A Most Unusual Communion
Sometimes I have to laugh at myself. When I started this experience as Stated Supply, way back in the month of May, I created a chart to schedule my preaching plans. For these three months I plugged in my scheduled vacation and the dates when Charlie, Craig, and Jody would be preaching. I then went through the lectionary and read over the scriptures for each Sunday, making decisions about what passages I would use and the direction I anticipated for the message. So, in early May I had planned out three months of worship. It has actually worked fairly well. And then, as I anticipated THIS Sunday, I had in my mind the passage about Jesus feeding the multitudes. There are two such stories in Matthew, one just before the reading we had last Sunday, and one after it. And the title I had selected way back then would have fit, with reference to communion. Well, I won’t bore you with the details of how I made that mistake, but when I returned to the passage to begin preparing for the message today, I was a little surprised by the passage I found. So should I switch to what I had been expecting or stay with what I had? Adding to my inner conversation, I would say that our passage this morning is one of the most difficult passages in all of the gospels. Needless to say, I decided to accept the challenge that was put before me. But before we get to our gospel lesson, let’s take a listen to Psalm 133. This is indicated as a song of ascent, a song sung by pilgrims going up to Jerusalem or on their return. In this particular song, we are reminded of the blessing of reconciliation and unity. In today’s world where we seem to be constantly at odds with others, it is good to remember the blessing of our unity.
Let us hear Psalm 133.
Now, let us hear our Gospel lesson, Matthew 15:21-28.
Back a few years ago, when I was still in seminary and Jim Lowery was the pastor here at Orange Park, I was home for a while during the summer and was visiting with Jim. This passage was the one that he was wrestling with for the upcoming Sunday. So Jim asks me, what would the students at the seminary make of this passage? I’m afraid I didn’t have much of an answer for him, then.
This is how it appears and why it is so challenging: It appears that Jesus gives in to the prejudices of his day, joining other Jews in their view of foreigners. He only helps the Canaanite woman after she is so persistent in hounding him, and she seems to out-do Jesus in their dialogue. So, by his actions, does Jesus endorse the exclusiveness of the Jews? Does he, in essence, endorse our exclusiveness?
Now, you may take issue with me on this. You might be ready to say that you are not exclusive, that our church is open to anyone and everyone. Everyone is welcomed here. That is all well and good, but my experience has been that every congregation has it’s own boundaries of who is truly welcomed and who is not. You may be quick to greet and be friendly to first time visitors, but generally, after a few visits or when people try to get more involved, it becomes increasingly clear whether or not they will be embraced as part of the community. People know the difference between social politeness and true acceptance.
So who are we not so comfortable with? There are a wide variety of Christians out there with some being more pentecostal in nature, hands raised, responding to the preacher during the sermon; and then there are the more sacramental, formal, liturgical worshipers. Who are we more likely to welcome to our worship? What if a family arrived who were obviously migrant workers, perhaps undocumented? Or a man comes to worship that you see walking up and down the streets all day, no job, no home, no personal hygiene. How would we respond to Arab-Americans? Would we be welcoming of a same-sexed couple?
Reading this story we might feel somewhat vindicated in drawing some clear boundaries for who we welcome and who we help to find a more fitting place to worship, somewhere else. We might get that message from this passage. Except, Jesus has this tendency to turn things upside down and do what is unexpected.
If Jesus wanted, he could have turned this Canaanite woman away, never engaged her, never respond to her pleas, and there would be no story. But consider this: by ignoring the woman and allowing her to plead her case, Jesus draws in the sympathy of the other do-gooders, the self-righteous people who watched and said to themselves or to each other, “Look, even Jesus has trouble with those people. Can you believe that woman, how she keeps pestering him?”
And just when he has their sympathy and they are identifying with his plight, and their attention is focused so keenly on him, the situation changes. Jesus stops. The woman seizes the opportunity. She kneels in front of him. They talk about breaking bread. And Jesus declares, “Woman, great is your faith. Let it be done for you as you wish.” And immediately her request for her daughter to be healed is granted. It was a pretty shabby trick, if you ask me. The story was not so much about the Canaanite woman as it was about those who would stand in judgement of the Canaanite woman, or stand in judgement of whoever it is that we see as different from us. It did not matter that her demographics were not quite right. What mattered was that this mother loved her daughter so much that she would humble herself to find help where she could. What mattered is that she had great hope that this Jesus person could and would help. What mattered was she came to Jesus seeking for something more in her life than what she had. Jesus would honor the woman’s faith and teach us all something in the process.
What is also significant is the content of their conversation. They talked about breaking bread at the master’s table. Years later, when Matthew shared this story with his church, did he have in his mind an allusion to the breaking of bread at communion? Shall we understand this story as an unusual kind of communion between Jesus and the woman? In other stories of the master sharing a feast, servants are sent into the streets to invite anyone and everyone to come to the banquet. If all are invited to the table, how can we not include them in the community of Christ?
