Written on August 8, 2008

[For the August 17, 2008 lectionary: Matthew 15:(10-20) 21-28

BLAME JESUS by Larry Patten

Jesus was wrong.

According to the Gospel of Matthew, somewhere between Tyre and Sidon, a Canaanite woman confronted Jesus. She hoped he would heal her child.

He ignored her, then trivialized her, and finally belittled her. In other words, he gave her a whole trinity of indignity.

Reading Matthew 15:21-28 (or Mark’s 7:24-30 version) is breathtaking for the believer. For me, the believer and modern reader who has taught and preached this passage quite a few times, this passage is one of the most unsettling moments in the accounts of Jesus’ ministry. We have many titles and descriptions for Jesus . . . miracle-worker, Prince of Peace, the good shepherd, Lamb of God.

But the One Who Insults?

The woman was a woman! How dare she talk? She was a non-Jew. How dare she presume that Jesus the Jew would have time for her?

But she was as persistent as the Prince of Peace was callous. In fact, she was more persistent. Indeed she received, finally, Jesus’ blessing.

Why would the writers of Mark and Matthew place this scene in their “good news” about Jesus the Christ? Why would they make the Nazarene look so bad? One of my answers is: they couldn’t not put it in because it really happened. And this moment, witnessed by others, changed Jesus. Of course, my feelings are never historical facts, but why else include something so embarrassing for the one called messiah?

* * * * * *

Why help someone different from you? Why even acknowledge them?

My dog gets anxious around other dogs. She’s a seventy-five pound wimp. Often, when she’s near another dog or dogs, she will literally face away from them. If she can’t “see” them, they are not really there.

Who do you turn away from? Who is different from you that would prefer to (as Jesus did in Matthew 15:23) “not answer” at all?

Last week a woman called to seek help with a simple, backyard memorial service for her uncle. She had first contacted the church I formerly served, looking for a pastor to help. Her request was difficult to satisfy because the family wanted a Sunday morning service . . . and most clergy are a tad busy on a typical Sunday morning!

Who ya gonna call? Larry, the leave-of-absence pastor. She was referred to me. And I said, “Yes.”

As an ordained pastor in a mainline denomination, I said “Yes” to people who don’t darken the door of any church. (“We’re spiritual, but not religious,” they said.)

As a Caucasian of Anglo-European descent, I said “Yes” to an Hispanic family.

As a heterosexual, I said “Yes” to a service for a man who was homosexual.

They were different from me. Three strikes against them, right? Given the example of scripture, couldn’t I have chosen the path of ignoring, trivializing, and/or belittling them?

How could I say “Yes” with such a vast difference between us? Blame Jesus.

Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe the authors of Mark and Matthew fabricated this scene. But I believe not. I imagine these verses as the remnants of a real moment between the Nazarene and an “Other.” It was a moment of brutal honesty. And persistence. And yet, finally, faithfully, there was transformation. Jesus changed. Grew. Became different. He saw and heard where he had been blind and deaf.

Some may revel in Jesus’ “miracle” birth of Bethlehem. Some may claim Jesus was the only Son of God because God blueprinted every moment of Jesus’ life and death from the beginning. Not me.

I’ll lean my shaky, fragile faith on this scene between Tyre and Sidon.

A persistent woman helped change Mary and Joseph’s son. For me this scene reveals and confirms that Jesus’ ministry was not about starting a religion that kept some out, but engaging in relationships that welcomed. But it didn’t start out that way! Transformation can be awfully difficult.

Indeed, in all of my dealings with non-Christians, non-whites, and non-heterosexuals—all those “different” from me—I changed my attitudes or bigotry because of a relationship with a real, living, lively, equally imperfect person. And also . . . blame Jesus.

I still make endless mistakes. I am still blind and deaf on a regular basis. But, on my best days, I live between Tyre and Sidon, and I remember that there, once, a woman came to Jesus.

And he changed. Even me.

in Peace,

Larry