Crumbs of Blessing
17-Aug-08
Bethel UMC – 9:30 AM; Brooks Chapel UMC – 11:00 AM
Matthew 15.21-28
Wednesday evening, the youth group met at Bethel. Since Amber had a previous engagement, she had asked if I could do their lesson for that night. I gladly said yes, and when I showed up on the day of the meeting I was prepared to give what I hoped would be a pretty good lesson. But I was the one who ended up being taught.
I was sharing the story of Jesus feeding the five thousand from five loaves of bread and two fish that a young boy had shared. One of the kids asked, “Why, if he had five loaves, did he only have two fish?” I just sat there for a second, wondering why I had never made such an astute observation. But before I could say anything, another one of the youth incisively replied, “Maybe he wasn’t a very good fisherman.”
I have shared with you before that I am not a very good fisherman. But it is not merely because I lack the skill to do it (though that may be part of the problem); I am not a very good fisherman because I lack the patience that the sport requires. I do not possess the stick-to-itiveness to sit there and wait for a fish to bite. Perhaps I would enjoy fishing more if I could actually go grab the fish in order to catch it. If I could pursue my aquatic prey, then maybe I would get into it a little more. Maybe the little boy felt the same way. Maybe that is why he did not have more fish. Maybe two was all he could stand to wait for.
But today’s Gospel story is not one of waiting (at least not in the sense of just sitting back and doing nothing); rather, it is one of pursuit. It is one of a woman—but more than that, a mother—who knew what she had need of, and knew Jesus alone could provide for that need. So she refused to give up until she got what she came for.
As the tale opens, Jesus is retreating from the crowds—much like we saw him do at the beginning of last week’s text. He is heading away from the masses for some private time. But he does not get very far before he is approached by a frantic Canaanite woman; evidently, she had seen Jesus passing by and ran out to where he was. She must have still been at a bit of a distance from him, for the Bible tells us that she was “…shouting, ‘Have mercy on me, Lord, Son of David; my daughter is tormented by a demon” (Matthew 15.22, NRSV).
One thing I notice in this opening petition is that she calls for Jesus to “have mercy” on her. Her initial request was simply for compassion—for sympathy or pity. What she was asking was for Jesus to consider her plight—what it was she was dealing with. Sometimes, we do not feel like we actually need assistance or aid in the midst of the trials we face. Sometimes that is not even what we want. Rather, we just want to know that someone cares enough to say, “I understand.” So she calls to Jesus, hoping he might show some concern for her child’s well being—and her own.
But the response from Christ is actually not a response at all. He says nothing. He does nothing. He just continues on his way, as if he had not even heard her desperate plea. This is truly uncharacteristic of the Jesus we know. Jesus was one who typically answered folks before they called, or heard while they were yet speaking. But he refrains from any such action with this woman. Why?
I cannot say for sure, but I strongly believe that Jesus was doing something that he did often and well: testing her faith. If you remember, last week I said that when Jesus is present in a situation, we can expect our faith to be tried. This was (and is) Jesus’ M.O.; he is constantly putting the faith of those who claim to be his followers through the wringer, to see how it holds up. In this way, he is able to see who truly has their heart set on him. But what is more, we are able to see for ourselves if Jesus really is our greatest desire. This particular woman had a dire need—it was for her child to be made whole. But was her need for Christ greater? We find out as we read on.
The disciples told Jesus to “send her away…” (Matthew 15.23, NRSV); they were annoyed by her very presence, and especially by her bugging Jesus with her concerns. I cannot help but laugh at what the disciples say in verse twenty-three, though; they say: “…she keeps shouting after us” (NRSV). Us? Really? Because I did not notice her asking the disciples for a thing. All I saw was her calling out for Jesus. She did not even waste her time on them, because she knew that it was not from them that her blessing would come. This tells me that we need to have a discerning spirit regarding who we carry our burdens to, and to whom we go when a crisis arises. She went to the right one, yet the disciples—somewhat arrogantly—felt that she was being bothersome to them. What a bunch of knuckleheads.
Now Jesus does not respond to what the disciples said about this woman, but he does finally turn and speak to her. And when he does, he confers his blessing right? He answers her request and sends her merrily on her way, does he not? No, he does not. In fact, he here makes it seem like her supplication is a lost cause. Basically, he says, “I wasn’t sent to you; it’s neither for you nor your people that I have come.”
