Sunday, August 17, 2008

Delivered By Rev. Ellen Brantley

SERMON:       Even the Dogs

TEXT: Matthew 15:21-28

          Good morning.  I’ve been invited to come here this morning and tell you that the story you’ve just heard is true.  I am the Canaanite woman that Matthew wrote about in his gospel.  And yes, Jesus – the one you worship and praise, the one you call Savior, Prince of Peace, Wonderful Counselor, King of Kings and Lord of Lords – this Jesus called me a dog.

          I know it comes as a shock to you.  I know you don’t want to hear about it.  I know you want to think that I’ve lied or misunderstood somehow.  But it’s true.  When I came to Jesus on my knees and begged him to heal my daughter, he said, “It is not fair to take the children’s food and throw it to the dogs.”  There’s no hidden meaning or error in translation.  I was one of the dogs he was referring to, and because of this he was not going to heal my daughter.

          The thing is, I’ve been called a dog plenty of times before.  To the Jews, anyone who was not a Jew was a dog.  It was a simple as that.  We were not among the chosen race; we were lower class; we were less deserving of God’s blessings.  I’d heard it so many times I had actually come to believe it.  So when Jesus called me a dog, I didn’t think twice about it.  I’d heard it before and I would hear it again.

          But this was my daughter who needed help.  If it was just for myself I wouldn’t have bothered.  But I would do anything for my child.  “Call me a dog; call me whatever you want,” I thought, “as long as you heal my daughter.”  And I’d heard that Jesus was the one I needed.  I’d heard he could do miracles.  I’d heard that he healed many diseases and could cast out demons with just a word.  I’d never seen my Jewish neighbors so in awe of anyone ever before, so I knew Jesus must be someone extra special.  “Son of David” they called him.  (David was one of their all-time heroes.)  So that’s how I addressed him.  I cried out, “Have mercy on me, Lord, Son of David; my daughter is tormented by a demon.”

          At first he said nothing, and his disciples told him to send me away.  And then he answered them, saying – as if they didn’t know it already – “I was sent only to the lost sheep of Israel.”  Was it for my benefit that he said this?  Was this his way of telling me I didn’t belong, that I shouldn’t even being approaching him?  Was he trying to break the news gently, without calling me a dog?  Or was he conflicted within himself?  Maybe he wanted to help me, but was reminding himself out loud of his primary mission to the Jews. 

          I guess it can happen to the best of us.  We can get so focused on our own agenda, our own purposes, our own needs, that we don’t allow ourselves to see that others have needs, too.  I was determined to get help for my daughter; Jesus was determined to help the people of Israel.  At that moment, I guess neither of us cared or even considered what the other wanted or needed.  We had tunnel vision for our own agenda and we were not going to be distracted by what the other was trying to accomplish.

          In visiting with your pastor I learned that being followers of Jesus and members of a church means that you’re called to live responsibly “in the personal, family, vocational, political, cultural, and social relationships of life.”  I’m not educated like you so I’m not sure what all that means.  But I think maybe it means that you know it’s not all about you.  It’s about the other person.  It’s about all the different ways in which we are in relationship with one another.  And maybe living responsibly means putting the relationship first, before our own needs and desires.

          Well, I guess Jesus didn’t really want to be “related” to me, but I wasn’t going to let him off so easily.  If he was a healer for others, I wanted him to be my healer, too, and my daughter’s.  If he was generous and merciful toward others, I wanted to be included in his generosity and mercy.  If he was a Savior for others, then why not save me, too?  Maybe I was not of the house of Israel, but I was like a lost sheep, just like they were.  I had nowhere else to turn and I was determined that Jesus was not going to turn me away.  Maybe I didn’t deserve “the children’s food.”  If I was a dog, so be it.  I would take whatever crumb of food I could get.  I’ll never forget how his face suddenly softened when I said, “Lord, even the dogs eat the crumbs that fall from their masters’ table.”

          Sometimes I guess you have to argue with the Lord.  Sometimes you have to love yourself enough to speak up and make your case that EVEN THE DOGS deserve a crumb.  You know, maybe Jesus was testing me.  Maybe he wanted to see how far I’d go, how badly I wanted and needed a blessing from him.  Maybe he wanted me to see myself as more than just a dog.  Maybe he wanted me to realize how much I needed not just a quick fix, but a long-term relationship with him.

          Or maybe I really did help him to see that the Israelites weren’t the only lost sheep who needed a shepherd.  Maybe Jesus, too, sometimes needed a reality check.  Maybe he needed to have his words challenged, his eyes opened, and his world expanded.  I heard that Jesus said once that “Those who are well have no need of a physician, but those who are sick….  I have come to call not the righteous, but sinners.”  Seems to me that EVEN THE DOGS fit easily into the category of those who are sick, and those who are sinners.

          Looking back on that time, I no longer characterize that encounter with Jesus as “the time he insulted me.’  It’s really the story of the beginning of my relationship with Jesus – a relationship of responsibility, trust, and accountability. 

          Well, I see that you have your table set, and you’re getting ready for a special meal.  One of the wonderful things about Jesus – one of the reasons I pushed for his acceptance of me, was because I’d heard that he often shared a meal with tax collectors and sinners, with prostitutes and lepers, with EVEN THE DOGS.  So I know that this table is big enough for all of you, whether you feel like a beloved child, a lost sheep, or even a dog.  Jesus had mercy on me, and I know he’ll have mercy on you.  Jesus healed my daughter, and I know he can heal you.  The Master’s Table is where mercy and healing and forgiveness can be found, not just in crumbs, but in abundance.  Jesus accepts you and invites you to share in this meal, and to share mercy and healing and forgiveness with each other – EVEN THE DOGS.

          Grace to you, and peace, in the name of the Lord Jesus Christ.