The Disciples Said What!? ~ Matthew 15:21-28 (Jesus Said What!? Series)

²¹ Leaving that place, Jesus withdrew to the region of Tyre and Sidon. ²² A Canaanite woman from that vicinity came to him, crying out, “Lord, Son of David, have mercy on me! My daughter is demon-possessed and suffering terribly.” ²³ Jesus did not answer a word. So his disciples came to him and urged him, “Send her away, for she keeps crying out after us.” ²⁴ He answered, “I was sent only to the lost sheep of Israel.” ²⁵ The woman came and knelt before him. “Lord, help me!” she said. ²⁶ He replied, “It is not right to take the children’s bread and toss it to the dogs.” ²⁷ “Yes it is, Lord,” she said. “Even the dogs eat the crumbs that fall from their master’s table.” ²⁸ Then Jesus said to her, “O Woman, you have great faith! Your request is granted.” And her daughter was healed at that moment. ~ Matt. 15:21-28

1.    Who’s your grandmother?

Matthew's usual term for gentiles, sometimes translated “nations,” is not used here. The designation “Canaanite” certainly defines the woman as a gentile, but not just any gentile. Did Matthew chuckle as he wrote “Canaanite”? He did it on purpose, you know. He’s sneaky, playing with us, like a good documentary film maker. It’s easy to miss because we don’t see that the Gospels are not like modern historical biographies exactly but more like documentary films which play with images, metaphors, even chronology in order to make a point. They are depictions of truth with a message.

The term “Canaanite” conveys a deep-seated historical bias that “Syro-Phoenician” (Mark 7) does not. The referent is biblical not contemporary. After the Exodus, you may recall, the Israelites were told to exterminate the Canaanites and others (and the language is important): “ . . . you must utterly destroy them . . . and show them no mercy” (Deut. 7:2).But there were no Canaanites living in the first century, so the label does not describe present-day encounters. It evokes an ancient conflict and thus defines the woman in terms of age-old prejudices a first-century Jewish audience would understand. And this hated one – whom no Jew should show mercy – begs for it. So Matthew is trying to depict the archetype enemy, the consummate outsider, the most hated. Our modern translation might say, “A Red Coat woman came . . .” or “Or a Nazi mother came out of that region . . .” Why would that matter? What’s the joke? What’s Matthew doing? He’s referencing a Biblical context of hatred that Jesus aims to end.
Here we have Canaanite woman begging for mercy from the Messiah, the King of the Jews, who by all rights should show her none And yet this Canaanite recognizes him, she kneels before him. She is the enemy-immigrant that we are to remember could be a relative. That’s right, I said, relative. For Matthew has already given us the genealogy of Jesus through the line of King David. And do you remember anything about the lineage? Three of Jesus’ ancestors we’re

Canaanite women: Rahab, Tamar, and Ruth (Matthew 1:3, 5). Three of the women caught up in his story are the outsiders who should have received no mercy. Matthew is slyly pointing out that the enemy begging for mercy can be your grandmother. The one whom you might despise could be family. His point is that that we belong to one another.
Matthew’s point could be formed into a question: Does my life give any evidence of encountering God? Or does my religion spend much of its time defining who cannot participate? Friends, we must be a people of mercy toward immigrants, foreigners, outsiders, Canaanites. We very well could be related. The immigrant begging for mercy could be our grandmother. It could also be us.
I had a friend who was a Youth Pastor at a church that practiced closed communion, meaning that they only allowed Christians to partake in communion. One Sunday they asked one of their own: a faithful, elderly woman who had come to faith 15 years earlier at the church to share her testimony. She said that she showed up on Sunday having no church background whatsoever, half-drunk, and steeped in non-Christian spirituality and beliefs. It was a communion Sunday and despite being told not to come forward, because she wasn’t a Christian, came forward any way and took Communion. She recounted then how she had a divine encounter with Jesus which changed her life. I asked my friend if the pastor took that to heart and changed his understanding of communion. Nope, he said. Friends, like Jesus, we must allow the Canaanite woman to change our mind.
2. Which cry will you join: eleison or apolyson?
Identified as a foreigner, still this Canaanite woman has all the appropriate language of a true Israelite. She persistently cries out for God's mercy (the Greek imperfect underscores the repetition). We are meant to hear the language of worship and faith. 
So stretch your imaginations to entertain the scene. 

