Bonnie Taylor’s Sermon – 2/22/2015
Matthew 15:21-18
A Desperate Cry
“Give a father no options and you leave him no choice.”
That’s the tagline for the movie, John Q, starring Denzel Washington. John Quincy
Archibald and his wife, Denise, are attending their son Michael’s baseball game. As Michael
rounds the first base and heads for second, he grabs his chest and collapses. John rushes Michael
to a hospital emergency room where, after a series of tests, he’s informed that Michael has an
enlarged heart and will need a transplant. It’s his only hope. Unfortunately, the company where
John works has cut his hours back to part-time and changed his medical benefits. John's new
policy doesn’t cover his son's transplant.
Desperate and out of options, but unwilling to see his only child die, John decides it’s
time to take drastic measures. John walks into the hospital emergency room with a handgun and
begins a hostage situation. His only demand—that his son’s name be put on a transplant
recipient’s list as soon as possible.
A desperate parent taking desperate measures, that’s what we find in our New Testament
text today. Please turn with me to the gospel of Matthew, chapter 15, verses 21-28 found on
page 17 in the New Testament section of your pew bibles.
Read Matthew 15:21-28
Unlike the movie John Q, in this text it’s not a desperate father, but a desperate mother
who encounters Jesus. Our text opens with Jesus and the disciples near the coastal towns of Tyre
and Sidon in Gentile territory. More than likely, they walked in that direction to escape the
exhausting press of the crowds who had come to know Jesus as a rabbi and miracle worker.
Maybe they were also hoping to get some distance from the constant criticism of the Jewish
authorities. Here, out on the fringe, maybe they could enjoy some anonymity and catch their
breath.
But Jesus’ reputation precedes them. Now, instead of a Jewish throng crowding in on
them, they’re buttonholed by the demands of a noisy Canaanite woman. This is a dramatic
confrontation and neither Jesus nor the disciples like it at all.
“Have mercy on me, Lord, Son of David; my daughter is tormented by a demon,” she
cries over and over and over again. The Greek word the author chooses to describe her cries is
the same word used in Revelation to describe the cries of a woman in the throws of labor pains.
Like when she gave birth to her now afflicted daughter, this mother is crying out in painful
anticipation and hope that Jesus, the Lord and Messiah, will release both her and her child from
their misery into freedom and light.
But the disciples can’t hear that. All they know is that they can’t stand her persistent
screaming any longer. Not only is she annoying, causing a scene when all they want is a little R
& R, but she’s clearly asking for something she’s not entitled to. She’s a Canaanite Pagan after
all, an ancient enemy of Israel. The very touch of her would make them unclean. Why would
she expect mercy and healing from rabbi Jesus? Who does she think she is, this unaccompanied
women approaching them in such a public way? How improper!
“Send her away, Jesus, any way that you can. She’s an embarrassment.”
But the woman persists even in the face of insult. She can do no other. The stakes are
too high. Her daughter’s life is on the line. She isn’t begging for herself after all, she’s crying
out for her child and she knows that Jesus is the only one who can save her.
Jesus doesn’t send her away. He remains silent at first. And then he makes a comment.
We don’t know if he’s speaking to the disciples or to the woman or both, but he states, “I was
sent only to the lost sheep of the house of Israel.” Insinuating, not to you or any other Gentile
like you!
It’s at this point that the woman falls on her knees before Jesus, and whispers her begging
prayer, “Lord, help me.”
Jesus looks down and says, “It’s not fair to take the children’s food and throw it to the
dogs.”
She looks up. “Yes Lord, but even the dogs eat the crumbs that fall from their master’s
table.”
Unlike the others who have pressed Jesus in the crowds before, this woman truly knows
who he is. She knows that he’s no generic messiah or traveling wonder worker like others
who’ve worked their way through her town before. He’s the Messiah of Israel, the Son of the
one true God, and she’s banking on her belief that he’ll be faithful to who he really is. That as he
redeems and provides for the children of God, the people of Israel, he’ll also care for the other
members of God’s household.
If he sees her as a dog, she’ll be a dog. She’s not too proud to take Jesus on his own
terms. She’ll do whatever it takes to secure healing and deliverance for her child. At least as a
dog, she’s under his roof and near to his table. She’ll take whatever Jesus wants to give her in
any way he wants to give it to her. In her desperation she’s found room for faith, and that faith
has revealed Jesus as her master and Messiah too.
I can relate to desperate parents, and I know that many of you sitting here today can too.
Chris has shared our family’s odyssey through the violence of Columbine from this pulpit, but
each one of you has a story of your own as well. At one point or another, we all encounter
situations in our own lives, and the lives of those we love, that are bigger than any human ability
to fix them. We can feel helpless and angry at our limitations. As for me, I know what it feels
like to experience such despair regarding my child’s future that I’d be tempted to commit
dangerous acts like John Q. I’ve walked in the shoes of the Canaanite woman when she shouted
and screamed and humiliated herself just to get someone to listen. And, I’ve raised a ruckus,
created chaos and made people uncomfortable trying to find some relief for my child’s pain.
It’s difficult to watch your children suffer for any reason, even when the suffering is a
consequence of their own poor choices. But it’s unbearable when it seems to be imposed by a
cruel twist of fate.
I think that’s the state the Canaanite woman found herself in when she heard that Jesus
was in her village. There are times when our hearts can be so full of fear, anxiety, and anger for
the ones we love that we are literally beside ourselves. We have done everything we know how
to do and then some, but as frail human beings we are powerless to do what only God can.
That’s the kind of desperation that can bring humility when the Holy Spirit gets involved.
And that kind of humility can make space for faith. When we come to the place where we know
that we are not God, and that everything we’ve tried has failed-- the fog begins to lift and the
illusion of control starts to dissipate. Then we find ourselves on our knees like that Canaanite
woman, looking up into the face of the one who loves us all most and best and seeing that Jesus
is our Messiah too.
I wish I could stand here and tell you that my desperate faith brought about instant
healing, an instant fix, for our family like that experienced by the Canaanite woman’s daughter.
But that would be a lie.
What I can tell you is that each member of our family has found a savior in Jesus. Not
just the big guy in the sky, but a real true personal Messiah who has walked every step of every
mile of this long journey to wholeness and healing with each one of us as individuals. That
God’s love is big enough to encompass whatever cruel twist of fate that may come your way, and
specific enough to be Immanuel, God with you, wherever you may find yourself at this very
moment. That’s the grace found in Jesus’ encounter with the Canaanite woman. That’s the good
News of the gospel revealed in Jesus Christ for all of us here today.