Giving the Children's Bread to the Dogs
Sermon preached by the Rev. Lowell E. Grisham, Rector
St. Paul's Episcopal Church, Fayetteville, Arkansas
August 14, 2011; Proper 9, Year A
Episcopal Revised Common Lectionary
(Matthew 15:21-28) – Jesus left Gennesaret and went away to the district of Tyre and Sidon. Just then a Canaanite woman from that region came out and started shouting, "Have mercy on me, Lord, Son of David; my daughter is tormented by a demon." But he did not answer her at all. And his disciples came and urged him, saying, "Send her away, for she keeps shouting after us." He answered, "I was sent only to the lost sheep of the house of Israel." But she came and knelt before him, saying, "Lord, help me." He answered, "It is not fair to take the children's food and throw it to the dogs." She said, "Yes, Lord, yet even the dogs eat the crumbs that fall from their masters' table." Then Jesus answered her, "Woman, great is your faith! Let it be done for you as you wish." And her daughter was healed instantly.
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A few years ago I took a trip that followed the path of one of Paul’s missionary journeys. An extra stop on the tour was a visit to Crete, where Paul and Titus founded a Christian community.
One day we went across the island of Crete along the main east-west highway on the northern side. We had a delightful and informative guide, eager to tell us the stories of her country, in a dignified, yet fetching sing-song cadence.
In a city on the far end of the island, we visited a couple of museums housed in historic mosques from the days of the Ottoman Empire’s rule in Crete. Almost half of Crete’s population was Muslim prior to the Greek War of Independence that ended in 1832.
From the elevated highway, we could look into the cities and towns and see the minaret towers that are used to call the Muslim faithful to prayers five times a day. It seemed to me that there were a lot of minarets, though we had not heard any calls to prayer yet. All of the mosques that we had seen up close had been converted into museums or apartments and storefronts. I asked our guide about the mosques that dotted the landscape. Were any of them functioning? “No,” she said sharply. “There are no Muslims in Crete to this day.”
As we drove along the highway stretching most of the length of the island, our guide rehearsed for us a history of massacres and atrocities, with exact dates and numbers. “Two hundred meters south from here, on such-and-such date, the Turks massacred 563 men, women and children.” “Five kilometers down this road, on such-and-such date, the Turks burned and killed an entire village.” Every few minutes along the way, we passed the memory of a genocide or another atrocity, covering hundreds of years of Crete’s history. As I recall it, other than one or two references to the Nazi invasion in World War II, all of the outrages were committed by the Ottoman Turks.
As we neared the city where we were staying, she rehearsed one final tragic story. Then she looked at us to make her summary point: “So now you know why we all hate the Turks to this day.” No one had the stomach to ask if there had been any Greek massacres of the Turks, but I remained haunted by the statement, “There are no Muslims in Crete to this day.” Complete ethnic purification.
In the Bible we read of Joshua’s invasion of the land of Canaan. Starting with the battle of Jericho, the Hebrews fought the native-resident Canaanites and captured a number of cities and villages to claim a territory. After some of the battles all of the Canaanite inhabitants were executed. But the Canaanites remained, especially along the fertile plain adjacent to the Mediterranean Sea. The Bible records various conflicts with their descendents, including the Philistines.
There is a long history of conflict and violence between the Hebrew people and the Canaanite people. By Jesus’ day, they had been enemies for more than a thousand years. His people treasured memories of battles and victories, as well as painful memories of tragedies, outrages and genocides.
So we come to the story we have for today’s gospel. Jesus has traveled outside of Israel, to the coastal cities of Tyre and Sidon. His entourage is interrupted by a Canaanite woman who shouts at him, “Have mercy on me, Lord, Son of David; my daughter is tormented by a demon.” Jesus does not answer her. The disciples want to send her away. They would have regarded her as an enemy.
Jesus speaks to her to make it clear. He has boundaries. His mission is “only to the lost sheep of Israel.” Not to Canaanites. But the woman is persistent. She will not take “no” for an answer. So Jesus speaks more plainly. “It is not fair to take the children’s food and throw it to the dogs.” What Jesus says to her is not just street language; it is also Biblical language. Foreign enemies were called “dogs.” Everybody spoke that way. It’s language Jesus would have absorbed from his culture, from his family in Nazareth and elsewhere in Israel. She is a foreigner, a traditional enemy, unclean. He has been called to serve the lost sheep of Israel. That’s that.
But she says something surprising. “Yes, Lord, yet even the dogs eat the crumbs that fall from the master’s table.” This was an unexpected response – a clever response; a humble response; a response with the sound of faith. Jesus looks at her again. This time he sees not just a Canaanite, not a dog – he sees a human being, a concerned mother. “Woman, great is your faith! Let it be done for you as you wish.” And the child is healed.
Symbolically, a thousand years of enmity and strife is also healed. Jesus accepted a Canaanite. It is clear in Mark’s gospel that from this point on in Jesus’ mission, he performed the same healings and the same miraculous feedings among the Gentiles as he did among his own people. His mission of compassion was no longer only for the lost sheep of Israel, it was for every human being.
Part of what this story tells me is that we all grow up with cultural messages from childhood. We are born with our own people’s history. It is only natural that we see the world from our family’s perspective.
But when we encounter something humane that challenges our family’s perspective, Jesus shows us the way to transcend the limits of our culture. At the moment he recognized a common identity, Jesus instantly dropped a centuries-old inheritance and embraced an outsider in a spirit of compassion for our common humanity. He is our model. He invites us to join the divine work of healing centuries of enmity and strife.
We have our own history. We live here along the Trail of Tears, a landmark in the story of our people’s conquest and genocide over the native residents of this land. I remember signs that said “Whites Only” over waiting rooms and restrooms and water fountains. I know of some Episcopal churches where large numbers of their members left fifty years ago when a priest or vestry welcomed blacks into worship.
Our culture today inherits complicated attitudes of judgment and separation. In various ways we “dog” others. For some the dogs are immigrants or Muslims. For others, it’s fundamentalists or the Tea Partiers. The words “liberal” and “conservative” are both used as epithets.
Sometimes we don’t even know that we have a bias, until we face an anomaly. A Canaanite with faith! They’re not all dogs. Who knew?
I’ve got a friend who often finishes his sermons by giving his congregation some homework for the week. He says that what’s important about a sermon is what people can do with it during the week, no what they hear sitting down on Sunday.
So I have some homework to give you. Pay attention to your reactions this week. Notice when someone annoys you. If someone provokes a reaction in you, be alert – especially if they are demanding something or trying to goad you to attention.
Who is it that you have issues with? What kind of person pushes your buttons?
Then ask yourself, what do they really want? What do they say they need? What values might they affirm?
Finally, examine yourself to consider – in what ways might your reactions to them be culturally conditioned? How might your world view limit the scope of your compassion? Or, the short version: Who are the Canaanite women in your life?
See if sometime this week you are given an opportunity to follow Jesus’ example. Let that be a chance to renew your Baptismal Covenant promise to “strive for justice and peace among all people, and respect the dignity of every human being.” It may be that you will get a chance to take some of the children’s food and throw it to the dogs.
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