May the words of my mouth and the meditation of our hearts be acceptable in your sight,
O Lord, our strength and our redeemer. Amen.
As a pastor, one expects to get calls or texts outside of normal business hours. A pastor's
work schedule usually doesn't refer to the Dolly Parton 9-5 paradigm. I was very well
aware of this when I signed up for the job. My mentors and my professors therefore emphasized
the need to set boundaries, especially between what can wait and what cannot wait. Obviously,
a balancing act is required, and this certainly takes some time to master. In case you were
wondering, I've not quite mastered it yet. Over the course of my 14 years, I've had fewer
calls or texts than one might expect. However, I've had some memorable ones. I'm not going
to go too much into detail, but interestingly enough, most of these calls are actually from
people outside of the congregation, people who are not members of the congregation. They
need food or water or shelter or medicine. Every once in a while, I'm able to help out,
but unfortunately, I ignore a lot of the calls. Now, that might sound rude, but we did just
read about Jesus ignoring this Canaanite woman. She is even worse than that. She is seeking
Jesus because she believes that he can heal her daughter. When she finds him, she yells
after him, addressing him as Lord. He looks at his phone and presses decline. She calls
right back, but the disciples urge her, urge him to send her to voicemail. He at least
answers the phone this time and tells her that what she's asking for is not a part of
his job description. The Canaanite woman, however, has complete disregard for Jesus
boundaries, remains oblivious to them, or rather she probably just doesn't care. Jesus
has only come to save the lost sheep of Israel. Jesus has only come to save the Jews, and
at very best, she is a lost dog that no one is looking for. She's a pagan. She comes from
a people who worship Baal. She's a Gentile. She's a non-Jew. According to many Israelites,
she and her people have no more dignity in society, no more protection in society than
that of a dog. And dog is used pejoratively here. She's a mutt. She's not a purebred.
Now, before we get too offended, let's go back to the beginning of today's lesson. After
talking with the Pharisees, the disciples rush to tell Jesus, you have offended the
Pharisees by what you said. But what's new, right? The Pharisees get offended by what
you said. But what's new, right? The Pharisees get offended a lot. But reading that line
about Jesus offending the Pharisees right after I myself was offended by Jesus, racial
slur, caused a lump to develop in my throat. Is this one of those Nathan and David moments?
Is this one of those reverse psychology lessons when I realize that the person that I should
be offended by is myself because I am that man? I, like one of the Pharisees, are offended
too. Jesus' actions have offended me. And not the hand washing part, but the part where
Jesus is just flat out rude to this woman. He could have said with a smile on his face,
I'm sorry ma'am, but I can't help your daughter right now. If you wait over here, maybe I
can get to you after all my paying customers have been treated. Here in the south, being
nice covers a multitude of sins. However, Jesus doesn't save the world by being nice.
In fact, Jesus saves the world exactly because he offends us and everyone on every level,
no matter who you are. So if you think Jesus is on your side on every single issue, then
you might want to start talking less and listening more in your prayers. Jesus doesn't come
to pick sides. Jesus isn't here to sponsor your agenda or cause. Jesus comes to save
a world that is divided and enslaved by sin. He comes to save a world that can't stop
fighting with one another. And a part of that salvation will actually see traditional enemies
come together. The Jews and the Romans come together to form alliances to kill Jesus.
The Canaanite woman, however, has no dog in this fight. She is not a part of the political
landscape. Regardless of who wins the region, the Jews or the Romans, she will still be
a dog. She will still be less than human. You might say that she has nothing left to
lose and she will not take no for an answer. At this point, nothing can offend her, not
even Jesus ignoring her, not even his pejorative remark. She knows if anyone can heal her
daughter, it is this man and she will demand mercy and she will get it. There's a song
at Camp McDowell that offends me and my theological sensibilities on every level. It's a catchy
song, not to put it down too much, but to make matters worse, it is an all time camp
favorite. If you don't play this song at a Camp McDowell session, then you're going to
get a refund. Removing it from the rotation would lead to protests in front of Epps Hall.
But like, and like many camp songs, it's a pop song reinterpreted for a church setting.
It's called Unconditional Love by Donna Summer. It was written in 1994. The chorus goes like
this, give me your unconditional love, the kind of love I deserve, the kind I want to
return. Now I like that last part, the kind I want to return. But first of all, there's
no shame here. Where's the humility? Give me the love I deserve, excuse you. How about
adding at least a please or a thank you somewhere? And I think the lyrics are a little oxymoronish.
If love is unconditional, then how can you deserve it? And because I'm a theological
snob, I sing it like this. I want your unconditional love, the kind of love I can't
earn, the love I want to return. And let's just say my version hasn't caught on yet.
Who am I to demand God's love? Who am I to say that I deserve God's love? But then
again, I am not the Canaanite woman. I am not the one on the outside looking in. I've
never had to wait in the back of the line for anything. I was born near the front of
the line and my last name starts with an A. What did I do to deserve that? Nothing.
Moreover, there are people born at the back of the line every day and their name starts
with a Z. What did they do to deserve that? Nothing. Jesus is right. It isn't fair to
take the children's food and throw it to the dogs. The dogs, or the Gentiles, deserve
a place at the table too. And if we, the religious people, don't give them a place at the table,
they will demand a place. They will most likely offend our religious and social sensibilities.
Too often do we religious people use their rude behavior as justifications as why we
don't let them have a place at the table. In 1965 at St. Paul's in Selma where I served
as rector, they integrated the parish there, allowing local black women and children and
men to attend worship. But it didn't come without a struggle. It was largely inspired
by Jonathan Daniels, a 26-year-old seminarian, an eventual martyr in the Episcopal Church.
He was actually killed 58 years ago today in Hanedville, Alabama after standing in front
of a shotgun intended for a young black woman who wanted to buy a Coke at a local all-white
store. But back in March of that year, Daniels worked with the rector and with members of
the congregation to integrate St. Paul's, which led to obviously contentious debates
among the membership. I once heard someone say that they weren't allowed to worship
because they didn't wear church clothes. That wasn't the majority. That was just one person's
comment. But that's sort of the mentality. It was their fault because they weren't acting
right, that they didn't follow the social conventions and sort of washed our hands clean
of the wrongdoing. Now, the week before Daniels and his delegation were allowed into worship,
they kneeled before the steps of St. Paul's in prayer as a form of protest. Other members
of St. Paul's who didn't agree with the segregationist stance also stood outside the church in protest.
And the opening hymn that morning was, Oh Jesus, Thou Art Standing Behind the Fast-Closed
Door. Now, by the following week, Daniels and his delegation were welcome to worship.
And a handful of the members there at St. Paul's were so offended that they left the
church. And they literally did not come back until their funeral. Most of the congregation
stayed. Now, I tell this because if Jesus doesn't offend you from time to time, then
you are either a saint or a sleep. I didn't ask Emily's permission on this, but hopefully
she'll forgive me. She remarked this week that if first century Jesus came among us
in 21st century America, we'd probably call the cops on him. And I don't think we would.
I think we already have. At least I think I have already called the cops on Jesus. I
say this because when we decide to follow Jesus, we are also making a decision to cross
boundaries that we've been told not to cross. Geographical boundaries, social boundaries,
political boundaries, religious boundaries even. And the list goes on. But the good news
is that the reward for crossing those boundaries far outweighs the risk. Because when we cross
those boundaries, we get to meet with and live with a God whose love knows no boundaries.
A love that has made you worthy to sit at the table. A love that we know in Jesus Christ,
our Lord, the one who crosses over the chasm, the great boundary between heaven and earth
to show us the way. Amen.