Gathered in one corner are those familiar disciples, the true blue representatives of the faithful “lost sheep of Israel”. Like a gang of watchdogs at the door they are about the checking of IDs and keeping out the foreigner.  On the other side of the fence stands this outsider, a woman no less, one lone representative pleading for mercy. No English translation can capture Matthew's careful orchestration of the painful choral refrain. “Lord, have mercy,” howls the woman. “Get rid of her,” bleat the sheep.
In the Greek their words are a rhyming and ironic echo of each other: eleison/mercy and apolyson/remove).  With dramatic effect Matthew’s film sets before us a Jesus flanked by two competing choruses: on one side one lone woman crying “kyrie eleison,” and on the other a band of bullies shouting her down with their “apolyson.” Which chorus will you join?
Too often we refuse to empathize with people whose experience is different from our own. If the oppression, injustice, or pain is not happening in our house and neighborhood or does not impact our race, gender, class, or sexuality, then we dismiss it as unwelcomed, unjustified noise. Who do you find yourself saying “apolyson” to?

3.    Jesus said, “What?”

a.    Jesus said “dog.”

Jesus’ initial response to her is a lack of one. Was it a refusal

or a test of her faith? Or, was it a hesitation as Jesus wrestles with the dissonance between the compassion awakened by the woman’s plea and the Biblical knowledge of his primary focus on Israel. Jesus then almost seems to affirm their desire to dismiss her: “I was sent only to the lost sheep of the house of Israel” (Matthew 15:24, NRSV). It only seems to get worse when he says in vs. 26, “It is not right to take the children’s bread and toss it to the dogs.” Does he mean it? Did he raise an eyebrow? Could we dare say he was playing “Devil’s advocate” like any good teacher might? These are hard questions to answer. 

In The Shawshank Redemption. Tommy Williams, an inmate at Shawshank, approaches Andy Dufresne, the protagonist, and asks for help getting his high school equivalency. Andy replies, “I don’t waste time on losers, Tommy.”
We could watch this isolated scene and imagine that Andy is a judgmental jerk, but such a description does not fit the movie’s overall depiction of him. Why then does Andy call Tommy a “loser”?  If we continue the scene, we find that Andy uses the term to test Tommy’s resolve. He wants to weigh his tenacity and the degree of his desire to complete the task ahead. Andy wants to help, but only if Tommy is truly willing to put in the effort. It was a test. Similarly, despite Jesus’ remark, he had already expressed that Gentiles would be included in God’s great banquet (Matt. 8:5-13) and was known to speak strongly to make a point (John 8:7). Will this woman likewise lean in and be tenacious?
If this is a discipleship test, who turns out to be the good disciple? The Canaanite woman who craftily accepts Jesus’ argument with a twist. Yes, she says, even if Gentiles are dogs, the dogs still have a right to be fed, even with the leftovers. In antiquity, Greeks and other Gentiles had a more familiar relationship with household pets, particularly with dogs, than did the average Jewish person, who considered dogs unclean (hence, its use for describing Gentiles). Non-Jews were known to have dogs as pets that they fed from under the table. This cultural difference might explain the woman’s response: “Yes, Lord, yet even the dogs eat the crumbs that fall from their masters’ table,” (Matthew 15:27).

The Canaanite woman’s cultural context differs from Jesus’ and she uses that to her advantage; they allow their pets to be fed while the children eat. One can feed the children and feed the pets too! You can do both, she says. And thank God for that, friends, because remember - we are Gentile dogs, as well.
I love the turnaround. It reminds me of another turnaround argued by a famous woman, Sojourner Truth who said, “Then that little man in black there, he says women can’t have as much rights as men, ‘cause Christ wasn’t a woman! Where did your Christ come from? Where did your Christ come from? From God and a woman! Man had nothing to do with Him.”
And here’s the point. The Canaanite woman wins. Jesus concedes. Jesus says, “O”

b.    Jesus said Ō

Jesus’ use of the vocative “Oh” in addressing the woman puts to rest any sense or concern about coldness; ō in the Greek is generally “used in contexts where deep emotion is to be found.” But more than mere emotion, . . .

c.     Jesus said “great.”

In Matthew's Gospel, Jesus has elsewhere chastised the “little faith” of the 12 disciples 3 times (8:26; 14:31; 16:8), but here, in the only occurrence in the whole New Testament, Jesus praises the “great faith” of this Gentile woman and commands that her plea be granted. No sooner are the words spoken than it is done. We are told that the woman's daughter is healed instantly. 
And what of us who hear this story? Can it be that its subtle reversals and surprises intend to work some transformation in our lives as well? To open us up to see the wondrously extravagant reaches of God's mercies? For surely this is the gospel's call for all Jesus' followers, confronted with the enemy-immigrant, not to assume the role of greedy bouncers at the door checking IDs, but to take our places on our knees as ones who cry for mercy with that same persistent faith that turns us around and plants us shoulder to shoulder with this woman, side by side with all the outcasts, the wounded, the hungry, the lonely, the homeless, the dogs. She is our grandmother.

