in front of a fireplace with a stack of books and a bag of whole bean Starbucks coffee. Her plan was to be free of all pastoral functions and to use this time by herself to be refreshed and renewed.
The plan went precisely as she had hoped the first three days. Then, on day four, she ventured out to the Teton Music Festival. It wasn't long before she found herself engaged in conversation with a stranger. A scientist began talking to her and once he discovered that she was a pastor, he spent the next several hours discussing the painful events in his life and his superficial relationship with God.
Initially, she was hesitant to be drawn into the conversation. She wanted to cut it off and return to her quiet cabin. The encounter had interrupted her plan for anonymity and no pastoral duties. But gradually she overcame her desire to run and she began to listen intently as he spilled out his troubles. By the end of the conversation, she had helped him resolve some of his problems and design a strategy for tackling some of his ongoing issues. She realized that although it had not been what she had planned, the encounter had proven rewarding to both of them and had expanded her understanding of her own ministry.(1)
Her experience is in some ways similar to what happened to Jesus in this morning's passage from the Gospel of Matthew. He has left his familiar region and traveled to foreign territory where he encounters a stranger. The encounter prompts a change in his plans and causes him to expand the boundaries of his ministry.
In biblical times, Jews and Canaanites had a great deal of animosity for one another. You remember that it was the Canaanites who initially occupied the land where the Jews settled. The Hebrews had driven them off the land and considered them inferior people. It was not uncommon for a Jew to completely ignore a Canaanite.
Still, with the image of Jesus painted in the New Testament, we can't help but wonder why he is so harsh and offensive with this Canaanite woman. Our passage informs us that the woman, approaches Jesus and says, "Have mercy on me, Lord, Son of David; my daughter is tormented by a demon." If you are familiar with the gospels, you know that her request sounds very similar to many others. There are numerous stories in the gospels where people ask Jesus for help and he responds to their pleas. Blind men ask for their sight and he opens their eyes. Lepers ask to be healed and he cleanses them. He heals people so that they are able to walk again and speak again and to be cured of mental illness. So how does Jesus respond when this Canaanite, this Gentile woman asks him to heal her daughter? The passage states, "He did not answer her at all." As followers of Christ, that makes us a bit uncomfortable. Either Jesus is being very rude and ignoring her, or he is uncertain how to respond. We don't care too much for either of those possibilities. Isn't Jesus always compassionate, merciful, willing to help those in need? Then why does he fail to respond to the Canaanite woman? One might argue that because he had been raised in an environment where Canaanites were despised, it would be logical for him to be prejudiced. But it seems to me that the flow of the passage suggests that rudeness is not the issue. Rather, Jesus seems to undergo a change in his thinking. His encounter with this woman prompts him to reconsider the parameters of his ministry, and he expands the boundaries to include Gentiles.
After the woman asks for his help, Jesus does not respond. The passage then tells us that the disciples approach Jesus and urge him to send her away. But instead of doing that, Jesus states what seems to be on his mind. He presents his understanding of his ministry. He says, "I was sent only to the lost sheep of the house of Israel." In other words, "I'm not going to help you because you are a Gentile and my ministry is for the Jews."
Those words would have detoured many people, but not this woman. She comes up to Jesus and kneels at his feet and pleads with him. She says, "Lord, help me."
We could all feel a lot better about this passage if Jesus would now say, "Alright. I will help you." But he doesn't. In fact, what he says to the woman is so insulting, that we might prefer him to respond again with silence instead. He says, "It is not fair to take the children's food and throw it to the dogs." In other words, he refers to Jews as God's children, and he refers to Gentiles as dogs.
Fortunately, we have here a very savvy and persistent woman. Rather than stomping off in a huff hoping to preserve her dignity, she has a quick and very humble reply. She says, "Yes, Lord, yet even the dogs eat the crumbs that fall from their masters' table."
There is something about her persistence and her refusal to allow him to travel on that wins Jesus over. He expands his ministry beyond his own people, as he says, "Woman, great is your faith!" And her daughter is healed.
When the story begins, we see an unsightly picture of people divided by ethnic distinctions. But when the story ends, we find that the situation has been transformed. Jesus is changed. He understands his calling in a new light. He is called not only to the lost sheep of Israel, but the whole world. His boundaries are eliminated and we see the inclusive love of God which breaks down divisions. This story serves as a preliminary sign of what is coming at the end of Matthew's gospel. In the final verses of his account, following the resurrection, Jesus commissions his followers to go into the world and make disciples of all people.
Today's passage says a lot about Jesus, but it also says a lot about us. It prompts us to consider our own personal attitude toward those who are different than we are. It prompts us to consider the boundaries we have created and the divisions we perpetuate.
This past week, a man walked into a Jewish community center in Los Angeles and opened fire. He also killed a postal worker because he was "non white." Mental illness is apparently a factor in the man's actions, but his paranoia was fed by a white supremacist group whose ideology holds that Jews are inferior and are the cause of many of the world's problems. Such teachings are repugnant and none of us would fall prey to such blatant lies, but can we honestly say that we have done very much to heal the divisions between Christians and Jews?
In Kosovo, the ethnic Albanians were driven from their homes and killed by the Serbs. Now that the United Nations has helped the survivors of the ethnic cleansing return, there are daily acts of revenge and it is the Serbs who now fear for their lives. In Ireland, the temporary peace is deteriorating between the Catholics and Protestants. Tensions are mounting between India and Pakistan. In our own country, blacks and American Indians have been vilified for most of our 300 year history. Today, gays and lesbians are prime targets for hostilities.
Perhaps we have been taught all of our lives to look down on certain people. Most everyone has grown up with certain prejudices. What sort of boundaries have we created? What unhealthy divisions do we perpetuate? God wants us to widen our circle of concern so that we can respond to others not with hate or fear or indifference, but with love and respect and compassion.
At first, it seems a little unnerving to imagine that Jesus had initially perceived the boundaries of his ministry so narrowly - including only Jews, excluding Gentiles. And it's bothersome that it was not until he encountered someone very different from himself that he perceived that God's love was to be shared with those well beyond the boundaries he had first drawn. But if this story is for us, the followers of Christ, then perhaps it is precisely the sort of story we need. For if Jesus had to reconsider the boundaries of his love, then how could we dare not do the same?
ENDNOTES
1. From a sermon by Carol Seaman entitled, Which Is More Important? preached at Madison Avenue Presbyterian Church in New York City in August, 1996.
© 1999 Gregory Knox Jones, all rights reserved