But this simply is not good enough for the woman. A person with less resolve might have thrown in the towel here; just given up and walked away. But instead, “…she came and knelt before him, saying, ‘Lord, help me’” (Matthew 15.25, NRSV).
If you remember, her previous request was for mercy. She wanted clemency—perhaps to know that Jesus could relate to how she felt. But now—now she wants help. Now the hour has grown late, and she recognizes that her need is indeed ominous and dismal. She knows she cannot leave this place—she cannot let this encounter pass—without receiving from Jesus the assurance that her precious child would be cured. She bows her tear-streaked face to the ground, trembling as she waits for the Messiah’s answer.
“Jesus thou art all compassion” goes the lyric from a well-known Wesleyan hymn. Would we not expect him to show it here? Certainly. But instead, he answers her in a way that seems cold and callous. It seems as if he does not care about her or her sickly daughter in the least. In all of Christ’s recorded ministry, we do not find him meeting a petition in such a manner as he does in what he says next. For he responds, “It is not fair to take the children’s food and throw it to the dogs” (Matthew 15.26, NRSV).
Ouch! That really is a scathing remark—an insult, really—that seems intent to remove even the slightest glimmer of hope that Jesus would assist this Gentile woman. Of course, no animal was held in lower regard by the Jews than swine; they were totally unclean and should never be touched. But dogs were not seen very positively, either. Even today, if you called someone a dog, it could be taken quite offensively—depending on whom you said it to and how you said it. Jesus, here, seems to be illustrating a point: that one who is not of the family cannot expect to eat the children’s bread; one who is outside the banquet hall cannot expect the same portion as one who is inside.
It would have been easy for this woman to become angry here. Many of us would have. Either that, or we would have defended ourselves. But she was humble. And her soul was believing. So she continued to persist; she continued to pray. “Yes, Lord,” she says, “yet even the dogs eat the crumbs that fall from their master’s table” (Matthew 15.27, NRSV). It was not until I read through this text for this particular message that I noticed how every time this woman pleads with Jesus, she calls him “Lord.” In this, she is resolute in her belief that Jesus is not only the master—he is her master. She concedes to the notion that—dog though she may be—still, she is his.
Where do dogs generally sit when their master is dining? Why, right there tableside of course. They watch and wait, hoping that something will fall from their master’s plate onto the floor. There, they can snatch it up—and be filled. This woman was not asking for much—she was not asking for a four-course meal; she was not even asking for the children’s food. All she wanted—all she needed—were some crumbs. Because crumbs from the master’s table are far better than a feast anywhere else. Seeing that she had not wavered, “Jesus answered her, ‘Woman, great is your faith! Let it be done for you as you wish’” (Matthew 15.28, NRSV). And we know what happened then: the Canaanite woman’s daughter was healed.
If I were to characterize this woman’s actions in one word, it would be perseverance. She was not pushy, but she kept on seeking what it was she had to have—especially since she was cognizant that Jesus was the source from which her fulfillment would emanate. She sought what she needed until she got it. Should we not all be this way? I believe we should, for it demonstrates our faith in God who provides. But instead, we pray about something once—maybe twice—and expect God to drop it into our laps without extending any real effort on our parts. Then, whether what we have prayed for comes or not, we give up. Football would be an easy game if the players could stand still and have the goal come to them—would it not? But that is not how the game is played. It is the opposite of fishing. It is not sedentary. The players do not wait for stuff to happen. They charge forward, pursuing what they desire. In moving forward, they come closer and closer to victory.
Our spiritual lives are the same way. We need to pray continually until we receive a response from God, even if it is not the response we were looking for. We must ask, seek, and knock until we get a word from him. That is not to say we have license to be demanding. And to be sure, we have to first and foremost align our prayers with what God wants for our lives. But once we do that, and we are convinced that we are praying inside of his will, we need to have the confidence and boldness—the faith—to tell whatever mountain that is before us to be removed and cast into the sea.
The lesson we can take from this Canaanite woman is to pray with the three ps: purpose, patience, and persistence (explain each). We all need to learn to do this: to talk with God like we truly believe that he is in the business of hearing and answering prayers. If we seek him half-heartedly, what can we expect besides a half-hearted reply? “With my whole heart have I sought thee” (Psalm 119.10, KJV) writes the Psalmist; therefore, beloved, let us strive to keep on praying—not turning aside from what we need or what we desire until, at last, the crumbs of blessing begin to fall.
