Eleventh Sunday after Pentecost

Eleventh Sunday after Pentecost (Proper 15A)

August 16, 2020

Text: Matt. 15:21-28

            “But he did not answer her a word” (Matt. 15:23; ESV).  What do you do with God’s silence?  What do you do when Jesus ignores you?  It is a hard text this morning.  Luther says that in all the Gospels, nowhere is Christ so hard as He is here.  The dear woman is crying out.  Begging.  Pleading.  For her precious little daughter.  She uses all the right words, even the words of the liturgy, the Kyrie and the Creed, “Have mercy on me, O Lord, Son of David” (v. 22).  She appeals to His compassion.  She has heard all about Him in the Word, the testimony of others.  And maybe she’s witnessed His compassion in action herself, hearing the Word from His own mouth, observing the miracles of healing and release.  Here her dear sweet daughter is severely oppressed by a demon.  And didn’t Jesus come precisely to evict the demons and free humanity from Satan’s grip?  You can see her there, on her knees, or prostrate on the ground, tears streaming down her face, voice atremble, desperate for the help she knows only Jesus can give.  And… nothing.  Not a word.  He turns His back.  

            Now even the disciples speak up on her behalf.  They pray for her.  True, not because they particularly care about her.  She is a foreigner, after all.  And not just any foreigner, a Canaanite, of the nations God had commanded His Old Testament people to eradicate from the land.  But they’re annoyed.  They’re tired of her following and begging.  “It’s just one miracle, Lord.  Just do it and get her off our backs.”

            And now Jesus speaks, and His speech is even worse than His silence.  “I was sent only to the lost sheep of the house of Israel” (v. 24).  Essentially, “No grace for you!  You are the wrong ethnicity.”  And we can hardly believe our ears.  This is not the kind of talk we’ve come to expect from Jesus, of all people.  And we’re Bible believing Christians!  Imagine what the “I just can’t believe in a Jesus who would say that” crowd does with this!  But it gets worse.  She kneels before Him, in utter submission.  “Lord, help me” (v. 25).  And He replies, “It is not right to take the children’s bread and throw it to the dogs” (v. 26).  He calls her a dog!  There is some debate whether He is referring to a mongrel on the street or a little domesticated lap dog like mine, but either way… a dog?  It’s a racial slur.  Is Jesus a racist?  Maybe He needs to read some of our pro-life literature where again and again we make the point that every human being, regardless of their gender or ethnicity, mental capacity, usefulness, level of development, or any other factor, is precious in God’s sight and made in God’s image.  Did He miss that lesson from His heavenly Father?  And what about His compassion?  Is this just an off day for Him?  Could it really be true that Jesus is rejecting this dear woman who comes to Him in faith? 

            The woman knows what you also know.  In spite of all appearances, it cannot be true of Jesus that He will ever reject one who comes to Him pleading for mercy.  It cannot be true that He is full of racist hatred.  It cannot be true that His compassion could ever fail.  So there must be something else going on here.  Jesus must be doing His alien work, the work of the Law with all its devastating condemnation, that He may bring the woman to the end of herself, where she needs to be, so that He may do His proper work of raising to new life, healing, restoring, and casting out Satan forever.  That is the work of the Gospel. 

            It is true in your own life, is it not?  How many of us have been praying daily for the end of this pandemic (which by the way, you should do as a Christian royal priest)?  But what result has there been?  Will it ever go away?  Is God even listening?  How many of us have been praying for our nation and all that ails us?  For an end to the political rancor, the civil unrest, the societal breakdown… And the riots just continue!  We’re more divided than ever.  Lord, help us.  Where are you?  Are you really turning your back?  Did you come for others, but not us?  Could that possibly be true?  And, of course, there are any number of things in your own life for which you pray and beg God, in all the power of Jesus’ holy Name, and all-too-often it seems like He isn’t even listening.  Grandma still died of cancer.  My child still left the Church.  My house was still repossessed.  I’m still dying! 

            But you know, as the woman knows, that in spite of all appearances, this God in whom we live and believe, the God who took on flesh and blood to be one with us, to suffer with us, to suffer for us and die for us, to bear our sins to the cross, and put them to death in His Body, and bury them forever in the tomb… this God, this Man, who is risen from the dead and promises to raise you and me… cannot fail to hear your petitions, your cries for mercy, and have compassion on you and deliver you from all your afflictions.  It is an impossibility.  You know too much about Jesus.  He must be doing something else.  Faith… which God gives you freely by the Spirit in the Word of Christ… clings to Jesus and His mercy in spite of all appearances.  Even when Jesus seems to be ignoring and rejecting you.

