Sunday, August 16, 2020

Astounding Grace: Sermon for Proper 15A


I don’t know about you, but I love the underdog. Whenever I see a competition, and I don’t have a particular dog in the hunt, I usually end up rooting for the side that is most disdained or overlooked. This probably is partially due to the fact that I grew up as a sports-loving girl, which in a time when Title IX was just getting started, made me already an underdog. I was good enough at sports that the boys actually asked me to come out and play. Football, baseball, soccer—all through elementary school I was out on the playground with a few other sporty girls and the guys, even in the summer time.

Then I got to junior high, and things got weird, and many guys didn’t want to compete with girls and risk “losing” to girls, and suddenly they got to grow another foot tall while we girls didn’t. And so suddenly, as a girl, for a while there, I and my female sporty friends became the underdog, the overlooked, when it came to sports.

And then, I grew up in a state which had no professional sports, which is how—and I can confess this to you because there is no one actually IN the nave right now to throw things at me-- I grew up to be a Cubs fan.

Yes. Because when cable TV came to Tulsa, the Cubs games were always broadcast on WGN. And during the time I was a Cubs fan, although the Cubs had many talented players, like Greg Maddux, Leon “Bull” Durham, Ron “the Penguin” Cey, and my favorite, Ryne Sandberg, they never had much success. They were supposedly under a curse having something to do with a goat, we were told. Whatever. They were always the underdogs. The discounted. The excluded.

Todays’ reading all feature discussions about underdogs, about those who are excluded, about the tensions between having “insider” status and having “outsider” status. In our story from Genesis, we once again skip a whole lot of the good stuff in the story about Joseph, and jump to the end. Now Joseph has gone from being slave to being the master of Egypt, and his brothers have had to come to Egypt during a famine to try to buy bread for the large family of Jacob to survive. They do not recognize Joseph, who now goes by an Egyptian name, dresses like an Egyptian, walks like an Egyptian, has an Egyptian wife and half-Egyptian children, and is second only to Pharaoh in power. And maybe because he has come out on top, Joseph forgives his brothers for considering murdering him, and then selling him into slavery.

But this story is placed here for the sake of our gospel reading to remind us of an important point about the identity of the people of Israel, as Biblical scholar Wil Gafney points out. “Joseph's complicated family history teaches us that Israelite identity was a cultural and religious one and not an ethnic or even national one in his time -- and for some time to come. In Joseph's story the Israelites and Egyptians are not pitted against one another. There will be enough food for all because of his stewardship.” But the This point will be important later.

As we have been reminded especially at the start of the COVID pandemic, when suddenly all kinds of necessities disappeared from our store shelves even in the American Land of Plenty, in the face of scarcity, the temptation is always to cut others out, to hoard and store up for ourselves. And we certainly see that fear leading some in our society to try to lock others out, especially those in need. Even before COVID, we saw that fear play itself out on our borders, and it continues even though we are distracted by a global pandemic.

It’s human nature to look for some markers so that we can draw bright, circular lines around groups of people. The people on the inside of that line? That’s “us.” And those on the outside of that line? That’s “them.” They’re the “others.” The outsiders, the unworthy.

And in times of stress, or crisis, or scarcity, those we label as “other” risk being seen not just as different but as the enemy, as competition for scarce resource whose needs must be denies so that then insiders can, if not prosper, then at least have “enough.”

Note I said it was human nature. But the question is: is this tendency to exclude a part of God’s plan and vision for God’s kingdom, for the creation of God’s family here on earth than Matthew’s gospel calls “the kingdom of heaven?”

That’s where the story of our Canaanite woman in our gospel today comes in. Hers is the third scene in chapter 15 of Matthew’s gospel. We missed scene one, where Pharisees come and criticize Jesus and his disciples for not observing "traditions of the elders" regarding washing hands before eating and so on. Jesus argues back that violating traditions is not nearly as important as violating commandments, especially the commandment to be generous and expansive in taking care of those in need.

Scene two in this chapter is what we see at the beginning of today’s gospel portion, where Jesus explains to his disciples that true righteousness starts not from the outside of a person, but from the heart—from the inside. For Jesus, true purity and righteousness is about relationships, not about legalism—about how we care for others rather than making a big show of how perfect we ourselves are. Jesus exasperatedly explains that what comes out of the mouth originates in the heart, and bad intentions from the heart leads to real impurity. The six specific impurities he mentions all have to do with broken relationships.

Jesus is accused in the first part of our gospel reading of not having respect for the Law, tradition, and his own culture. In the second half of our gospel, he starts from a prejudice rooted in his culture, and is brought to new amazement by a demonstration of faith where the prejudices of his time would least expect them—from a Canaanite woman. We also have one of the times when Jesus appears to be rude to a woman (remember also his response to his own mother when she asks him to perform the miracle at the wedding at Cana in John’s gospel).

