Before the Healing

Sermon given at Louisville Presbyterian Theological Seminary
December 3, 2012

Reading: Matthew 15:21-28 

Gringa was the name I was most often called throughout the year I spent in Peru, a general term used for white foreigner. I was also called blancita, gordita, flakita, names relating to my skin color, my size, my height - the obvious markers of my physical identity.

When I first arrived in the Andean town of Huánuco as a Young Adult Volunteer, I knew I would be an outsider. So, I wasn’t too surprised when, after a few weeks, I had compiled a rather long list of local nick-names I had received. However, after settling into the small mountain town where I lived and worked, I became aware of unexpected aspects of my otherness.

One day while roaming the open air market place, I heard a term that I was less familiar with. Amidst the frantic exchange of live chickens and heaps of potatoes, a little girl’s voice cut through the busy crowd. She tugged on her mother’s traditional embroidered skirt and pointed directly at me, declaring loudly in the indigenous language “pishtaqa!”

That night, far removed from the chaos of the marketplace, I asked my host father what “pishtaqa” meant. “Who called you that?” he responded, sounding worried and protective. “Just a little girl in the market,” I replied.

He went on to explain that I had just inherited an unwelcome legacy, one that carried enormous cultural baggage between the indigenous population and its historical encounters with foreigners.

My host father explained that “pishtaqa” was used in the Quechuan language to refer to the dangers of foreign visitors. More specifically it stemmed from a local fear which had grown to a widespread myth, that light-skinned foreigners were apt to kidnap, steal and even murder local children. In Quechua, the term “pishtaqa” literally means “butcher.”

When I learned this I was horrified. How could I possibly convey such a threatening image and be connected to something so brutal? My host father reassured me that the little girl’s declaration in the market place was fairly harmless, especially coming from a child. However, it did speak of deep-seated impressions of the “outsider,” the “other” and all the fears, assumptions, and even dangers which that would entail.

Just as my identity as a white foreigner carried with it historically inscribed associations, so does the unnamed woman in our Scripture reading and her identity as a Canaanite. Rather than describe her as a Greek or Gentile from Syrophoneocia, as in the Gospel of Mark, the author of Matthew chooses a more controversial term - an ancient name that references a specific aspect of Jewish history and its antagonistic relationship with the Canaanites.

With this designation, Canaanite, one recalls God’s imperative to the people of Israel to “make no covenant with them, and show them no mercy” (Deut 7:2). The term Canaanite therefore carries heavy layers of meaning and historical baggage, not unlike the term “pishtaqa.”

My encounter in the marketplace where I first received this title made an impact on my entire experience in Peru. I was first confused, then shaken and even hurt by the implications of this name. I initially wanted to clear the record, to ensure that no one else mistakenly saw meas a threat. I wanted to convince this community that I had just entered, that I could be trusted.

In essence, I wanted to rush toward reconciliation rather than wrestle with the uncomfortable reality at hand. I desperately wanted to heal the wound of past abuse and exploitation against the indigenous community. I thought that was where the center of my story lay.

This is often how we read the story of the Canaanite woman. We admittedly don’t want to stay in the uncomfortable areas of the text - the moments when the woman is ignored and later rejected by Jesus after she asks for healing for her daughter. We’d rather not consider the possibility that Jesus, in his humanness, reverted to the social and religious prejudice of his time, reinforcing boundaries between the chosen and the marginalized.

We prefer to fast forward to the point where Jesus has a moment of transformation, when he suddenly changes his approach to the woman. By doing so, we focus on the desirable outcome of the healing that takes place, instead of acknowledging the inherent conflict in the text.

Let us consider whether Jesus’ act of healing is in fact the most profound element of this story. Is this healing the focal point of the Good News message, the reason for the story’s proclaimed hope?

Some interpretations focus solely on Jesus’ agency in this event, viewing the incident as a means for Jesus to test the woman’s faith or to offer instruction to the disciples. This perspective locates the narrative’s pivotal point in Jesus’ act of teaching.

However, if we look more closely, it is in fact the unnamed Canaanite woman who offers the most voice and action, serving as the main catalyst for change.

By hastily moving toward the redemptive moment of healing or teaching in this New Testament story, one fails to hear the prophetic voice of the Canaanite woman.