Become a lowly, little one - literally! ~ Matthew 18:1-9 (Jesus Said What?! series)

18 At that time the disciples came to Jesus and asked, “Who, then, is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven?” ² He called a little child to him, and placed the child among them. ³ And he said: “Truly I tell you, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven. ⁴ Therefore, whoever takes the lowly position of this child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven. ⁵ And whoever welcomes one such child in my name welcomes me. ⁶ “If anyone causes one of these little ones—those who believe in me—to stumble, it would be better for them to have a large millstone hung around their neck and to be drowned in the depths of the sea. ⁷ Woe to the world because of the things that cause people to stumble! Such things must come, but woe to the person through whom they come! ⁸ If your hand or your foot causes you to stumble, cut it off and throw it away. It is better for you to enter life maimed or crippled than to have two hands or two feet and be thrown into eternal fire. ⁹ And if your eye causes you to stumble, gouge it out and throw it away. It is better for you to enter life with one eye than to have two eyes and be thrown into the fire of hell. ~ Matthew 18:1-9

 

In 2005 the editor of the Oxford English Dictionary gave an interview on NPR about the word “literally.” He noted that he encountered more and more people upset by the use of the word in ways like, “His head literally exploded,” when they should have used the term “figuratively.” However, rather than agree with these grammatical critics he argued that using the word “literally” to intensify statements that were themselves figurative or metaphorical has a long and esteemed history, particularly among works by authors we are often told to emulate.

He pointed out that the ground was not especially sticky in Little Women when Louisa May Alcott wrote that “The land literally flowed with milk and honey.” Tom Sawyer was not turning somersaults on piles of cash when Mark Twain described him as “literally rolling in wealth.” Jay Gatsby wasn't shining when Fitzgerald wrote that he “literally glowed.”

Well, “literally” is a word that often gets tossed around with our passage this morning, Matthew 18:1-9. What does Jesus mean when he tells us “unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom”? Should I cut off my foot or hand to keep myself from stumbling? What are we to do? Well

      1.    Take him literally! Become lowly by welcoming a child.

What’s the question of our passage? Verse one reveals it’s the disciples concern about “greatness.” A recurring question in the Gospels. One the disciples can’t seem to let go of, nor can we. “Jesus, who’s the best?” “Who’s the top disciple?” “Who is your favorite?” The Gospel of Thomas, which didn’t make it into the Bible, has the disciples ask Jesus, “We know that you will go away from us; who is it that will be great over us?’”

Jesus’ response does not replicate our sense of fame and power. He does not evoke a military conqueror, charismatic rabbi, or successful merchant, as the model for greatness.

Instead he turns to the margins, to the visual aid of a “literal” child (Matthew 18:2-5). In the ancient world, children did not signify purity and innocence. They signified powerlessness. Without Social Security or Medicare, parents cared for them, protected them, and valued them for their future economic contributions and providers of care and support for elderly parents.

Yet, they were often vulnerable and insignificant, without position or power. High infant mortality rates underscored their fragility. They were excluded from, and subject to, an adult male world. They were not ignored, unloved, and unappreciated as some have claimed. But they were not the center. And yet, Jesus takes a child, places her in the very middle of the adult disciples, and says “be like that” – literally. Jesus’ instruction to be like a child requires his followers to be re-socialized. We must unlearn cultural commitments to greatness and competition. As children we are literally to embrace a downward path marked by a lowly social location and humble social interaction.

Jesus’ comments stress that this is an activity as much as an attitude, whereby his follower “takes the lowly position” (vs. 4). It demands an action. I won’t be so silly to tell you exactly what that would be because I imagine that it will look different for many of us who find ourselves in different social settings but it must be something that you do. What will you do? And yet, Jesus does define one activity that is critically linked to “taking” the lowly position – literally welcoming a child in his name (vs. 5). This next year I believe that Jesus is calling us to accept a lowly position and welcome children in our midst. This will demand more than a mindset but action, volunteers, increased giving, etc.

I know this message about welcome is a message that you’ve already heard. If it feels too familiar, don’t blame me, blame Jesus and our stubborn hearts for needing to hear it over and over again.

Because we’ve already heard that welcome is about God’s redemptive work. That the gospel and welcome are one. We’ve already learned that when we welcome the marginal we are welcoming Jesus. We’ve already understood that we are to welcome the misfit, the mighty pain-in-the-butt BEFORE we see change.