This woman has all the marks of not just an underdog, but an outsider. She is called a “Canaanite,” to remind Matthew’s audience that she is by birth not just an outsider but an enemy of the people of Israel, a competitor for scarce resources— space, land and water. And she is a woman, and women were to be seen and not heard. Yet heard she most certainly is. She comes out and trails behind Jesus and his crowd of followers, caterwauling and braying at the top of her lungs—first from behind the crowd, and then, when she is ignored, she comes around and throws herself down on the ground right in Jesus’s path. She makes it impossible for him to ignore her.

The Canaanite woman asks her favor, will not be denied, and actually argues back to make her case. Only one who believes that Jesus could actually do something would be so determined. In fact this unnamed Canaanite woman is the only person in scripture to be depicted winning a debate with Jesus.

Although at first Jesus answers rudely to our ears (answering rudeness for rudeness, perhaps, but still rude), he does eventually note the power of her faith—and that faith makes her daughter well.

By acknowledging Jesus as the “son of David,” she shows, outsider or not, a familiarity with the Jewish scriptures. The term is also used ten times in the gospel of Matthew alone starting with the very first verse of the gospel. She also uses the language of prayer, “Lord, have mercy,” the same language used in many of our own prayers of intercession, or in the Kyrie eleison. In fact, this short scene is drenched in liturgical action, as she also kneels before him in a position of petition.

Four times in Matthew’s gospel, the plea “Have mercy on me, Son of David!” is used by people asking Jesus to be healed: the two blind men of 9:22-32 and two more in 20:25-21:1, who repeat the plea twice; and here, by the Canaanite woman. In each case of healing, Jesus makes it clear that their healing comes about through their faith, and this Canaanite woman is no different. In each case, the person seeking healing seizes the initiative.

The Canaanite woman is different in that she is a mother seeking healing for her daughter, who is not present. Her faith is so great that she believes that Jesus can heal an outsider’s daughter regardless of distance.

Here is where also we see the tie with the claims in Romans —God’s grace and mercy is for everyone, and no one is left out. Where we might expect Jesus to proclaim this himself, here we see an outsider CLAIM this for herself and her daughter. The teacher is taught something by the student he is inclined to disdain.

This epiphany to Jesus reminds us again that he was fully human as well as fully the Son of God, and could learn things and be surprised by them. It also reminds us that far too often are we prone to see others of different backgrounds as the enemy when in fact they are our brothers and sisters, with just claim upon us that should stir a just response rather than resentment. This also reminds us, as we noted in our reflections on Paul, that God’s love is universal, and is not limited to just people who hold the correct sets of beliefs or lineage.

I don’t know about you, but BOY is this a message for our time! Almost every policy discussion surrounding economics and the social safety net revolves around who does and does not deserve help.

So is tenacity a part of faith? What else is faith but perseverance and tenacity even in the face of obstacles? Faith, like any spiritual muscle, is strengthened especially when it is under stress. Only a few days ago we heard the story of Jacob wrestling with God/the angel in the middle of the night in a literal no-man’s land. Jacob couldn’t win, but he refused to back down until he endured a “cheap shot” to his hip—and then demanded a blessing.

Just like Jacob, this woman won’t let go until she, too, gets her blessing. She perseveres. In a popular phrase from our own time, “Nevertheless, she persists.” And in doing so, she invites Jesus into living deeper into the claim he had just made—that God’s grace is not just amazing, as the song goes, but astounding and boundary-exploding.

In the first part of our gospel, Jesus reminds us it is not what goes into a body that defiles, but what comes out. People are not “in” or “out” by accident of birth—where they are born, or who their parents are, or the color of their skin or the language they speak or whether they are outwardly good at following rules while inwardly cruel and hard-hearted. At some point in your life, you are responsible to choose whether to follow God and God’s expansive vision of community or not.

We see it a lot in our society right now, all over what was formerly known as “Christendom.” There are people who were born into Christian homes, and brought up with going to Church. They even absorbed knowledge of Bible stories and perhaps can quote the Lord’s prayer and the 23rd Psalm. They’re “culturally Christian”—nominally fluent in the language and rituals of the Christian religion. But unless they decide for themselves to walk in the Way of Jesus, no matter how imperfectly, their knowledge doesn’t translate into faith.

Luckily, if we can hear this message of radical generosity and inclusion, it means that as we embark on our journey of faith, we are assured that we are not only never outsiders, we are never alone. We not only have Jesus. We have each other. We are called to deny the forces of the world that seek to exclude, to divide, and instead to embrace those we encounter, especially those who call out for help. We ourselves have received astounding grace and mercy. It’s time to demonstrate that same grace to the world around us—especially when everything around us tries to make us hard-hearted and afraid. That’s how the light of Christ will shine, even in this time of fear and darkness. It will shine from inside us, once we embrace each other in true charity and empathy.

Amen.


Preached at the 10:30 am online worship service at St. Martin's Episcopal Church, Ellisville, MO during the cessation of in-person worship due to COVID-19.

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