You Have No Business Being Here
Reflections for Ninth Sunday after Pentecost
Is. 56:3, 6-8; Rom. 6-18; Matt. 15:21-28
A good many of us have come to expect of Jesus a certain way of behaving and speaking, and to envision his life as something almost too good to be true! So when we hear Jesus giving this anguished mother a hard time, our minds seem to stall, and we might be a bit confused, because this doesn’t seem to be the way of Jesus the gentle healer and friend to those in need. After all, it just doesn’t seem fair to her, even though he finally acceded to her request and blest her.
But what is the story trying to tell us? Why is it in the same book with the Beatitudes and St. Paul’s Ode on Love? Is it simply one of those colorful miracles?
As we all know, things aren’t always quite what they seem. Matthew’s gospel story is not a still-life portrait but an intense drama: Everyone involved in it is deeply changed. It shows us a pivotal conflict at the foundation of Christianity.
As we know, Jesus was born and raised Jewish. He was tested in the desert, baptized in the Jordan, and entered public life as a witness to God’s call to Jesus’ own people. I think Jesus was aware the ordinary people needed not to return to an historical deity or find a new plan to live by or to pursue national freedom. They needed an honest prophet, and a just and compassionate shepherd. They yearned for the experience of the living God here and now, some good news for their souls. With great tenderness, Jesus lamented, Jerusalem, Jerusalem, how I would love to gather you as a hen gathers her chicks under her wings.
So in today’s drama the crowds are expectant. The disciples are protective of their own Galilean prophet. Everyone was filled with enthusiasm and hope. Yet even here we can see the dark clouds on the horizon; we begin to see that the actors have clashing expectations.
The action begins with this person weeping and wailing for attention. It is obvious she was a foreigner and without any sense of proper local decorum. She is making a ruckus—tell her to go.
How will Jesus moderate this confrontation, a sort of boundary dispute? Should he preach to them, set down the law, or try to argue and convince them their mind-sets are too narrow?
He follows through by putting into words everyone’s indignant thoughts and feelings, and in fact his own position as someone sent first to the lost sheep of Israel. They hear him tell her just how it is, and now even they want him to grant her request. On her part, she’s already made a fool of herself. But at this provocation and apparent denial, she rises to something bigger than them all: as she points out, she has a right to ask this and to expect a positive response, whatever they think of her or the gentiles.
Don’t you see, she says, I too seek fully to participate in the mercy and abundance of God’s gifts. With all due respect, Lord Son of David, even these little dogs, these puppies under the children’s’ table, get the crumbs on the floor. And this is just what the Greek text says, when it uses a softer word for our ever-present dog companions.
Now at last they’ve all heard it. With some surprise and joy he praises her: What compelling trust she has in him and what great faith in her own request! Where else have you seen this—not much around here—present company included. How can anyone of you object to her now, or ignore her and send her away.
You who have the truth and the grace, whether you live up to it or not, cannot restrict it to yourselves on any account. In fact it will be given to whoever desires, asks, and appreciates it. I myself cannot control it: it is a fire of the spirit. We can see her precisely as appealing to basic humanity for people everywhere.
She herself found and performed the healing, facilitated by Jesus’s being honest and finally accepting her. The two of them together entered a new world and no doubt dazzled those around with its daring.
We tend to categorize things, to set boundaries and see divisions. But unless you see as little children see, and pursue as the puppies do, with unclouded vision and the grace of rediscovered innocence, you won’t be able to live in the kingdom of heaven. Jesus stretched his mission. He demonstrated how to embrace each of our neighbors in an abundant and universal love, not just as children but as adults.
We know the story and take this for granted—but after the crucifixion and resurrection the new community had to struggle to resolve their still-limited vision. Can the gentiles have the same rights as the first followers? It finally came to severe enmity and bloodshed, even after Peter himself gave in to Paul and accepted any and all who desired Christ. Only trust in God is required, including faith in the process itself; and only the recognition of our shared birthright and relationship with the one who is the very mystery of life.