Earnestly Seeking Him - Matthew 15.21-28

Our text for this day, from the 15^th chapter of Matthew’s gospel, begins, “Leaving that place, Jesus withdrew . . .”  Obviously, we’re starting out in the middle of a story.  What place? Why withdraw?  Often we overlook such questions in the interest of getting on with the passage at hand.  But this time the story – or really the succession of stories – leading up to our story really matters.

By way of introduction: I recall an awful day during our stay in Chad.  Some strangers came to our house with news.  Our missionary colleagues across the border in Cameroon, Ernest and Miriam Erickson, had been brutally, even sadistically, murdered.  So what do you do, after hearing such news, just go back to what you were doing?  We headed out for Cameroon. 

Matthew 14 tells how John the Baptist’s disciples came to Jesus with the horrific account of their master’s murder - beheaded at the hands of King Herod.  It says, “When Jesus heard what had happened, he withdrew by boat privately to a solitary place.”  It looks like they needed to get away. 

But it wasn’t to be.  The crowds heard where he had gone and followed on foot, and when Jesus and his group landed, they were there waiting.  It says, he had compassion on them and healed their sick.  That evening he and the disciples set a meal for 5000.  They crossed the lake during the night, only to be recognized the next morning on the other side, and the cycle repeats.  Jesus leaves that place, and – at last - they manage to get away, to the Gentile region of Tyre and Sidon.  And our story begins, Matthew 15.21

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 suffering terribly from demon-possession.”

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 their dogs.”

²⁷ “Yes, Lord,” she said, “but even the dogs eat the crumbs that fall from their masters’ table.”

²⁸ Then Jesus answered, “Woman, you have great faith! Your request is granted.” And her daughter was healed from that very hour.

A strange story, strange from the start.  Jesus and disciples escaping - withdrawing to Gentile country, away from the Jewish multitudes.

²² A Canaanite woman from that vicinity came to him, crying out, “Lord, Son of David, have mercy on me! My daughter is suffering terribly from demon-possession.”

To our very great surprise, or at least my very great surprise, Jesus says not a word.  If we don’t know what to make of it, the disciples didn’t either. 

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.”

At least they could see that if something wasn’t done and soon, they’d have yet another repetition of yesterday and the day before.  Better send her away.

When finally Jesus speaks, it’s to his disciples, not the woman.  He answered, “I was sent only to the lost sheep of Israel.”   Not: I won’t because I’m tired; not: because she’s unclean.  Rather “I was sent only to the lost sheep of Israel.”  It recalls his instructions to them as they went out on their first ministry trip “Do not go among the Gentiles or enter any town of the Samaritans.  Go rather to the lost sheep of Israel.  Just to the lost sheep of Israel, he tells them.  To the woman he says nothing at all.

Putting it mildly, that’s not what we’ve come to expect from Jesus.  How to understand this?  First, a few facts.  This translation has her calling him Lord, but the word could just as well be rendered sir - a respectful form of address, but not necessarily much more.  Son of David?  That one was a puzzler.  He was indeed that, but he wasn’t that to her.  Like a neighbor’s kid calling me dad.  Tyre and Jerusalem had been at odds throughout their long history as neighbors, and often the bitterest of enemies.  It’s possible, of course, she’s just latching on to something she’s heard, groping for something appropriate when she hasn’t a clue as to how he’d be properly addressed.  At any rate, it certainly implied a relationship that didn’t exist, using a title appropriate enough for Jesus, but to which she had no right.  Could that explain at all Jesus’ reserve?  (Interesting at least that she drops it the next time she speaks.)

“Lord, have mercy on me!”  Would you think, at least she’d have that much claim on Jesus?  Obviously, mercy you have a right to is a contradiction in terms – but she isn’t insisting on a right, she’s pleading.

²⁵ The woman came and knelt before him. “Lord, help me!” she said.

And Jesus finally breaks his silence with her.  He replied, “It is not right to take the children’s bread and toss it to their dogs.”  You could wonder if that was any more encouraging than his silence.  It wouldn’t have landed on her ears quite the way it lands on ours.  We have only one word for dog, so the ferocious animal roaming the streets and the beloved household pet have to bear the same label.  Back then they had a wider choice of terms, and the one used here was the household pet.  (When the Jews characterized the Gentiles as dogs – which they sometimes did in the sense of “those dirty dogs” they used a different term entirely.)  Still, if it wasn’t a gross insult to the woman, neither could it have been much of a boost to the self-esteem.  And she wouldn’t be much comforted to learn that the healing grace that she needed and wanted so badly was reserved for others.

How are we to understand this passage?  First, if we’re going to be shocked, let’s at least make sure we’re shocked at the right things.  If we picture Jesus as someone who went around doing good, we’re right – more or less.  Indeed there’s a verse that says precisely that.  But if we picture him as the sort who lets other people set his agenda because he can’t say no, then we’re way off. 

Jesus had an agenda.  He had a plan to his ministry.  If it’s not obvious to us, it’s partly because, in our studying the gospel passages individually and microscopically, we tend to lose the big picture – and especially we often lose the transitions from scene to scene.  The next chapter for example:

²⁰ Then he warned his disciples not to tell anyone that he was the Christ.

²¹ From that time on Jesus began to explain to his disciples that he must go to Jerusalem and suffer many things

There’s a relationship there , and a progression.  He tells his mother, don’t force me into action – my time has not yet come.  Sometimes he’d tell someone he’d healed, don’t say a word about this.  Sometimes he seemed to seek out crowds, and other times he withdraws from them.  But in all of it he had a mission to accomplish, and he maintained control of what he did, and when.

