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13 Pentecost
August 14, 2005 Sermon
by Rev. Peggy Tuttle, Interim Rector
Readings
While walking down the street a member of the clergy came upon a group of about a dozen boys, all of them between 10 and 12 years of age.
The group had surrounded a dog. Concerned the boys might be hurting the dog, the priest went over and asked, "What’s up with the dog?"
One of the boys replied, "This dog is just an old neighborhood stray. We all want him, but only one of us can take him home. So we've decided that whichever one of us can tell the biggest lie will get to keep the dog."
The minister was taken aback. "You boys shouldn't be having a contest telling lies!" he exclaimed. He then launched into a 10-minute sermon against lying, beginning, "Don't you boys know it's a sin to lie?" and ending with, "Why, when I was your age, I never told a lie."
There was dead silence for about a minute. Just as the minister was beginning to think he'd gotten through to them, the smallest boy gave a deep sigh and said, "All right, give him the dog."
That joke only relates to today’s gospel lesson because it talks about a dog.
Jesus and his disciples have left Israel. They are on their way to the beach. Their long-awaited getaway to Tyre and Sidon is to take a respite from the crowds and the combative religious leaders in Israel and to take a holiday. Just after they pull the van up to the beachfront campground, and are unraveling the hammock and icing down the beverages, an unnamed woman bursts into their lives to ask for an exorcism for her daughter—and then disappears. Stranger things have happened. And if we stick around for the rest of the story we find that stranger things are yet to come.
But let’s look closer at this story. First, an infidel—from a geographical locale known to be wicked and godless—addresses Jesus with an expression of faith: “Son of David.” How did that happen? Then, Jesus, normally always willing to help anyone who appeals to him in faith, comes across to this demanding woman with uncharacteristic coldness. “He did not answer her at all”; and then he tells her: “It is not fair to take the children’s food and throw it to the dogs.”
Being a parent is a weighty thing. It certainly has its benefits. But along with those benefits come the demands of round the clock caring, seven days a week, week after week, month after month, year after year, from birth into adulthood. Once a child is born into a family, all decisions are made in relation to that child. Shall we move to a larger house? Shall we buy whole milk or skim? Shall we go to your parent’s house or mine for the holidays? What kind of education do we want to offer? Do we like the doctor? The questions go on and on and, hopefully, the answers are based on what we believe to be best for the child.
A few years ago, friends of ours, Ron and Cheryl, discovered that their young son, Taylor, was very ill. He was diagnosed with neuroblastoma. Following the first round of treatments the doctors discovered little progress. Little Taylor needed a bone marrow transplant. This would cost much more than their limited medical insurance would cover so our daughter began a nationwide network among friends to help raise needed funds. With tubes in his belly, looking very small and frail, Ron and Cheryl took him to Disney for his second birthday. They made the most of every minute they had with this precious child.
After a year had passed since the bone marrow transplant, they were hopeful that Taylor would completely recover and live far into adulthood. One night while Ron was bathing Taylor he noticed small tumors all over his back. Their greatest fears were realized. There were no more treatments. There were no more transplants for this little guy. All they could do was stay near him, comfort him and love him to the end.
These parents would have done anything to save their child. How many of us wouldn’t claw our way through a crowd to get to Jesus? Who wouldn’t risk reputation, humiliation, and rejection for a chance to heal their child?
The Canaanite mother displays real nerve. She gets in Jesus’ face, begging him to heal her daughter. There is only one problem: she is one of the “dogs.” It’s a disparaging metaphor, a derogatory term popular at the time for describing all Gentiles. It means she has no business being in the company of a Jew, much less the Messiah. The social gap is cavernous. She is like an illegal alien marching into the Oval Office to see George Bush. She begs Jesus to heal her daughter, but it sounds as if he doesn’t have time for her.
So what are we to glean from this story? It is reinforcement. Reinforcement of the teaching Jesus gives that unlocks the power of the Kingdom to all who use it. It is the power in asking. “Ask, and it will be given you; search, and you will find; knock, and the door will be opened for you. For everyone who asks receives, and everyone who searches finds, and for everyone who knocks, the door will be opened” (Mt. 7:708). Jesus did not say “just the Southern Baptists who ask, or Huguenots who ask, or the ‘born again’ who ask. But “whoever asks of Abba receives ‘good things’” (Mt. 7:11b).
But strangely, it is just this “asking” that we have such trouble with. And not just with the Almighty either. It is asking for respect. Asking for commitment. Asking for time—or for time off. Asking for a contribution, a tithe, a pledge. Asking for a promotion. Asking for a raise. Asking for equal opportunity. Asking for loyalty. Asking for a lower price. Asking for intimacy. Asking God to guide us through this time of search for St. Paul’s.
Why is asking such a problem? Clearly the Canaanite woman represents the kind of person who overcomes inhibitions to asking. She might well be the “patron saint of Askers.”
In any case, the woman does not back down. Dog indeed! She keeps right on nipping at Jesus’ heels, which not only demonstrates her debating skills but also her faith. She dares to take his metaphor and turn it back on him. “Children get fed before the dogs? You’ve got that right, Lord! But even the dogs get to eat the children’s crumbs; even the pets get the scraps that fall from their master’s table!” She is arguing that even on his terms there should be something from him—some scrap of grace—for someone like her who comes to him in faith.
This becomes the day that the gospel of Jesus Christ goes to the dogs. Jesus sees the woman’s heart of faith where the traditions of the elders and the religious law could see only an outcast. He heals her child from long-distance and it is a third-party healing at that. Furthermore, from this point on, Jesus does not hold his saving power in reserve, but expands the circle of God’ mercy to include those once considered outsiders. He “opens himself to the whole world in mission.” He welcomed all who put their faith in him.
The day the gospel went to the dogs was the day it came to us. We are some of the “dogs” who have received the good news of the gospel!
I close with these words from the psalmist, “May God be merciful to us and bless us, show us the light of his countenance and come to us” (Ps. 67:1).
Amen