Every Sunday, somewhere in the world, maybe even here at Rutgers, someone walks into a church who has never been before. Someone who was raised in a different faith. Or someone whose family had other things to do on Sunday. Maybe they have entered the church out of curiosity, or from yearning for something different in life. Perhaps they're grieving and heard going to church might help.
This person who has never been to church has doubtless, though, heard something about Jesus. Perhaps she's heard that Jesus was a great teacher of ethics and wisdom. Perhaps he's heard that Jesus was kind and gentle and loved children. Or that Jesus was the Son of God, perfect and without sin. I wonder what it must be like for that person—that person who has come to church for the first time on the Sunday that we read the story of Jesus and the Canaanite woman.
A story where Jesus first ignored and then was downright rude to a woman in desperate need. A woman whose daughter was in pain. A woman who addresses Jesus respectfully as Lord, Son of David. A woman who Jesus, in turn, compares to a dog, along with her people. This Jesus is not a teacher of ethics. In fact, this name-calling seems pretty unethical. This Jesus is not kind, willing to let the daughter—perhaps a child—suffer. He hardly seems to be one without sin. The woman does persuade Jesus to heal her daughter, but it's hard to dismiss those shocking, even scandalous remarks. Is this the Jesus that Christians worship?
This scripture may also disturb those of us who have been to church many times. We preach over and over again that Jesus ministered to outcasts: the poor, tax collectors, sinners. We speak of the love Jesus had for everyone, and as his followers we try to be welcoming to all. This Jesus who compares the Canaanites to dogs is not the Jesus we preach. These words are also surprising, and scandalous, to us.
The disciples, and the early followers of Jesus, would also have been surprised and scandalized. However, they most likely would have been scandalized by the healing, not the words. After all, the woman was a Canaanite, and the Canaanites were historical enemies of Israel. The Canaanites had their own gods—or at least their own idols. God was the God of Israel, the people of the covenant. In the ancient world, this belief would not have seemed "exclusive." Gentiles of all stripes understood that peoples had their gods, and gods had their peoples. Jews also believed God was creator of the universe, and in scripture there's strong testimony to God's love for all families of the earth and of God's justice and mercy to the nations. But the disciples would have agreed with Jesus that he was sent for the lost sheep of Israel. And they might have thought the remark about dogs was pretty clever.
But then Jesus surprises them. He allows the woman to change his mind and heals her daughter. How does she do it? Jesus says it's not fair to give the children's food to dogs—for then, it goes without saying, there would not be enough for the children. The woman answers: "Even the dogs eat the crumbs under the master's table." She doesn't claim that Canaanites are just as good as the people of Israel. She doesn't argue that Canaanites are children of God, too. She says she'll take the crumbs. And maybe—maybe that reminded Jesus of the five thousand people he had just fed with five loaves and two fishes. Perhaps she reminded Jesus of the twelve baskets of broken pieces, the twelve baskets of crumbs, left over. There had been enough. Enough and then some. Jesus answered her, "Woman, great is your faith!" Great was her faith that there was enough. Enough of God's mercy for her and the children of Israel. (Greater perhaps at the moment, than his own!) So Jesus heals the daughter of the Canaanite woman.
There are many reasons why we live as a divided people, separated by race, by class, by gender. There are many reasons why white people oppress people of color, why men keep women in their place, why the rich exploit the poor. But surely one of the most powerful is fear. Fear there won't be enough. Fear there won't be enough jobs. Fear there won't be enough land. Fear there won't be enough oil. Fear there won't be enough places in the best universities or apartments in the best neighborhoods. So those who have find reasons to exclude those who have less, or have not.
Fear there won't be enough also lies behind our weak and timid commitment to change that. In this case it's fear there won't be enough time, or resources, or people power or energy to address all the issues—that we've got to pick and choose. Include some and exclude others. So in the church, the larger church, people argue that we shouldn't be focusing on, say, the gay and lesbian issue when so many people are dying of AIDS around the world. Or that we can't address poverty abroad while so many are still homeless in our own cities. Or that the struggle for gender equality can't be front and center while racism remains such an intractable evil. Or that all other issues pale in comparison to the environmental disaster that's looming before us. So we perform a kind of triage, ranking evils and trying not to feel overwhelmed. And often we end up not doing very much at all.
The Canaanite woman reminds us, and Jesus, that there is enough for all. That in God's mercy, in God's justice, and in God's love there is no ordering of least to greatest, no including of some and excluding of others. There's a wideness in God's mercy like the wideness of the sea. The love of God is broader than the measures of the mind. There's enough for the Canaanite and the Israelite, and we are called to testify that God's mercy extends to everyone. Of course no one person, or one congregation, can attend every rally or fill every need or become an expert on every issue. Discernment and saying no are secrets to hanging in for the long haul. But we can trust that as the whole church of Jesus Christ, we don't have to leave anyone outside of our concern. We don't have to exclude any issue, or need, or injustice. We can trust that God will give us what we need to witness to the wideness of God's mercy.
Matthew says that after Jesus healed the daughter, he went up the mountain, where he sat down. Great crowds came to him, bringing with them the lame, the maimed, the blind, the mute and many others. And Jesus cured them. All of them. And then, just in case we still don't get it, or just in case Jesus still didn't get it, Matthew tells us that Jesus called his disciples to him. That he looked at the crowd with compassion, and did not want to send them away hungry. So, this time with 7 loaves and a few small fish, Jesus feeds four thousand men, beside women and children. And there were seven baskets full of crumbs left over.
As we come to the table this morning, let us remember that in God there is enough. Enough bread, enough mercy, enough justice, enough love for all God's children in all of God's creation.