The woman here was asking for deliverance for her daughter, from demon possession.  Was that on Jesus’ agenda?  According to 1 John 3.8, The reason why the Son of God appeared was to destroy the devil’s work.  But, as we said, Jesus’ agenda wasn’t just a question of what he would do, but also when, and – seemingly – to whom.  “I was sent only to the lost sheep of the house of Israel.”  Note: he says I was sent, not I am going.  He wasn’t doing his own will.  He had a mission to accomplish to do the Father’s will, according to the Father’s plan.

Remember the line from Fiddler on the Roof?  Tevye prays, Lord who made the lion and the lamb, you decreed I should be what I am.  Would it spoil some vast eternal plan if I were a wealthy man?  You could imagine the Canaanite woman asking, would it spoil some vast eternal plan, for you to leave your Israelite sheep for a while and come to our village?  To which the answer might in fact have been yes.  There was a vast eternal plan for the salvation of all who’d believe, Jew and Gentile alike, through the power of the gospel of Jesus Christ.  Paul tells the Romans

¹⁶ I am not ashamed of the gospel, because it is the power of God for the salvation of everyone who believes: first for the Jew, then for the Gentile.

And he spends three of the deepest and most difficult chapters in the whole Bible, explaining.  At the end of which he praises the God whose ways are unsearchable.  “Who has known the mind of the Lord?”  But you’d have to say, the Canaanite lady caught a glimpse of it.  And picking up Jesus’ own image, she completes the thought.  “Yes, Lord,” she said, “but even the dogs eat the crumbs that fall from their masters’ table.”

Yes, Lord, the dogs don’t snatch food from the children’s plate.  Yes, it isn’t right for the children to go hungry so that the dogs can be fed.  She humbles herself before God’s vast eternal plan.  Yes, to the Jew first.  But also to the Greek!

“Yes, Lord,” she said, “but even the dogs eat the crumbs that fall from their masters’ table.”

Especially where food is eaten with the fingers, a fair amount is going to find its way to the floor.  The dogs are welcome, but they wait their turn.

²⁸ Then Jesus answered, “Woman, you have great faith! Your request is granted.” And her daughter was healed from that very hour.

There are two people in the gospel accounts of whom it’s said, Jesus found their faith remarkable.  This lady is one, and the other is a centurion whose story’s told in Luke 7.  Their stories differ in some ways, and yet are remarkably similar.  Both are Gentiles, and both come to Jesus for physical healing of someone near and dear.  An interesting difference between the two: When this woman approached Jesus, the disciples said, send her away.  When the centurion approached Jesus, the Jews told Jesus, he deserves your help, he’s a great friend of our people.  But the centurion himself made no such claim.  He said, I’m not worthy that you come to my house.  But you’ve got authority, you don’t need to come.  Just say the word and it will be done.  And that is faith.  To approach God humbly, admitting unworthiness, but recognizing his grace and mercy, and believing that he wants to help.  The Hebrews author says, “Without faith it is impossible to please God, because anyone who comes to him must believe that he exists, and that he rewards those who earnestly seek him.”

This likely didn’t start out one of your favorite passages from the gospels, and I can’t say that it’s become one of mine.  But I’m glad it’s in there.  Because if all the encounters with God that we read about in the Bible were neat and clean and predictable, what would we conclude when ours were otherwise?  What would I conclude if it were only to my prayer that God seemed to be turning a deaf ear?

As we said, it isn’t often that we read of Jesus’ being impressed with someone’s faith.  More often it’s the opposite situation (marveling at lack of faith).  What was remarkable about this woman’s faith?  Bringing her daughter for healing certainly suggests some.  But then, there were thousands who were doing that.  It doesn’t take much faith to grasp at straws when you’re as desperate as she was.

Imagine yourself in the place of the lady, faced with Jesus’ initial silence, and the attempt of his helpers to shoo you away – what would you have done?  I can hear myself saying, I was hoping you could do something for my daughter – but I seem to come at a bad time.  “Thy will be done.”  Sorry to bother you.  I’m not sure if you’d call that faith.  Maybe it’s submission to God’s will, maybe it’s just giving up.

There’s a parable of Jesus’ that Luke introduces this way: Then Jesus told his disciples a parable to show them that they should always pray and not give up.  Faith is persistent.  It doesn’t just give up.  And our lady from Tyre wouldn’t give up.  Seems like she wouldn’t take no for an answer. 

Is that the prayer of faith, though, just refusing to take no for an answer?  The resumé gets rejected, run it through again?  Look again at the lady: she expected great things from Jesus, and she was persistent.  But, at the same time she was willing to humble herself, and submit to God’s vast eternal plan.

It’s in the nature of vast eternal plans that we don’t understand them.  Indeed, we often don’t understand even what’s best for us, to say nothing of best for the whole world.  But still, God invites us to come boldly with our needs, expecting good things from our heavenly Father, to be persistent, and to be open to guidance.  Our lady from Tyre was persistent, but at the same time she really listened to Jesus, she didn’t just keep blindly parroting her request.

Who, or what, is on your prayer list?  You’re invited – encouraged - to bring these needs before the Lord as the Canaanite woman brought her daughter.  She came expectantly, she came humbly.  Not easily put off, when at first her entreaty didn’t seem to be getting very far.  And her prayer was answered and family’s need was met.  It’s obvious from the Bible, God rewards those who diligently seek him - who are willing to hang in there, and struggle in prayer.  May God work that grace in us as we intercede - praying for people, praying for ministries, praying for our hurting world.

            Songs appropriate to Lent are, often, about a wonderful man unjustly executed – in fact most brutally murdered.  You’d expect something dirge-like, and it’s remarkable how many of them are anything but.  What dirge has a chorus beginning How Wonderful! How Marvelous!?  No, the message of the cross is good news.  Our communion hymn has our Savior sweating drops of blood.  Not a happy scene.  But it was for us, and we sing it as joyful praise.