Trinity 11
FINDING A VOICE
The Eleventh Sunday after Trinity
20 August, 2023
St Bene’t’s, Cambridge
8am & 10am
The Reverend Dr Matt Bullimore
Chaplain, Corpus Christi College
Romans 11.1–2, 29–32; Matthew 15.10–28
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This is good Paul logic this morning. Has God rejected his own people? By no means. Were the Gentiles once disobedient? Yes they were. What happened to the Gentiles when God’s people were being disobedient? God poured out his mercy on the Gentiles. So what will now happen to God’s people? They will receive God’s mercy, of course. Or, put it this way, says Paul, all have been disobedient – and all will therefore receive God’s mercy. Whatever we do, God makes it an occasion of mercy.
God is always more than a match for human sinfulness. To claim otherwise is idolatry, making sin bigger than God. And God has a mercy so abundant, no sin, no failure, can compete.
We then heard about one of Jesus’ disputes with the Pharisees. Jesus explains that it’s not what you eat that defiles you, it’s what comes out of your mouth: the slander, the gossip, the unkindness. That defiles you. Someone in the crowd helpfully points out that this has annoyed the Pharisees, who spend a lot of time explaining to people what the Law says they should and shouldn’t put in their mouths. Jesus is dismissive. The blind leading the blind. Listen, Jesus says, forget what you eat and excrete. Think about the intentions of the heart which inevitably end up coming out as evil actions. That’s what matters. Jesus goes to the heart of the Law, even as he relativises its particular prescriptions.
It's a bit of a surprise, therefore, is it not, when we come to the next episode with the Canaanite woman. In fact, shocking. That Jesus should so uncompromisingly affirm the supremacy of God’s people, their priority, and so utterly dismiss any Gentile claim to God’s mercy or, indeed, to Jesus’ ministry.
The Canaanite woman comes to him, a Jew, a Son of David, and calls him Lord. She comes to him with respect, she humbles herself. He is a Jew, a man, a teacher. Sir, help my daughter, she is possessed.
He ignores her. His silence stretches out. It’s awkward. The woman, however, does not remain silent. She raises her voice. She shouts at him some more. She starts to run round the disciples, tugging on their clothes, remonstrating with them. Jesus is silent. The disciples ask him to send her away. He addresses them. Not her. I came for the lost sheep of the house of Israel.
Desperate, she throws herself at his feet. Help me, Lord.
I’m not taking the food for God’s children and throwing it to the dogs. It’s a racial slur. Dogs are what the Judaeans call the Gentiles. The dismissal is absolute.
And she answers him. She looks up and pushes the analogy. But the dogs eat the crumbs that fall from the master’s table. She begs him for his mercy, yes. But she also finds her voice. She intuits the universal reach of God’s mercy. And she claims it.
And Jesus looks straight at her now: Woman, great is your faith. Magnificent is your trust in our God. It is done for you just as you have asked. Her daughter is healed.
It is shocking. Not only that but Jesus shows himself not just to be ethnocentric but racist. Patriarchal too, ignoring this woman entirely at the start of the exchange. It’s no surprise, therefore, that we sometimes hear from commentators that this is a turning point in Jesus’ ministry. The moment he changes his mind. It’s a parable for the church today. That we should look to ourselves and recognize our complicity in patriarchy, colonial racism and our love of power over others. It’s a parable of our need of penitence and self-recognition.
Well, yes. This is true of the church. We need to recognise our disobedience if we are to receive mercy. And how shall we share God’s mercy with others if we refuse to see our disobedience or see their worthiness in God’s eyes?
But where do we learn the mercy of God? Because if it is not from Jesus then where? If we can’t have faith in Jesus to show us God’s love then we have a problem.
We remember, of course, that Jesus has already healed the servant of a centurion a couple of chapters back, noting that many will come from east and west and eat with Abraham and Isaac and Jacob in the kingdom of heaven.
And with that endorsement of the Gentiles’ invitation to share the Kingdom, we now find Jesus deep into Gentile territory. An odd place to go for one so set on converting only the heart of Israel.
Something else is afoot here. Jesus has already shown a marked interest in the Gentiles. He has travelled to see them. And even should he follow the logic of ‘to the Jew first and then the Gentile’, should he want to show that he is the Messiah of Israel and heir of David, nevertheless – here he is in Gentile territory.
Jesus’ ignoring of the woman brings about the occasion for us to hear her voice. First, she comes in supplication. And then her volume increases. And then the intensity of the supplication. And after his dismissal, then she really finds her voice. She refuses to be put down. She claims God’s mercy. Jesus does not give it to her by some patrician and patronizing wave of the hand. He wants her to own it, to ask for it, to claim it. He wants it to be about her agency, her voice, her faith. And she does not disappoint.
Jesus is exuberant in his praise for her. Her faith is strong. And she has taught us that a share in God’s Kingdom is not about race or sexual difference or power. It’s about trust in God’s mercy, which is more than a match for our propensity to divide and put down.
She teaches us to trust in a mercy which transforms and heals. She shows us how to seek, ask, beseech God for the mercy that he longs to give. She demonstrates that Jesus gives us a voice and longs to hear it. So let us ask for it. Let us claim it. For we know we need it. Let us trust in God’s overwhelming mercy. And he will send us out to share his mercy – send us out to listen for the voice of the voiceless – and then to magnify it, to make it louder, and all to the glory of God.
Amen.
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