Sermon Archive
Jesus and the Canaanite woman
Sermon preached by John McLuckie on 18 August 2002
As we all know, a story can be told from many viewpoints and it often looks very different from a perspective that is unexpected or ignored. We could tell the story of the Battle of the Little BigHorn from any of a number of angles. Our Guardians are well used to drawing the attention of visitors to a plaque over there commemorating a certain John Stuart Stuart Forbes who fell, along with all his comrades, at that battle. We might tell the story from the perspective of the fine tradition of cinematic versions of the story - They died with their boots on, Custer's Last Fight and all that. Some of you may have seen the recent BBC2 documentary that tells the story from perspectives often ignored - the perspectives of the Indians who were on the winning side at the battle. For a long time, their testimony was ignored. It was, after all, the testimony of an ultimately vanquished people and the form of the testimony - in oral tradition and pictograms - was not one that white historians were in the habit of trusting. However, archaeology has backed up their witness and the true picture can now be seen.
I guess that a similar problem has faced those who have read today's gospel through history. So much attention has been given to the uncomfortable depiction of Jesus in the incident that the woman's voice has been secondary. Since she is portrayed as the possessor of great faith, we are rather missing the point to sideline her in any way. It's doubly ironic if we neglect the Canaanite woman's perspective because her marginal position is, in fact, the point of the story.
So how does the story look from her eyes? What can she show us about faith today? The first thing I notice is that, far from the tidiness and gentility of much of what passes for religion, this woman's first act is to cry out. She shouts and screams and makes a bother of herself because her heart has been wrenched by the desperate illness of her daughter. Today, many other mothers will find themselves crying out to God for their children; not least two mothers in Soham. From the very deepest despair comes naked anguish pouring out in grief or pleading. For many, the first act of faith is an act like this, a call for rescue or maybe just a cry that doesn't know a purpose. At times, neat and tidy religion doesn't quite know what to do with despair like this. The too-hasty search for answers or the sheer embarrassment of undignified need can prevent us from doing what the psalmist does so naturally - lament. A howl that can seem ugly and can disturb us may be a nearer picture of faith than a religion of cold duty and soulless propriety. Our self-contained contentedness may not allow much room for us to receive the Light of God.
The next insight offered to us by the woman is the profoundly theological awareness of the deepest character of God - mercy. 'Have mercy on me, Lord, Son of David' calls the woman and thus utters the distinctive Christian prayer - have mercy, Kyrie eleison. In common with Paul in the reading we heard from Romans, the woman in the gospel knows that God acts mercifully because God is mercy. Rejection and condemnation are not of the essence of God, but mercy is, and the mercy of God is undiscriminating, profligate and passionate. God is merciful to the one I shun and pours out his love upon those I can't bear to look at. I suspect that if we truly grasped that, our world would look a little different.
So what else of this woman and her great faith? Matthew chooses to label this woman a Canaanite, an odd and archaic description, and he uses it to emphasise the extent to which she would be hated by the disciples as a pagan, an idolater and, perhaps also a member of a privileged foreign element who thrive at the expense of the local population. The woman is the victim of deep prejudice so her faith has the additional power of being a faith that has overcome huge obstacles of others' making. Her presence in this story comes as a challenge to us all. How many times have we heard or, indeed, uttered a sentence that begins, 'Now I'm not a racist, but'? We erect barriers to the recognition of our fellow human beings by making all manner of assumptions about them. This links back to our sense of God's mercy for all. As soon as we insert that pre-judging 'but' in our awareness of others, we limit the extent to which we can see them as beloved of God. The Canaanite woman dares us to see beyond our 'buts'.
Finally, the woman is bold in her approach to Jesus. She comes back, quick as lightening, with a response to the conventional phrase spoken by Jesus which is smart, unflinching and disarming. The woman certainly lacks no awareness of the power and significance of Jesus, indeed, she seems to know this better than most. But this awareness does not inhibit her from standing her ground before him. It is indeed holy ground and she knows that she must stand there, however dangerous and strange it is.
How can faith like this help to shape our own faithful responses to God? Like the woman, let us cry out for God's mercy, let us know it is for all, and let us stand on the ground we know to be holy, for on that ground is healing, light and peace.
Worship >> Sermons >> Sermons