Matthew 15:21-28

I’m betting that all of you can look back on your lives and remember certain people who have had a profound effect upon you.  You would expect some people, like school teachers, to have that sort of impact.

For example, I remember Mrs. Breed, my 10^th grade English teacher.  Up until my encounter with this woman, I was horribly shy and introverted, always sitting on the back row in class, never saying a word lest someone realize that I existed.  My sole ambition was to suffer my way through high school without anyone noticing me.

And so you can imagine how horrified I was when, after only a few days in Mrs. Breed’s English class, she told me to move from my back row seat to a seat on the front row, right next to Sheila Hamilton, the chattiest girl in the 10^th grade class.   I couldn’t figure out what I had done to deserve such punishment.   But yet, I came to enjoy my friendship with Sheila who pulled me, kicking and screaming, out of my shell.

Later on, Mrs. Breed decided that I would represent the school in English at something called a statewide literary rally.  And so she would keep me after class, tutoring me and badgering me, until I was as offended by dangling participles as was she.  I went to the state rally two successive years, competing against the top students in the state.  And the first year I won a bronze medal and the second year, a silver medal.  I was beginning to learn that I had potential.

I owe a lot to Mrs. Breed.  She saw the potential within a horribly shy and backward teenager, and helped me realize that I could do almost anything I put my mind to do.

But I’ve also encountered other people in my life who have had profound effects on me – people who have taught me important lessons.  Some of the unlikeliest people, actually.

For instance, most of you know that I lived in New Orleans for about four years before making my home here in Waco.  And if you’ve ever been to New Orleans, you know there are panhandlers on almost every street corner.  There are young people and old people, and people of every color, size, shape, and odor.

And if you aren’t careful, you can become very jaded in a city like that.  You try to avoid the people asking for a handout by walking on the other side of the street or you simply ignore them.  Just continue your conversation with whoever your companion may be, don’t slow down, and never look into their eyes.  Ignore whatever sad story they are trying to tell you.  Ignore them and keep on walking.

I used to be so upset with all the panhandlers everywhere you looked.  It almost seemed as if they ruled the streets, draining people of their loose change. 

And then one day it occurred to me that they were more than panhandlers; they were my family.  And they deserved more than a dime or nickel.  And so I made a promise to myself that I would no longer avoid them.  I wouldn’t walk to the other side of the street if I saw someone up ahead asking for money.  And I would make sure to give them folding money, rather than a spare coin.

And soon my resolve was put to the test, when the next day, I was walking home and saw an African American woman standing outside the local bakery.  As I approached her, she politely asked for some money for a donut.  And although I was pretty sure the money wouldn’t be going towards a donut, I opened my wallet and sensed that she was bracing herself for the inevitable, “Sorry, I don’t have any money.”  But I found a dollar and gave it to her and made my way back to my apartment just a block away.

I was only in the apartment for a few minutes before I had to head off to my next appointment.  And so when I stepped back onto the street, I was surprised to find the woman outside the bakery with crumbs all over her face enjoying a donut.  And as I passed her, I heard her say a quiet, yet very dignified, “Thank you.”

I got to know her pretty well over the years.  And I even came to count her among my friends in New Orleans.  Her name was Time.  And every time I encountered her on the streets, she would always ask if I could give her some money for a donut.  Time taught me that street people are my brothers and sisters.  They are not people to be avoided.  They are part of my family.

And then there was Juanita.  Our church’s Red Door Pantry had not been open but a couple months, when Juanita showed up.  Juanita was a little woman, probably not much more than 5 feet tall.  I hadn’t developed a good system of record keeping yet, and so when she appeared at the church’s door asking for food because she was HIV⁺, I thought that maybe I had served her just a few days earlier.  When I said as much, Juanita got up in my face and said, “Look at me!  Remember me!  Don’t forget who I am!”  And you can be sure I never did.

Juanita and I became friends after that.  But I’ll never forget the lesson that short little Mexican lady taught me:  the people I serve are more than clients; they are human beings.  Each of them has their own story, one of the most precious gifts that anyone can offer to another person.  All of them are valuable in God’s sight.  And that applies to more than just Red Door clients.  I’ve tried to take the lesson that Juanita taught me into my congregational ministry and even beyond – into the world.