            “So, I’m a dog, is that it, Jesus?  It is true.  I confess it.”  The woman makes no qualms about it, and neither should you.  You put it this way a few moments ago: “we confess that we are by nature sinful and unclean… We justly deserve Your present and eternal punishment” (LSB 151).  But then she says a remarkable thing: “Yes, Lord,” I am a dog, as You say, “yet even the dogs eat the crumbs that fall from their masters’ table” (v. 27).  “I am not asking because I have any worthiness in me.  I am asking because You are good.  I am asking because You are merciful, because You are Mercy Incarnate.”  You put it this way when you confess your sins to your Father: “For the sake of Your Son, Jesus Christ, have mercy on us.  Forgive us, renew us, and lead us.”  “I do not ask, dear Father, because I am worthy or have earned it.  I ask because You are good, and You sent Jesus, and You cannot fail to have compassion and forgive and help in every time of need. 

            “And by the way, just the crumbs are fine.  If the crumbs are all you give, the crumbs are just fine with me.”  But, of course, He gives so much more than crumbs.  “O woman, great is your faith!  Be it done for you as you desire” (v. 28).  And so it was.  Her daughter was healed instantly.  Or you, dear woman, dear man, be it done for you as you believe: “I therefore forgive you all your sins in the name of the Father and of the + Son and of the Holy Spirit.” 

            Why the silence?  Why the ignoring?  Why the seeming rejection from God?  Because if God always immediately did everything you ask, immediately delivered you, never allowed any suffering in your life, there would be no room for faith.  “Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen” (Heb. 11:1).  Faith is knowing the truth of a thing when you don’t see it… when you see the opposite!  Faith in God’s Promises is trusting who He is and what He says, even as He does His alien work. 

            And this is an important teaching point: God’s alien work is that which is outside of His nature.  That is the condemnation of the Law, accusing, terrifying, condemning, turning away from mercy.  This comes to us right out of the Prophet Isaiah.  The Prophet declares that God will be on the side of Israel’s enemies, to punish His people: “For the Lord will rise up… he will be roused; to do his deed—strange is his deed! and to work his work—alien is his work!” (Is. 28:21).  Now, why would God do such an alien work?  To expose our desperate need for Him to do His proper work, the work of the Gospel: forgiving our sins, comforting, consoling, healing, and raising to new life.  Which is what He does for us in Christ.  His proper work is that which is of His essence, that which is proper to His nature.  Faith knows that it is the nature of God to deliver in mercy.  Faith clings to that sure and certain hope even as God does His alien work of bringing down to death.

            So what do you do when it seems like God is giving you the silent treatment, ignoring you, turning His back, or worse, rejecting you as a dog?  You cling to Him all the tighter as you hear and believe His Promises in the Gospel, and eat and drink His Body and Blood in the Supper.  And then you throw His Promises in His face.  “Have mercy, Lord.  You must have mercy.  That is who You are!  I’m fine with the crumbs.  Just a few crumbs.  Like a dog, I’ll lick them up from the ground.  But do not forsake me.  Do not abandon me.  I am a poor, miserable sinner, yes, unworthy of your deliverance.  But You are good.  I trust in You.  Your steadfast love will never fail.”

            And this much is absolutely certain: He will deliver you.  It may even be in this life.  The woman’s daughter was healed instantly.  How many times have you recovered from a sickness?  Maybe God will end this pandemic.  Maybe He will spare our nation.  Then again, maybe not.  Because His deliverance is not something confined to this time and place.  It is not something penultimate.  It is ultimate.  He is not satisfied giving you crumbs.  He will give you the whole Feast.  And that is what happens on the great Day of deliverance when Christ comes again in glory to raise you from the dead.  Then every affliction will be healed.  Then all strife will be at an end.  Then the devil and his demons will be cast into the abyss of hell where they can never touch you again.  Never again will the Lord meet you with silence.  Never again will He seem to ignore you.  He will wipe every tear from your eyes.  You will live forever with Him in joy and blessedness.  That is the deliverance we’re really begging from God.  And it is impossible for Him not to give it.  It is proper to His very nature.  “Come, Lord Jesus, have mercy and deliver us.”  He will and He does.  He comes.  In the Name of the Father, and of the Son (+), and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.