Think again.
You think that not washing according to the ritual law is what defiles you? Or eating that which has been declared ‘unclean’? Think again.
God doesn’t want empty rituals, but rather actions that put love in motion. You think you should pay more attention to how you eat than to the words and deeds you’re feeding others? Think again.
You think there’s no room for sick children or desperate mothers at the table of mercy, simply because of where they come from? You think nationality and place of origin and skin color and religion must be just so in order to partake of God’s grace? Think again.
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| Photo by Caroline Attwood on Unsplash |
Here, it’s Jesus who has to think again. Jesus, who let ingrained stereotypes, the same old stock response, dictate his actions. And the disciples are no help – “Send her away,” they say, “for she keeps shouting after us.” A gentile, a foreigner, a woman – send her away. Loud, persistent, bringing discomfort – send her away.
It doesn’t matter that she calls Jesus “Lord” and “Son of David” when often even the disciples don’t seem to know who Jesus is. It doesn’t matter that her daughter is tormented by a demon, and healing and casting out demons is what Jesus does. None of this matters, because she comes from the wrong place. She’s not an insider, she doesn’t belong.
Jesus’ view of his mission is narrow. “I was sent only to the lost sheep of the house of Israel.” Not you.
But the woman wouldn’t be ignored, and she wouldn’t take “no” for an answer.
She kneels before Jesus, poised to wrestle a blessing from him whether he wants to give it to her or not. “Lord, help me.”
And when Jesus still refuses, when he calls her a dog and sets her at odds with the children and tells her that she is not deserving and never will be because of where she comes from, when Jesus still refuses, she flips the response and issues a challenge. She pushes the boundaries Jesus has envisioned and calls him out. “He answered, ‘It is not fair to take the children’s food and throw it to the dogs.’” “Yes, Lord,” she says, “yet even the dogs eat the crumbs that fall from the masters’ table.” Think again.
Think again. And Jesus does. “Woman, great is your faith!” he says to her. “Let it be done for you as you wish.” And her daughter was healed instantly, her demon gone.
In this encounter, through this persistent, desperate woman, Jesus’ vision of his mission and his ministry is expanded. Are the lost sheep of the house of Israel still included? Yes. Of course. But the kingdom of God is bigger than just that. In the kingdom of God, all means all. All means Israelites and Canaanites. Clean and unclean. Insider and outsider.
Sure, it’s not fair to throw the children’s food to the dogs. But, guess what - this thing Jesus is giving, the healing, the forgiveness, the grace that seems to pour from his fingers? It’s not food. There’s not a finite amount to be divided, sparingly and with great precision among those who are deemed worthy.
Think again. It’s not food. Not crumbs. Not a rare commodity to be hoarded and parceled out sparingly, but rather the very picture of abundance. Like the ever-flowing baptismal waters, the meal and oil that do not run out, the twelve baskets filled with leftovers, and the bottomless well of grace that we encounter when we encounter God.
When we find ourselves distracted by the illusion of scarcity, and when our inclination is to choose narrowness over a wide welcome, may we listen to the challenging, persistent, demanding invitation to think again.
And when it is us who come begging for some morsel, some crumb of grace, be assured that God will not turn us away. If you think your sin is too much, if you think there’s no way God could love or forgive you, think again. For in Jesus’ outstretched arms, in this wide welcome to the kingdom of God, there is room for all. And where God is concerned, all really means all.
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