And so maybe by now, you’re wondering what my wanderings down memory road have to do with this morning’s Gospel lesson.  Well, it’s simply this:  each of us is valuable in God’s sight.  Mrs. Breed taught me that I was.  Time and Juanita taught me that they were.  And I believe the Gentile mother in this morning’s Scripture taught Jesus that she was also valuable to God.

That’s what I believe is taking place in this morning’s Gospel story.  Jesus needed to be taught a lesson.  Now, some of you may find that to be a surprising statement, maybe even blasphemous.  We think of Jesus as the teacher, not the student.  But the Gospel of Luke says of the boy Jesus that he “increased in wisdom and stature, and in divine and human favor.” (Luke 2:51)  And I’m inclined to think that, like the rest of us, that was a lifelong process.

And so when Jesus met the Canaanite woman in this morning’s story, I’m pretty sure that neither he nor she had any idea how significant the encounter would be, any more than I could have anticipated the significance of my encounters with Time and Juanita.  This Canaanite woman would teach Jesus a lesson that all people – all people! – are valuable in God’s eyes.

It seems that Jesus was trying to use the same methods as I used in New Orleans.  Scripture says he was walking down the street when he was accosted by a woman seeking help for her daughter.  “But,” Matthew’s Gospel says, “he did not answer her at all.”  Keep on walking, Jesus!  Pretend that she doesn’t exist.  Keep talking to the disciples, and whatever you do, Jesus, don’t look into her eyes.

But this woman was not one to be ignored.  I imagine her to be a lot like Juanita, getting in the face of Jesus and saying, “Look at me!  Remember me!”  She was creating a scene and she knew it.  But she didn’t care.  She would do whatever it took to save her daughter.

And even the disciples got in on the action.  Although our translation says they asked Jesus to send her away, some early church traditions feel the original Greek implies they may have even been pleading on her behalf.  They may have actually been saying, “Jesus, go ahead and heal her daughter, so all this ruckus will stop.”

They may have even reminded Jesus that healing a Gentile wasn’t entirely unprecedented.  After all, he had already healed a Roman centurion’s slave. (Matthew 8:5-13)

But on this particular day Jesus was in one of his stubborn moods.  Maybe he felt he had no choice but to heal the centurion’s slave; after all, the Romans ruled the land.  But things were different here.  He didn’t owe anything to this Canaanite woman.  In fact, he seemed to resent her taking up his time – resented her so much that he even resorted to name-calling – referring to her and her people as dogs. 

Yes, it would seem that Jesus was either having a really bad day, or he had some important lessons to learn.  And learn them, he did!

And it came on the heels of his stinging remark to the woman:  “It is not fair to take the children’s food and throw it to the dogs.”  That’s when the woman turned his words back upon him by saying, “Yes, Lord, yet even the dogs eat the crumbs that fall from their masters’ table.” 

Jesus was saying that there was not enough bread, not enough grace, for everyone.  Some would just have to suffer without.  And she was saying there was enough.  There was enough bread, there was enough grace, if you acted out of love and compassion.  In fact, there was more than enough.  If you were simply willing to stop for a moment and look into the eyes of the person asking for help.

And Jesus was stunned into a moment of silence.  I think at that instant he realized that God was speaking to him through a very unlikely encounter with a Gentile woman.  Whether it was a new awakening for him, or a timely reminder, I think Jesus probably walked away never forgetting this brazen Canaanite woman’s words.

Sometimes we need those sorts of lessons.  Sometimes we become so complacent, we need a jolt of reality to get us back on track.  Sometimes we need to be reminded who we are and what our relationship is to everyone else.  Sometimes we need to remember that we aren’t any better … or any worse than the next person.  And when it’s lesson time, we need to have open hearts and open minds.

God has a plan for you and for me.  We may think we know that plan and don’t need any more instruction.  But God knows differently.  If Jesus had lessons to learn this late in his career, chances are we’ve got a few of our own.  May each of us be blessed with receptiveness to the everyday lessons God has for us.  Amen.