Braided Strands--August 2, 2023

Braided Strands--August 2, 2023

"Jesus left that place and went away to the district of Tyre and Sidon. Just then a Canaanite woman from that region came out and started shouting, ‘Have mercy on me, Lord, Son of David; my daughter is tormented by a demon.’ But he did not answer her at all. And his disciples came and urged him, saying, ‘Send her away, for she keeps shouting after us.’ He answered, ‘I was sent only to the lost sheep of the house of Israel.’ But she came and knelt before him, saying, ‘Lord, help me.’ He answered, ‘It is not fair to take the children’s food and throw it to the dogs.’ She said, ‘Yes, Lord, yet even the dogs eat the crumbs that fall from their masters’ table.’ Then Jesus answered her, ‘Woman, great is your faith! Let it be done for you as you wish.’ And her daughter was healed instantly." [Matthew 15:21-28]

So... is this a story about a mother's deep love for her daughter, or her fierce faith in Jesus?

It's both, of course.  And maybe it's a story that shows how often "faith" and "love" turn out not to be two discrete, separable things, but two sides of the same coin.  If I asked you to point to the evidence of this woman's faith in Jesus in this episode, you'd say, "Well, look, she loves her daughter enough to go to Jesus, confident that he is able to help, even despite the roadblocks that both his disciples and seemingly Jesus himself puts in her way."  And if I asked you to show me evidence of her love for her daughter, you'd say, "She's willing to leap out in faith that Jesus is not only able, but will ultimately be willing, to help heal her daughter."  You can't really extricate faith from love in this story, like you can't get the chocolate syrup back out of your chocolate milk once you've stirred them up. 

To be sure, there are other thorny issues with this story that probably make us wince when we read them.  Why does Jesus seem so standoffish about helping?  Does Jesus know how ugly his words sound, by essentially calling this woman a "dog" (a common slur against Gentiles in this time and culture)?  Does Jesus know about her deep faith all along somehow, and simply use this episode to tease out the belief he knows is waiting to be given voice--or does Jesus change his mind and reconsider his opinion of her as the scene unfolds?  I know--there's a lot that makes me uncomfortable about this story every time I read it, even in those times when I think I know what Jesus is up to.  But when I stop for a moment and look at the actions of this mother for her daughter, I find something solid to hold onto. She shows me that, even when I can't understand what Jesus may be up to in this story (or in my life, too), I can at least put my faith into action in love--or, to put it the other way around, do what love calls me to do through the direction my faith points me in.

Faith, of course, can never just be reduced to Facts-You-Memorize-About-God-For-The-Test, despite the many ways Respectable Religious Folks have done that to the notion of faith over the centuries.  It's not just mouthing the correct theological jargon, whether out of a creed, a catechism, or a tract someone handed you with a recipe for a prayer on the back page.  Faith, as our older brother in Christ Martin Luther once put it, is "a living, daring confidence in God's grace, so sure and certain that the believer would stake their life on it a thousand times."  In other words, faith leads us to take the next step, even when we can't see all of the road.  Faith is what lets us say, "I might well be scared about all the things beyond my control, but I am confident in the goodness and power of God to let me put one foot in front of the other and do what is within my purview for those I love."  Faith never merely sits still twiddling its thumbs, in other words--faith keeps expressing itself in love.

For the unnamed mother in this story, it is her love for her daughter that leads her to be willing to risk getting into trouble, being shamed, or being rejected when she steps out in faith toward Jesus.  There are so many ways that this episode could have ended with heartbreak--Jesus could have flat-out refused, or he could have made a public spectacle out of her, or his disciples could have succeeded in their efforts to play gatekeeper.  But she was willing to stare down all of those possibilities for the sake of the daughter whom she loved, because she really did trust deep down that there was a possibility that this Jesus she'd heard about could be both able and willing to heal her.  For her, faith could only be expressed in an act of sacrificial love for her daughter by putting herself out there before Jesus as she pleaded for help.  And love could only take the form of a leap of faith seeking mercy from a stranger she'd only ever heard about.  Ultimately for this woman and for us, faith and love are intertwined like the strands of a braid.

All too often, we church folks let somebody convince us that love and faith pull in different directions, and that we have to choose between them sometimes.  "I know you want to do the loving thing," they sometimes say, "but theologically correct faith won't let you."  Sometimes it's about who can be included.   Sometimes it's about who is welcome at the Table of Jesus.  Sometimes it's about who is permitted to lead.  And a lot of the time, there are voices convinced that "true faith" runs counter to the direction of "genuine love."  

So sometimes you'll hear, "You can't support your kid who has come out to you--not if you have 'True Faith'!  You have to pick and choose whether to hold fast to 'being right' or loving your child."  Or sometimes it's, "I know you would like to allow women in the pulpit, but we have decided that Officially Approved Faith will not allow for their leadership, no matter how loving your intentions."  And heartbreakingly, it is often, "I understand that you want to let those visitors come to take communion at our church, but until we double-check to make sure their theology is in sufficient agreement with our official policy, they're not allowed--you might upset Jesus."  We keep finding ways to try to sever "faith" from "love" like they can be in conflict, and as if we have to pick one or the other.  It's like we're missing the power of this mother's witness.

I recently came across a sermon of Dietrich Bonhoeffer's that has helped me to see the connections between faith and love more clearly.  In a sermon of his from 1934, the pastor-and-future-martyr says this:  "A church of faith--even if it is the most orthodox faith that faithfully adheres to the creeds--is of no use if it is not even more a church of pure and all-embracing love. What does it mean to believe in Christ who was love and still be full of hatred yourself? ...It is of no use for us to confess our faith in Christ if we have not gone first and reconciled ourselves to our brothers and sisters, even to the godless, racially different, ostracized, and outcast."  Bonhoeffer had discovered what the mother in this passage knew: you can't really separate living faith from genuine love.  Her faith in Jesus' power and ultimate willingness to help her daughter could not be severed from her love for her child.  To act in faith meant to act in love--even if there were "religious reasons" she should not have asked, or kept on pestering, or talked back to Jesus.  The disciples would have surely said to her, "Officially approved theology [faith] decrees that your daughter is not eligible for help." They would have told her that she could pick either loving her daughter [asking for help] or orthodox theology [according to them] that realized Jesus' help was not for her.  But this mother refuses to accept such a division. To love her daughter meant to act in faith, and to put her faith in action meant to reach out for the sake of the daughter whom she loved.  

Today, maybe it's worth taking a look at the places we've fallen for separating "faith" from "love," and the places we've accepted the idea that those two point in opposite directions sometimes.  Maybe it's worth reconsidering how living faith leads us to act in love, and how genuine love is guided by faith in God's goodness, even when "the rules" or the religious gatekeepers say otherwise.

What leaps might that lead us to take in this new day?

Lord Jesus, let our faith in you lead us to act in love.