You Sold Me
Genesis 45:1-15; Matthew 15:21-28

August 18, 2002

A not too distant generation of preachers were in the habit of using a single phrase from the Scripture passage of the day for their preaching text. The whole story might be lost focusing on so little, but you still heard some interesting sermons.

So today I will bring back yesteryear and choose the two significant phrases from the Genesis and Matthew stories. “And after that his brothers talked with him” (Genesis 45:15b); and “And his disciples came and urged him, saying, 'Send her away, for she keeps shouting after us’” (Matthew 15:23).

Both stories capture the Gospel being lived out in a foreign land. Can the Gospel have any power in the midst of a foreign culture which does not recognize our values and claims? Can you be Christian in Iraq today? (The plain answer is Yes, because I know some Christians in their churches there right now.) The whole Christian bible college movement is based upon the idea that it is easier to be a Christian in the supportive company of other Christians. I believe it is easier to be an authentic Christian outside the womb, living amidst a semi-pagan society. At least in such a society, you know how you are different. Jesus had been teaching too in the heartland, so without explanation he takes off for Gentile country, the district of Tyre and Sidon to the northwest of Galilee. Stereotypes abound as the narrator identifies a Canaanite woman approaching Jesus’ company. Canaanites are those lusty pagans the Israelites had to contend with entering the Promised Land: worshiping the many Ba’als, fertility cults, human sacrifice, and ritual prostitution. In not worshiping the Lord God the Canaanites were not really to be counted as human beings. They did not matter.

It is surprising, even shocking, that Jesus seems to be buying into this world view. “I was sent only to the lost sheep of Israel.” No Gentiles allowed, almost like the signs of segregation in the Jim Crow South. This Syrophoenician woman assaults the Jesus gang with her plea to heal her daughter possessed by a demon. Evidently, she is good and annoying at the assignment. The disciples waste no words, “Get rid of her. She keeps yelling at us.” Jesus won’t even answer her, as a good rabbi should not properly recognize the equal presence of a woman.

Yet, in her annoyingness, she cannot be ignored. She calls Jesus, “Lord,” the title which identified him as the Messiah. She was apparently a convert to the Jewish faith, a “God-fearer.” Probably, she did not go to synagogue or practice kosher, but she knew that the Lord was God, the Creator of the Universe.

And she believed Jesus was the embodiment of God, so no matter how much they tried to shoo her away, she kept coming, kneeling down in front of Jesus. “Lord, help me,” she pleaded, but it was for her daughter, not herself. We know how so much more determined one can be when one’s cause is for a beloved one and not for oneself.

Jesus is not nice. “It is not fair to take the children’s food and throw it to the dogs.” The woman is a dog, and even chauvinists should wince. This dog knows how the game is played and is not deterred. “Yes, Lord, yet even the dogs eat the crumbs that fall from their masters’ table.”

Perhaps she was referring to hush-puppies. In the South, it was not easy at big meals to keep the dogs quiet and under control. They would gather around the cooking area, smelling the food and would yip rather annoyingly. It became the custom to take little bits of bread dough, the ends, and throw them in the deep fat, then feed them to the dogs. These were “hush puppies,” intended to hush the puppies. People like them too.

The medium is the message, a very Canadian thing to say, for this impertinent non-being has just been engaging Jesus in a full-blown rabbinic dialogue and debate. You don’t, can’t do that with unequals. Jesus cannot resist the spirit and power of God alive in any person. “Woman, great is your faith!” And instantly her daughter was healed.

It wasn’t Jesus who brought about the Gospel here, for he couldn’t stop it if he tried. Despite her religious uncouthness, this anonymous woman allowed God to shout through her. God doesn’t mind being uncouth.

Joseph knew a God who did not mind venturing into foreign territory. Joseph was a dreamer, not in the ephemeral sense, but as a visionary, one who received visions of the way things could be. This always gets one into trouble with family and society. He is all but murdered by his jealous brothers, maybe worse, sold into foreign slavery where he was utterly alone. Except for his God.

Joseph never had it easy, accused of sexual harassment, imprisoned within an inch of the gallows. Nevertheless, he should be the patron saint of all civil servants: efficient, a creative organizer who knew how to plan for the future. Eventually, his visions caught the ear of the Pharaoh and he became the prime minister of Egypt, the greatest nation on earth. He made famine and drought helpless in the wake of his organizational skills.

Yet the famine was a world famine, as far as they were concerned, so way up in Israel-land, the sons of Jacob too are suffering and starving. They journey to the big city for relief and encounter their erstwhile brother. Actually, he encounters them, for dressed like an Egyptian, talking like an Egyptian, aged and matured from his boyhood figure, they have no idea who he really is.

Joseph had not thought about what had happened to him for a long time. It had happened, now he is here, doing what his life was meant to do. He is curious and he plays games with his brothers, gets them to bring back Benjamin, his younger brother by the same mother Rachel. He sees that his brothers have changed, and reveals his identity to his brothers.

This is not a neutral divulging of genealogical facts. The brothers were terrified, for they knew how terribly they had behaved and that they had no power or rights here. An eye for eye formula would not treat them well. And, after all, it would be justice.

Joseph was not interested in justice, thank goodness, for he knew that God was behind all of this mayhem. It was God’s inexplicable love and faithfulness that placed him here and not the hatred of his brothers. Because he saw God’s presence in all the valleys of the shadows of death, Joseph was no longer interested in justice. He yearned for reconciliation. You sold me here, but God has sent me here to preserve life. He weeps tears of joy with his brothers, and then our famous text, “and after that his brothers talked with him.” When you begin to talk again with one formerly estranged, reconciliation has begun.

May that be our covenant, to talk with our brothers and sisters who are different from us, not as educated or refined, not as religious. Let’s not decide what is proper and correct for God to say to us now and in the future. Hush puppies may be all we deserve, anyway, but after all those are not just good for dogs.

Preached by Robert Kitchen
Knox-Metropolitan United Church
Regina, Saskatchewan