But here’s the thing. Perhaps this is the one thing that I haven’t said enough. That we haven’t learned. It’s not comfortable. Taking the lowly position and welcoming the lowly, the lonely, the down-and-out, the dirty, the druggy, the despairing, the child, isn’t easy or romantic or thrilling. Welcoming little ones as a little one will require that you divest yourself of your own autonomy, some of your rights, some of your preferences. It will mean that you don’t necessarily get to pick, or have your way, or get what you want. Welcoming little ones from the lowly position means that you don’t come first, may not get to decide. The three-year-old does not get to determine what happens at every moment and Jesus tells us that that is the role we should take

– the lowly position. I went to the Union Gospel Mission lunch this past week with Jim Sumner and heard one person share about how he was an usher at a local church and when some men from the Mission were getting off the bus to come in found himself looking at a particular individual and thinking, “Nope! Not in my church!” Friends, to offer the welcome of the kingdom, however, is to hear Jesus tells us, “You don’t get to decide, you’re a child.” It means hearing Jesus say, “Yes, in my church.” The litmus test for how well we are doing Jesus’ kingdom ministry has everything to do with how well we treat the ones with no status. But that’s still not enough.

              2.    We literally must help others and maim ourself.

Verses 6-9 warn against causing other followers, and oneself, to stumble (Matthew 18:6, 7 [3x], 8, 9). The language of children shifts to synonyms of “littles ones” and “believers” (18:6); and the language of “life” replaces the
“kingdom of heaven” (Matthew 18:8, 9). “Stumbling” or

causing offense is the central image, repeated six times (Matthew 18:6, 7 [3x], 8, 9). The tone becomes increasingly one of dire warning. But don’t be silly. It’s literally hyperbole! It’s exaggeration to talk about consequences in the present and not simply the future. That doesn’t mean it’s not serious. Millstones and maiming are powerful metaphors but the problem isn’t that we don’t take them seriously. It’s that we misunderstand and misuse them.

Stumbling in our passage is described as two things: 1) the first is about things which cause trouble for the world and other disciples; 2) the second refers to the danger in one’s own life (marked by the use of the second person singular). Notice, however, that these are dealt with differently. The first has to do with not welcoming little ones, the lowly, the hurting. In some translations skandalizo is translated “cause to sin” but that is too specific and not the exact meaning. A better translation is “cause to lose their faith.” It’s deeply hurting a believer “in the name of Jesus.” Discipleship isn’t easy; but woe to the one who makes it harder than it should be. Stumbling, Jesus goes on to explain in vs. 10, is the product of “despising” little ones and a failure to seek them out as God does.

The second comment about stumbling has to do with a refusal to deal with sins in my own life, for which drastic measures are called for. The warning of vss. 8-9, however, is expressed in the second-person singular: it is for individual

disciples to work out for themselves where their particular danger of “stumbling” lies and to take appropriate action. Yet, we often reverse the actors. I prefer welcoming myself and maiming others. In your confrontation with sin, don’t cause someone to stumble by focusing on your own sin. How often we accuse others of causing us to stumble and want to maim them. But, we aren’t told to tie millstones around the necks of neighbors or place knives next to other’s feet or hands. 

My best friend is a surfer. One Spring he showed up in Santa Barbara with the aim of teaching me how to surf. As we sat on our boards, moving up and down with the waves, I asked him what to do if we encountered a shark. He looked at me and said, “I’m glad you asked because there is a lot of misinformation out there and people panic and often do the wrong thing.” He then said, “I often keep a small knife with me in wetsuit and if I see a shark . . .” He leaned in toward me, “I stab the guy I’m surfing with and swim for shore.” Friends, don’t be that Christian. Don’t stab another in a competition to save yourself or feel better about your own sin. Deal with your own sin ruthlessly and other’s sin carefully (Matthew 18:15-20). You are only to use the knife on yourself. Finally, . . .

      3.    Don’t be woeful. Literally be like Derek’s Dad.

I want to end with a short clip from the 1992 Olympics – the 400 meter dash and Derek Redmond, who was predicted to win. I don’t want to tell you any more than that but ask you to watch the race as a parable for how to help those who stumble and to see how God loves and cares for the broken. After our passage, Jesus goes on to tell a parable about a shepherd who leaves the flock of sheep to find the one (Matthew 18:10-14).  This is my parable for you. Watch with the "literal" eyes of faith.

Derek Redmond's Olympic Race (Click here)