Sermons
The Mistake
Matthew 15:10-28
The Rev. Canon Kurt Wiesner
August 17, 2008
Jesus' words have a remarkable way of stirring things up. His words have sparked everything from agreement and rejoicing to grumblings and full-out protests. His words provoked the spectrum of actions in the lives of those who heard him: some people lives were completely transformed--people left their homes to follow him around--while others grew to fear Jesus because of the danger he represented.
One thing was certain: his words were memorable.
This morning we have very memorable words from Jesus, but not in the way we're used to. We are used to Jesus' words inviting us to live kinder, gentler lives towards each other. We are used to Jesus' words challenging us to act to make God's vision for the world a reality. We are used to Jesus' words comforting us in times of trouble.
What we're not used to are words from Jesus that we are to reject.
But lo and behold, that's what we have this morning.
A woman comes to Jesus, begging for help. The disciples tell Jesus to send her away. Now is the time where Jesus is to step in and surprise the disciples with his generosity of time and spirit.
Instead he says, "I was sent only to the lost sheep of the house of Israel."
And follows it up with something even worse: "It's not right to take bread out of children's mouths and throw it to the dogs."
I have said it before, and I still believe it: Jesus, my Lord, the one through whom I know the love of God--in the heat of the moment makes a terrible mistake and calls this woman who is asking him for help a dog.
There are explanations that attempt to excuse Jesus from these remarks. Some have suggested that Jesus was testing the woman with his words. I can't imagine that that's true: For if this was the case, I personally think that's even crueler than the words' face value. This woman's child was deathly ill: is this a time to test her? Of course not.
Others have concluded that Jesus never really said these words. These others include the majority of the Fellows of the Jesus Seminar, whose work I greatly respect and often use. The Jesus Seminar concluded that the dialogue of this story was the storyteller's: not Jesus' actual words. They soundly point to the fact that the overwhelming majority of Jesus' teachings suggest openness to pagans and gentiles: Think about Jesus' travels outside of Galilee, the story of the Good Samaritan, the encounter with the woman at the well, and so on.
They attribute the passage to a branch of the early Christian movement that believed that their work should be focused on the evangelistic efforts of the Judean community in Palestine. (The Five Gospels, Funk, Hoover & The Jesus Seminar, 204)
There's sound reasoning here, but what bothers me is this: Why include the dogs comment, found in both Mark and Matthew? If the point is that this is created text to show why the focus should be on the Judeans, why include the woman's response and Jesus declaring her faith great? If it's really added text to push a point of ministry to the house of Israel only, why refute it immediately?
This is one of the only times in our scriptures where we have a Jesus moment that does not speak well of him. I am hesitant to dismiss it. Perhaps it is here because it was a story that refused to go away. Perhaps there were those who, in the midst of sharing the stories of Jesus said "But what about that encounter with the Canaanite woman?"
Doesn't it make sense that Jesus, a faithful Jew, would have originally thought that his ministry was supposed to be with his own people? His people were under Rome's thumb, and were being taken advantage of by their own religious leaders. So he focused on them, but they struggled to understand. Even his handpicked disciples seemed clueless to the simplest of his messages. Jesus desperately needs some rest, and he finally gets away to a place where he thinks his time will be his, but instead finds this woman who will not stop calling for him. Finally, his patience ends, and he pushes her away.
And thanks be to God, she pushes right back.
Is it possible that Jesus remembered then his own bold and prophetic words: "It is not what goes in, but what comes out of the mouth that defiles?"
What I think that means is that our capacity to do wrong is part of our human nature. We do not become infected with sin by breaking customs, like the Pharisees were trying to suggest. The capacity for sin, thoughts, words and actions that isolate us from God and each other's love is part of being fully human.
Will we allow Jesus himself to be fully human? Will we allow Jesus a mistake along his path of faithfulness to God's call?
If we are able to, I think we begin to see the power in having Jesus learn something new--something so powerful that it changed the scope of his ministry, a ministry that would from this moment on especially focus on the outsider and the person marginalized by the community.
I am grateful for a portrait of Jesus that shows growth in his character from his experience with others. It proves to me that his encounters with people were real. There was the opportunity for all, including Jesus, to be transformed by each other. It shows that Jesus' ministry changed over time-- that it grew and blossomed in part by the people he met along the way.
The good news here is that this story just might lead to a gentler and more patient way of interacting with each other. We can be a people vulnerable to change, and capable of a shared vision towards a better world.
Could there be a greater example of God's love: A glimpse of the fork in the road that leads toward Heaven on Earth?