August 18, 2002
"May God be merciful to us and bless us, show us the light of his countenance and come to us." (Psalm 67:1)
Jesus once said, "Truly I tell you, whoever does not receive the kingdom of God as a little child will never enter it." (Mark 10:15) To catch a glimpse of what that might mean, listen with me as we wonder about the gift of children.
When I look at a patch of dandelions, I see a bunch of weeds that are going to take over my yard. Kids see flowers for Mom and blowing white fluff you can wish on.
When I look at an old drunk and he smiles at me, I see a smelly, dirty person who probably wants money, and I look away. Kids see someone smiling at them, and they smile back.
When I hear music I love, I know I can't carry a tune and don't have much rhythm, so I sit self-consciously and listen. Kids feel the beat and move to it. They sing out the words, and if they don't know them, they make up their own.
When I feel wind on my face, I brace myself against it. I feel it messing up my hair and pulling me back when I walk. Kids close their eyes, spread their arms, and fly with it, until they fall to the ground laughing.
When I pray, I say "thee" and "thou" and "grant me this" and "give me that." Kids say "Hi, God! Thanks for my toys and my friends. Please keep the bad dreams away tonight. Sorry, I don't want to go to heaven yet. I would miss Mommy and Daddy."
When I see a mud puddle, I step around it. I see muddy shoes and clothes and dirty carpets. Kids sit in it. They see dams to build, rivers to cross, and worms to play with.
I wonder if we are given kids to teach or to learn from? No wonder God loves the little children!1
When her peers looked at Jesus, they saw just another Jewish man traveling through their country. When the Canaanite woman looked, she saw health and salvation.
The Canaanite woman of today's Gospel was the kind of person Jesus said would enter the kingdom. We can learn a lot from her. We can learn about a child-like faith from her. We are given entrance into wonderful and good news through her story. Unlike other grown-ups in the story, this woman saw healing in Jesus, and she would not be denied.
To everyone in this church this morning, and to everyone in our families, our neighborhoods, and our work places who has ever felt like an outsider, who has ever felt lower than the dirt, who has ever felt invisible. We have a saint.
To anyone in this church this morning, and to anyone who couldn't quite make it here this morning, who has ever turned to God and been met with silence, or who has turned to God and heard "No" or who has turned to God and felt rebuked. We have a saint.
To anyone in this church this morning, and the same is true for those you know in family and neighborhood and work, to anyone who has ever been desperate, at their wit's end, without resources, beyond self-reliance, helpless, we have a saint.
We have a saint whose child-like faith was praised by no one less than Jesus himself and whose child-like faith was rewarded with healing for her daughter. Quite appropriately, our saint has no name. She is "the Canaanite woman." No name, but certainly a powerful witness to all of us.
As her story opens, Jesus has gone away from the crowds. Jesus has gone to the beach. He is there with his disciples among a people considered outside the covenant, lower than dirt (scum in fact) to those who knew the God of the covenant. He doesn't expect to be recognized or pestered, but our saint shows up and understands her need for his healing grace.
We are told that she started shouting "Have mercy on me, Lord, Son of David; my daughter is tormented by a demon." She recognized him, and like a child, cared nothing about the wisdom of the day, the cultural norms that were to be observed between men and women and Jew and Gentile. Her need was great. She may be an outsider, this Jesus (about whom she has heard) may consider her lower than the dirt, and she may have been invisible to others before Jesus, but she was not going to be invisible any longer.
She points the way for all of us who feel as she did. She can give us courage. Just get out there and start shouting at God.
Scholars love to point out that the tense of the verb indicates that she didn't shout just once. Oh no. She was persistent in her shouting. Certainly Jesus must have heard her. But for whatever reason he was silent. For anyone in this room who has ever experienced the silence of God, here is our saint.
She was not put off was she? As indicated by the disciples whining, the Canaanite woman, our nameless saint, was apparently annoying in her persistence. We can learn something else from this woman's story. The disciples of Jesus, the friends of Jesus, the one's he would come to rely on, ultimately, made intercessions against our saint. They wanted the Son of God, the Messiah, to send this woman away. Still, this woman would not be deterred. For anyone here (or anyone you know) who has found the community of believers to be less than helpful, take heart, here is our saint.
She persisted. Finally, Jesus breaks his silence, but it isn't good news. He points out that his mission is first, and foremost to the people of the covenant. He tells her no. First, he's silent. Then his friends tell him to get rid of her. Then he breaks the silence to say, "No". But she is not daunted.
She came to him. She knelt, and repeated her prayer. This time, apparently, no shouting, no buttering him up with the title of Messiah. We're told that she knelt and said, "Lord, help me." Our nameless saint, annoying, persistent, and beautiful in her simplicity: she knelt and said, "Lord, help me." No directions, no list of specifics, no pretense that she could do any of it on her own.
Long before this moment, Jesus said to all who would listen: "Come unto me, all ye that travail and are heavy laden, and I will refresh you." (Mt 11:28) They are such comforting and comfortable words.
But that is not what he said to our saint. Jesus answered her simple entreaty, "It is not fair to take the children's food and throw it to the dogs." (Mt. 15:26) Jesus speaks an emphatic, "No."
And now, our saint shines. It may not be the right time in the mission of Jesus to do this, it may be a scandal to his disciples, her persistence may have pushed the disciples over the edge and Jesus may be responding to that, but her need is great and without God's grace there will be no healing. So she absorbs the emphatic no, and responds that even the master's dogs get to eat the crumbs from the table. All she needs is some of the crumbs, is that too much to ask?
Perhaps the Prayer of Humble Access began with our nameless saint. In our prayers, Rite I, we say aloud to the Lord and to each other: "we are not worthy so much as to gather up the crumbs under Thy table." We are there with our Canaanite woman, kneeling before Jesus in our need, gathering up the courage to be persistent, and knowing full well that we will never have enough to purchase this grace or deserve this grace or earn this grace. It is the Lord's to give.
And now the good news of this story comes: "Woman, great is your faith! Let it be done for you as you wish." This woman's need, insight, and reliance on God's grace and power (not to mention her persistence) capture the heart of the Lord. No one less than Jesus pronounced then and continues to announce in every generation "Woman, great is your faith!"
May we be so blessed.
And, feeling blessed, may we invite others to come and hear this Good News and come and experience God's grace and blessing for themselves.
Let's invite those who feel on the outside, those who feel invisible, those whose prayers have been met with silence or even emphatic "Nos", those who have been pushed away by the church, and those especially who feel helpless and lost but who with child-like persistence and hope will be able to find help and find the way as we have.
"Let your ways be known upon earth, your saving health among all nations." (Ps 67:2) Amen.
1 From the Internet PreachingToday www.preachingtoday.com Citation: Source unknown; submitted by Debi Zahn, Sandwich, Illinois.
The Rev. Daniel Rondeau
drondeau@stmargarets.org
August 18, 2002