There is a song that I have grown to appreciate. I’ve asked Greg to sing it for us as we move into our breaking the bread and taking the cup. It is, in essence, a call to communion. One part of the song says:
No one is a stranger here
Everyone belongs
Finding our forgiveness here
We in turn forgive all wrongs
The song is titled, “Come, Share the Lord.”
Jess McCrosky
Orange Park Presbyterian Church
August 14, 2011
[Here is a link to a video from Youtube with this song. My favorite expression of this song comes from the cd “...until all are fed” by Brian F. McFarland. You can find out more about this work here.]
Now, let us hear our Gospel lesson, Matthew 15:21-28.
Back a few years ago, when I was still in seminary and Jim Lowery was the pastor here at Orange Park, I was home for a while during the summer and was visiting with Jim. This passage was the one that he was wrestling with for the upcoming Sunday. So Jim asks me, what would the students at the seminary make of this passage? I’m afraid I didn’t have much of an answer for him, then.
This is how it appears and why it is so challenging: It appears that Jesus gives in to the prejudices of his day, joining other Jews in their view of foreigners. He only helps the Canaanite woman after she is so persistent in hounding him, and she seems to out-do Jesus in their dialogue. So, by his actions, does Jesus endorse the exclusiveness of the Jews? Does he, in essence, endorse our exclusiveness?
Now, you may take issue with me on this. You might be ready to say that you are not exclusive, that our church is open to anyone and everyone. Everyone is welcomed here. That is all well and good, but my experience has been that every congregation has it’s own boundaries of who is truly welcomed and who is not. You may be quick to greet and be friendly to first time visitors, but generally, after a few visits or when people try to get more involved, it becomes increasingly clear whether or not they will be embraced as part of the community. People know the difference between social politeness and true acceptance.
So who are we not so comfortable with? There are a wide variety of Christians out there with some being more pentecostal in nature, hands raised, responding to the preacher during the sermon; and then there are the more sacramental, formal, liturgical worshipers. Who are we more likely to welcome to our worship? What if a family arrived who were obviously migrant workers, perhaps undocumented? Or a man comes to worship that you see walking up and down the streets all day, no job, no home, no personal hygiene. How would we respond to Arab-Americans? Would we be welcoming of a same-sexed couple?
Reading this story we might feel somewhat vindicated in drawing some clear boundaries for who we welcome and who we help to find a more fitting place to worship, somewhere else. We might get that message from this passage. Except, Jesus has this tendency to turn things upside down and do what is unexpected.
If Jesus wanted, he could have turned this Canaanite woman away, never engaged her, never respond to her pleas, and there would be no story. But consider this: by ignoring the woman and allowing her to plead her case, Jesus draws in the sympathy of the other do-gooders, the self-righteous people who watched and said to themselves or to each other, “Look, even Jesus has trouble with those people. Can you believe that woman, how she keeps pestering him?”
And just when he has their sympathy and they are identifying with his plight, and their attention is focused so keenly on him, the situation changes. Jesus stops. The woman seizes the opportunity. She kneels in front of him. They talk about breaking bread. And Jesus declares, “Woman, great is your faith. Let it be done for you as you wish.” And immediately her request for her daughter to be healed is granted. It was a pretty shabby trick, if you ask me. The story was not so much about the Canaanite woman as it was about those who would stand in judgement of the Canaanite woman, or stand in judgement of whoever it is that we see as different from us. It did not matter that her demographics were not quite right. What mattered was that this mother loved her daughter so much that she would humble herself to find help where she could. What mattered is that she had great hope that this Jesus person could and would help. What mattered was she came to Jesus seeking for something more in her life than what she had. Jesus would honor the woman’s faith and teach us all something in the process.
What is also significant is the content of their conversation. They talked about breaking bread at the master’s table. Years later, when Matthew shared this story with his church, did he have in his mind an allusion to the breaking of bread at communion? Shall we understand this story as an unusual kind of communion between Jesus and the woman? In other stories of the master sharing a feast, servants are sent into the streets to invite anyone and everyone to come to the banquet. If all are invited to the table, how can we not include them in the community of Christ?
There is a song that I have grown to appreciate. I’ve asked Greg to sing it for us as we move into our breaking the bread and taking the cup. It is, in essence, a call to communion. One part of the song says:
No one is a stranger here
Everyone belongs
Finding our forgiveness here
We in turn forgive all wrongs
The song is titled, “Come, Share the Lord.”
Jess McCrosky
Orange Park Presbyterian Church
August 14, 2011
[Here is a link to a video from Youtube with this song. My favorite expression of this song comes from the cd “...until all are fed” by Brian F. McFarland. You can find out more about this work here.]
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