The Jesus "Do-Over"

Matthew 15:21-28 (the "Message")

Once, when I was a chemical dependency counselor, client Cassie made a point I thought could be corrected. Using my best therapist logic, and being careful to choose the most acceptable way to make my point, I tried to suggest a different way to look at the situation she was describing. When I finished, she flashed me a bright smile, her eyes sparkling, and she said, “You know, you are so wise and so helpful, I love what you’ve done for me. So it just slays me when you say stupid things like that!”


* * * * *

When I listen to Jesus, frankly, I am not amused. This saying is not his finest hour. A woman has come to him with a perfectly reasonable request. She has done so at the risk of being rejected. She knows she’s not a Jew. She knows she has no rights, no standing, with this stranger/miracle worker. And she knows she has made a nuisance of herself. She’s an embarrassment to everyone there.

But she loves her daughter, she knows her daughter’s affliction, and she doesn’t care what anyone else might think of her bold maneuver to get her help. Love cancels out all other considerations. Isn’t that enough? Can’t even the most callous person understand this act and make allowances? How could Jesus act so unfeelingly? I want to reach through the pages of the Bible, grasp Jesus by the throat and shake him. “Take that back, Jesus. That’s beneath you. You are the Son of God. You came to teach us a new gospel of hope. You are recruiting people to join your kingdom. You tell us the first commandment is to love one another. You can’t mean what you just said.”

* * * * *

I pause and reflect. No, he didn’t say this. He couldn’t have. This is all a big mistake. Someone has put these words in his mouth. After all, Matthew was writing for Jewish Christians, wasn’t he? He knew how offended they would be if Jesus helped a Gentile. Didn’t Jews call them “dogs” all the time? It was as common as the “N” word once was in our mouths not that many years ago.

But can you be sure? If Jesus didn’t say it, how did it ever get put in here and not challenged centuries ago?

Theologians have wrestled with it. Bible translators struggle with it. Read a half dozen translations and notice how they try to blunt it a little. Peterson’s paraphrase takes a stab at it by suggesting Jesus was so busy, so over-worked, so preoccupied with his mission to the Jews he simply missed the anguish in the woman’s voice. Her persistent clamor went unheard by the Master. It was the disciples who finally had had enough and urged him to get rid of her.

Understandable. Possible. Yes, I could see myself acting that way if I were in that situation. But it’s a stretch. Jesus was so good at identifying needs, even before people knew they had the need. He healed a lame man who seemed less than anxious to be healed. He gave sight to a blind man who hadn’t even asked for it. He challenged a tax collector to come down out of a tree and make dinner for him, a man who certainly did not need or want the publicity. How could Jesus miss this woman’s? What excuse can he give for his actions. “I’m too busy?” Excuse me, Jesus. A request for a trophy house in Telluride, or a winning ticket in the lottery - yes, I’d say those requests can be ignored, or at least put down the list a ways - way down, actually. But a loving, despairing cry for a beloved child? No. We don’t brush that off with a peremptory shrug, and a demeaning insult to boot.

But Jesus said it, apparently, and he has to be accountable for his words.

* * * * *

In his defense, we might point out that he was speaking the truth. He was busy. He did have a big job on his hands. He wasn’t handing out Tootsie Rolls to children, or autographed pictures of himself to an adoring crowd. He was about his Father’s business, remember? That’s the way Luke would describe it in his gospel. The dispensing of the grace of God is serious stuff. It costs. His very life before it’s over. Don’t come to Jesus looking for a miracle for amusement. Andrew Lloyd-Webber has King Herod taunt Jesus with the words:

     Prove to me that you’re no fool,
     Walk across my swimming pool!

Jesus was not a carnival attraction, here to amaze us with cheap tricks. “Take me seriously” he is saying to this mother.

Here is where the rubber meets the road. Here is where the Canaanite Mother looks him square in the eye and challenges Jesus to take her seriously too. “Call me a dog if you will, I know my place. I know what I deserve. I’ll take the scraps, and willingly. But give them to me. My daughter needs them, and I’ll do anything you ask of me. Just heal her, for pity sake.”

How many times have we approached God with requests that were frivolous, half-hearted, or worse, flippant as if such requests were our right? I remember Cora (not her real name, although you wouldn’t know her real name anyway) approaching me and demanding that I pray for total healing for a sick child. Wealthy Cora, who could demand obedience from anyone she met. She paid her way. She was entitled to get whatever she wanted.

Not this Canaanite woman. She did not come to Jesus expecting to be granted her wish because of her rank and position in society. She did not “buy” her miracle with the power of her pocketbook. She knew who she was, and what she asked. She faced the master with naked honesty and integrity. We could learn a thing or two about real praying from her.

* * * * *

But there’s one thing more happening here: it’s called real faith. Really believing that God is approachable, God really cares, and that we really matter whether we’re dogs or not. I think we tend to forget this. In the hurry and scurry of our daily lives, we act as if we are either our own gods and expend boundless energy on getting our own way and doing our own thing as if God is only needed when we’ve exhausted all other human resources. Or we act as if God was running some kind of gigantic machine that moves without thought to us. We don’t count in the grander scheme of things. Our petty problems are just part of the collateral damages of a universe busily going its own way.

How many of you still give yourselves comfort with the thought that “Whatever will be will be?” “If it’s your time to go, you’ll go?” “There’s no point in pestering God with juvenile requests. God won’t listen to us anyway.” We scoff at the advice of the prophet Joel, who cried out to the people:

     Yet even now, says the LORD,
     turn back to me wholeheartedly
     with fasting, weeping, and mourning,
     Rend your hearts and not your garments,
     and turn back to the LORD your God,
     for he is gracious and compassionate,
     long-suffering and ever constant,
     ready always to relent when he threatens disaster.
     It may be he will turn back and relent
     and leave a blessing behind him. (Joel 2:12-14a REB)

Joel holds out a slim but vital hope. God is not implacable. God does relent. God has changed course before. Even when God is most enraged, yet the almighty hand of wrath has been withdrawn.

The Gospels tell us Jesus himself could change his mind. Matthew relates that, when he heard of the beheading of his cousin John the Baptist, he was so disturbed, he took his disciples and tried to withdraw into a “lonely place apart” to rest and pray. He was exhausted and struck to the heart with grief. Who could blame him for seeking such solace in silence and retreat? But when he got there, he found the crowd had already anticipated his actions and were gathered there, “a great throng”. As exhausted and grief-stricken as he was, he could not ignore them. You see his heart had gone out to them, because they were like “sheep without a shepherd”.

That’s the clincher. That’s the hope in this story. The mother’s plea was heard and answered. No matter what has happened, no matter what we may have done, no matter how undeserving we feel, ours is a God whose heart goes out to us. God can have a change of heart. Jesus may be busy, he may even be unthinking and rude (and that’s a novel thought, isn’t it?) But he can also change his mind.

I will not speculate on what God will do. The solace, the healing of God may not come in the manner we wish. But it will come.

Even Jesus can use a “do-over”, and don’t you forget it! Amen