The Canaanite Woman, The Rev. David R. Williams, Pentecost XIII--Year C--August 14, 2005

What could Jesus have been thinking? Seeking a quiet place of refuge and escape from the crowds, Jesus ventures from Jewish territory into the land of Gentiles, the land of Tyre and Sidon called Canaan.

A Canaanite woman, foreign to the Jews, approaches Jesus and begs mercy and healing on behalf of her sick daughter.

“It is not fair to take the children’s (Jews’) food and throw it to the dogs (derogative for Gentiles),” Jesus answers the woman.

What could Jesus have been thinking? And what boldness do we hear from this Gentile woman?

We shall return later to the Canaanite woman. For a few moments we remember the story of Joseph heard in last week’s Hebrew Testament lesson.

Consider Joseph. Joseph has been on a journey – a long dark journey to a strange land. Recall his travails as Joseph was cruelly rejected by his eleven brothers, thrown into a pit, sold to traders on the way to Egypt, and reported to their father, Jacob, as having been devoured by a wild animal.

In Egypt, Joseph eventually becomes a high-powered official.

Joseph’s father believes that Joseph is now dead. As we heard in this morning’s readings summarizing the long story of a new, dramatic encounter between Joseph and his brothers, the brothers beg for food from the now-Egyptian leader, Joseph, unrecognized by his siblings. Joseph reveals his identity. Emotions rise to the surface among Joseph, his brothers and, eventually, his father.

“And Joseph wept so loudly that the Egyptians heard it, and the household of Pharaoh heard it. His brothers could not answer him, so dismayed were they at his presence.”

Boundaries, lines of demarcation are betrayed and crossed: Egypt and Palestine; famine and food; rivalry between siblings; the loss felt by a father for a son; a son’s love for his family.

Tears of reconciliation, redemption, and, yes, maybe even resurrection pour forth as divides of geography and human differences are erased.

A woman sits in a chair outside the driveway of a powerful world leader. She sits alone, a vast gulf of feeling and opinion separating these two people.

Like the Canaanite woman, this woman pleads for mercy. Unlike the Canaanite woman, this woman’s son has died. “Before my son was killed (in Iraq), I used to think that one person could not make a difference,” speaks Cindy Sheehan from outside Texas family compound of President George W. Bush.

Cindy Sheehan makes an impression. Whether we agree with her beliefs and strategy, her feelings are powerful, and we take notice. Across a divide, Mrs. Sheehan clings to her hope.

Joseph, not of Egypt, desires healing among his family, his blood brothers.

Meet Clare, a contemporary friend of the now sainted figure Francis of Assisi. In a medieval century, each forms a religious order. Francis’ order is known as the Poor Friars, later the Françiscans. Clare’s order for women, the Poor Ladies of San Damiano, is dedicated to trust in God and ownership of nothing.

A pope of the day recognizes Francis’ order and ignores Clare’s.

Later, a friend of Francis and Clare, Ugolino, is elected Pope. One of the first actions of this new Pope Gregory IX is to champion the cause of his friend Clare, ignored by the previous pope. He plans a visit to Clare’s order.

Never has a Pope set foot into the austere surrounds of Clare’s order. The tradition of the day is that a host offers bread to a guest. But these poor convent women make none of their own bread, preferring instead to live day to day on alms of bread collected by the Poor Friars, the Franciscans. The only food in the convent is stale crusts, leftovers from breakfast.

The pope arrives with his entourage of cardinals, bishops, monsignors, and a host of other clerical types. As all gather in the refectory for dinner, Clare brings the basket of bread crusts, holds out the basket, bows and speaks.

“My Lord, please bless this bread so that we all might eat.”

The pope replies to Clare, “My sister, Clare, you bless the bread.”

No Pope had ever crossed this line of protocol. Only the ecclesiastical head of a group offers a blessing of any person or food.

“But you are a priest. Your hands bless bread every day. You, not I, should bless the bread,” says Clare.

The Pope repeats his request, “No, Clare. This time, you bless the bread.”

The crowd shudders. “But you are the Pope. You should bless the bread,” Clare says.

“No Clare. The hands that bring the bread are fit to bless the bread. I command you: Bless the bread that we may eat.”

Clare makes the sign of the cross over the bread. Witnesses say an amazing thing happened on that day: the crust of bread in that basket proved sufficient for the thousands of hungry people gathered. In later years, Clare was named a Saint of the Church.

Meet another woman. She broke a law. “I am tired,” she says quietly to the authorities. “You broke a law,” answers the arresting officer. Rosa Parks draws notice as she crosses a wide divide between races in the Jim Crow South.

Rosa Parks may have been physically tired that day in 1955 as she refused to sit in the back of the bus, but she was spiritually and emotionally drained as well. “Our mistreatment was just not right, and I was tired of it.”

Rosa Parks crossed a line.

Jesus, already controversial with the Jewish leaders of the day, journeys into alien territory. His reputation is profound, even in this foreign land of Canaan.

A lone woman ventures into Jesus’ space, pleading for her sick daughter. The disciples, knowing that she is not a Jew, try to wave her off.

“I was sent only to the lost sheep of the House of Israel,” Jesus says.

Jesus implies that he has no authority, ministry or association with a person outside this House. Jesus draws lines of distinction between Jew and Gentile, between his own authority and the needs of various people. Lines are drawn between Egyptian and Palestinian in the day of Joseph, between those supporting the cause of a war and those wanting a change in policy; between the ecclesiastical authority of a Pope and the ecclesiastical power of a poor lay woman of God; between a majority of white people and a minority of African-American people.

The woman persists, “Lord, help me.” Rosa Parks persists. Cindy Sheehan persists. Clare persists. Joseph persists

And Jesus persists by calling the Canaanite woman a “dog!”

Without the blink of an eye the Canaanite responds with dignity and calm.

“Yes, Lord, yet even the dogs eat the crumbs that fall from their master’s table.”

Jesus, utterly disarmed, responds with his healing and blessing. He sees, perhaps, a new calling to minister beyond earthly exclusion and limitation—a calling to minister to all in the world.

It has been said, “Maybe the time has come to put stained-glass images of the Canaanite woman in our churches. Then, if some child should ever point to a crucifix and ask, ‘Who is that?’ we can point to the window and answer, ‘Find her, find that person, and she will tell you.’”

Amen.