If we apply this to each of our vocations, how often do we focus on our public acts of ministry, on our active expressions of service? We want to lift up the doing, the acting, the healing. But as a result, we fail to recognize the alarming voices around us which often demand deeper realizations within our own faith.

Is not the Canaanite woman one of these alarming voices? Might she even be a prophetic voice, yet one that is often overshadowed by Jesus’ miraculous healing?

In the Hebrew Bible, a true prophet was understood as one who did not bring good news or convenient truths. As the Kingdom of Israel was being established, prophets were unafraid to speak critically of political authority, especially if there was an opportunity to avert future disaster.

In his book The Prophetic Faith,theologian Martin Buber notes that the intention of the individual prophets was to call on the Israelite community as well as its leaders to make conscious choices about present events. As Buber notes, this form of prophecy emphasized “the divine demand for human decision,” and the opportunity to repent and turn toward God.

If we look carefully at our Gospel story, this prophetic initiative is precisely what the Canaanite woman provides.

The Canaanite woman is active amidst crisis, the crisis of her own daughter’s condition as well as the crisis of an inattentive leader, in this case Jesus himself. The woman is first ignored by Jesus and urged to be sent away by the disciples. She is then rejected by Jesus in his painful declaration “It is not fair to take the children’s food and throw it to the dogs.” However, the woman does not express embarrassment or anger and does not allow herself to be victimized.

In a profound moment of courage and wisdom, the woman creatively and boldly challenges Jesus’ words - revealing the injustice that she has endured. She reminds Jesus that“Even the dogs eat the crumbs that fall from their masters’ table.” This brave and startling declaration directly challenges Jesus’ approach to ministry and provides the impetus for his profound reversal.

The woman exposes a power dynamic that is not consistent with Jesus’ teachings of compassion and non-judgment. She demands that Jesus make a conscious choice about her condition and by extension the human condition. This, I think, reflects Buber’s description of prophesy as “a divine demand for human decision.”

The woman’s voice challenges and profoundly reorients Jesus’ approach to healing. As a result, the woman compels Jesus to listen, to respond and to act on her behalf. However, the woman’s influence on Jesus does not stop here. Her urgent demand goes beyond her immediate needs and has a widespread impact on the surrounding community.

Following the encounter with the woman, Jesus leaves the region of Tyre and Sidon and rests on a mountain along the coast. It is here that large crowds approach him with a litany of pleas for miraculous healing.

Having been forever altered by his encounter with the Canaanite woman, Jesus does not question, resist or deny these requests. Having been compelled to reclaim his calling by the Canaanite woman, Jesus immediately heals the crowd from their various ailments.

If a true prophet is one who urges a dramatic reorientation towards one’s divine calling, isn’t this what the Canaanite woman does for Jesus? A divine calling that not only acknowledges the woman’s personal needs but the needs of the larger community.

This text calls on us to pay close attention to the voice of the unnamed woman. Rather than move quickly to the desirable outcome of healing, one is challenged to recognize the underlying power dynamics and complacent leadership. We are compelled to recognize and lift up the ways in which the woman confronts these difficult realities. We are called to see the agent of change, the agent of Good News, as the woman herself.

The Canaanite woman implores us to be awakened to the voices in our midst, voices like the little girl I encountered in the market – voices that expose systems or historical patterns of injustice. Rather than attempt to counteract the anxiety and suspicion that locals had toward me, rushing toward reconciliation, I realized there was much more to learn, more voices to consider.

Rather than brush aside this exchange as ungrounded, prejudice or merely a child mimicking culturally prescribed words, it caused me to want to understand further the historical power dynamics embedded in this Peruvian community.

Similarly, if we prioritize the moment of reconciliation that occurs in this story of the Canaanite woman, we fail to hear the radical voice of truth, the voice that demands that we look deeper, that we stay longer in this place of discomfort in order to recognize the tensions that exist. If we charge forward to the moment of redemptive healing, we overlook the real source of Good News.

Like Jesus, we are impacted and changed by our encounters with others. Like Jesus we must reorient our approaches to ministry in order to honor the alarming and even prophetic voices of those we are serving with and for. We must make room in our public ministries to lift up the truthful declarations of people like the Canaanite woman.

When we encounter individuals like the woman in this text, might their prophetic voices bring a new sense of vitality and awareness to our own spiritual sensibilities, to our own sense of call.

Through the grace of God, may we serve with such awareness and may it lead to true healing.