The Master becomes the Student (The story of the Canaanite woman)

 This sermon was preached at our Sunday morning service on Sunday 16th August. The gospel that morning was Matthew 15:21-28

Today’s gospel is difficult. Difficult because it presents us with a Jesus who – at least at first – doesn’t seem particularly Christ-like.

Jesus in this passage is parochial. His concern is for his people and his nation. He’s got a mission to the House of Israel, and that is where he believes his focus needs to be. He's not concerned about helping the Canaanite woman who begs for his aid. She is not Jewish, and she is, seemingly, not worthy.

I’m sure you’ve heard it before that different Gospel-writers had different focuses. John, for example, was particularly concerned with writing a theology about Christ, and Mark was writing for the benefit persecuted Christians in Rome. Matthew – who wrote our passage today – was particularly writing for a Jewish audience. Perhaps this makes Jesus’ viewpoint here more understandable; it’s an expression of solidarity for and by the in-crowd.

Still, for us on the outside – gentiles and foreigners to Jesus’ community – Jesus’ words and attitude here still hurt. They offend me. We would do well to remember this, by the way. Our expressions of belonging, and our common experience can easily become exclusive to the detriment of others on the outside, whether we mean them to or not.

I think we need to read this story like we’re on the inside instead. That’s who it was written for – insiders. Let’s try this:

 

Jesus left St Michael’s in Flixton, and went away to a small town in northern Lebanon where he had been invited by a local group of Christians to preach and hopefully perform some healing miracles at their small church. As he and his disciples were driving towards the church, a woman from a nearby Al-Qaeda camp ran towards the car carrying the group, shouting. She was ranting about demons and pleading for mercy. Jesus was taken aback, and sat watching as the woman ran closer and the car edged on.

"Send her away!", his disciples pleaded with him, fearful of the commotion that was being caused, and the repercussions that might take place.

But Jesus did not tell her to leave. He called out of the window to her instead: "I’m sorry; I’m busy. I’m here to preach in the church shortly. I don’t have time to help you."

As the car continued on its journey, the woman ran in front of it, and knelt down in the road, causing the car to stop in its tracks. "Lord, help me", she begged.

"I’m here for the church," Jesus called back. "It isn’t fair to keep them waiting for me; I’m already late. I’m here to provide spiritual nourishment to them. You wouldn’t give your daughter’s food to the dogs here in the street, would you?"

 

 

I’ve not changed much in my retelling  – just the perspective. I’ve even kept some of the original themes of being out in dangerous lands, and an encounter with a potential mortal enemy that are present in Matthew’s version, but are so easy for us to miss 2000 years, and many, many miles later. The story is easier to swallow this way, however, isn’t it? With us on the inside? It is the same story though; it’s just that we’re not used to being on the outside, are we?

I think one of the difficulties of this passage for us in suburban 2020 is precisely that; it turns things on their heads. We’re forced to place ourselves with the outsider, and we soon are made to see that the religious authorities are not as good to us as we thought they were being when we were inside the tent. You may well remember a news story from only a few months ago, where an Anglican priest-in-training was denied a job as a curate in an English Parish church. His rejection letter referred to his “obvious gifts”, but still it stated it was not worth entering into a conversation with him about the placement. The reason given? The parish was white, and the curate was black. The curate, Augustine Tanner-Ihm went on to win the coveted 2020 Theology Slam, by the way – a competition organised by the Church Times, SCM Press, LICC and the Community of St Anselm to find the most engaging voices thinking theologically about today’s world. Augustine was an outsider, and those inside the church thought they were helping him out by telling him that his face wouldn't fit. We in the church need to always place ourselves with those outside the doors. We need to be conscious about who is unable to get in. Who are we preventing from access to Christ? This passage with Jesus and the Canaanite woman forces us into that position.

But, it’s not just in this way that the passage is turned on its head. I said at the beginning that I didn’t think Jesus was particularly Christ-like in this passage, and indeed, it is not Jesus, the Rabbi, the Teacher, who teaches here; it is Jesus who learns. The master becomes the student.

That’s an odd thing to think about Jesus, isn’t it? Jesus learning? But, if we really think about it, we know it must be something that happened. There are different theologies as to at what point in his mission, Jesus became the Christ, but we surely know that Jesus was not born knowing fluent Aramaic or how to walk. He was not born with his theology fully-formed – we only need to read the Magnificat, Mary’s prayer upon finding she is pregnant, to see how his mother’s view of God and the world clearly impacted on Jesus’ worldview. And here, in today’s passage, we have another woman - another ignorable woman - teaching Jesus a lesson; helping Jesus the miracle worker on the road towards becoming Jesus the Christ. And thank God she did; for in this passage, Jesus’ worldview suddenly widens – no longer is his mission purely for the House of Israel, but he realises the spiritual nourishment he brings is for all people. There is food falling off the table, such that it can be eaten from the ground – enough to feed thousands and thousands. Jesus learns that there is more than enough of God to go round, and it is time, in the words of the famous quote, to build a bigger table; one for all peoples. In today’s passage, Jesus realises he is the messiah not just for the Jews, but for all of us. For the insiders and the outsiders.

That Canaanite woman, the outsider, helps Jesus to open up the doors, and bring us all inside. And if we think about it, how typical of our God is that? God, it seems, really gets a kick out of allowing a nobody to help him change the world; to open the doors for all of us nobodies. 

Our job today is to keep those doors open, in whatever way we can in today’s world. There are still people outside, and they have much to teach us about God. After all, if an outsider can teach Jesus about the kingdom, surely we can learn something from those outside too?

Amen.