“Inclusion” has always been one of my favorite words. I have proudly worn the word like a badge of honor and have been criticized by the religious culture for being “too inclusive.” Which, by the way, I consider affirmation that I am following the way of Jesus.
However, over time, I have been challenged to re-think the virtue of the word “inclusion.”
For five years or so, I was an Ambassador for an organization called Ainsley’s Angels. I recruited runners to include children and adults with disabilities (another word I have re-thought, preferring now to use “different abilities”) in 5Ks, 10Ks, or marathons, as they rode in what we called “chariots.”
The word “inclusion” was our mantra. Runners included those who could not run in the sport that they love. However, I quickly learned that the runners were not the only ones doing the including. The children and adults with Cerebral Palsy, Traumatic Brain Injury, Angelman Syndrome, Downs Syndrome and other diagnoses which impaired their ability to run, were actually including us in their lives. We even would say: “As runners, we don’t push our riders. They pull us. We are pulled by their positivity and joy across the finish line.”
They included us. They taught us, They challenged us, and they changed us. Perhaps more than anything, by including us in their lives, they taught us the virtue of empathy. How to really put ourselves in the shoes of another.
I believe that if we prayerfully think about the state of our divided nation today, it becomes obvious that what we have here is an empathy crisis. Some people just seem unable, or unwilling, to walk in the steps of another, to really hear, to listen, to truly understand and empathize with the groaning or the cries of others who are tormented by evil. Many are unwilling to leave their safe, protected bubble, where people who don’t look like them or live like them are excluded, to empathize with the cries of others yearning to be free, cries of others in their pursuit of some happiness, some acceptance, some affirmation and love, cries of others begging for a chance to just survive.
I believe this is why Jesus said: “On this, hangs all of the laws and message of the prophets, ‘you should love your neighbor as yourself’” (Matt 22:40). It is as if he was saying, “The entire Biblical witness comes down to this: “Love your neighbor and love your neighbor empathetically—as yourself. Which is to say: “put yourself in the shoes of another.”
I believe this morning’s gospel lesson has much to teach our nation today.
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.’
We hear this cry every day. Yet, many really don’t hear this cry. Many don’t understand this cry, nor want to understand this cry. Many don’t like this cry. Thus, never truly listen to the cry. To privileged ears, it’s just shouting. Strange, foreign shrieks that, frankly, we find offensive.
They are cries of mercy for a child tormented by demonic evil.
They are hopeful cries for a safer, more loving and just world for their child.
They are moral cries for equality.
They are cries for equal access to a quality education, for equal protection of the law, for fair living wages, for access to equitable healthcare.
They are prophetic cries against injustice.
They are cries against racism, against discrimination, against predatory loans, against voter suppression, against Gerrymandering, against oppressive government legislation. They cry out that their black and brown lives matter. For their queer lives to be seen and acknowledged.
Jesus’ first response to the cries is the most common response: it’s one of silence.
We know that response all too well. Silence, just silence.
If we ignore their cries, maybe they’ll go way. Responding to their cries will only stir things up, make things worse, uncover old wounds. And responding might cost us something. It might make us feel guilty. We may have to give up something. We might have to change something.
The second response comes from the disciples. It’s shocking, but not surprising. For it’s as familiar as silence: “Send her away.”
It’s the response of fear: fear of the other; fear that causes defense mechanism to go up; fear that breeds selfishness, anger, and hate.
Then, they blame the victim.
“What about her shouting?” “She keeps shouting.”
“What about the way she is behaving?” “She needs to be more respectable.” “She’s only making things worse.” “She needs to go away, get a life, get a job, go volunteer somewhere.” “She needs to learn some personal responsibility, stop begging for handouts and learn that God only helps those who help themselves.”
“They are what is wrong with this country.” “These snowflakes need to grow up, toughen up and shut up.” “And they need to learn that all lives matter.”
Jesus breaks his silence, but like the disciples, with words that are all too familiar. With words that are culturally popular; not biblically informed:
I was sent only to the lost sheep of the house of Israel.
“We should put our people first. We must look after our own interests. We need to do what is fair for us. We can’t give you a seat at our table, especially if you have needs. If you don’t possess the skills to help yourself, how can you help us?”
Nevertheless, she persisted. The outsider continues to protest. In an act of defiance, she takes a knee.
He answered (again with language culturally accepted; not divinely inspired):
It is not fair to take the children’s food and throw it to the dogs.
But the good news is that is not how the story ends.
The foreign mother from Canaan keeps shouting. She keeps fighting. She does not lose heart or hope. She believes that justice will come, truth will prevail, and love will win. She speaks truth to power saying:
Lord, at my house, the dogs eat at the same time we eat. Lord, at my table, there’s room and enough for all, especially for those tormented by evil.
And here is the really good news: Jesus listens to this outsider, and although he was neither Canaanite, nor female nor a parent, Jesus empathizes with this mother from Canaan. Jesus just doesn’t merely include this mother. He is not inviting her to accept what is culturally accepted in his religious bubble of doctrines or traditions. Jesus doesn’t expect her to assimilate to his culture and speak only his language.
Jesus is able and willing to do something that many are unable, or unwilling, to do these days; that is, to put ourselves in the shoes of the other. Jesus is able and willing to see the world as she sees it, bear the pain of it, experience the brokenness of it, sense the heartache and grief of it, feel the hate in it.
And because he is really listening, because he is truly paying attention, because he has what so many are lacking these days, because he has empathy, because Jesus truly hears her cries, I believe Jesus is outraged. I believe Jesus begins to suffer with her, offering her the very best gift that he has to offer, the gift of himself, which is breaking before her and for her.
Jesus loves her. He loves her empathetically, authentically, sacrificially. He loves her unconditionally, deeply, eternally.
And loving like that always demands action.
After hearing her cries, listening to her pleas, empathizing with her pain, becoming outraged by the demons that were tormenting her child, Jesus announces that her daughter will be set free from the evil that was oppressing her.
However, her daughter is not liberated by his love alone. She is liberated from her oppression, both by the love of Jesus, and by the persistent faith of her mother, this mother who would not give up, back down, shut up, or go away.
When we hear the cries of people our culture considers to be outsiders— instead of responding with typical silence; instead of criticizing their shouting, their protesting, their marching and their kneeling; instead of blaming them for their situation— if we will follow the holy command to love them as we love ourselves; if we will listen to them and allow their cries to penetrate our hearts; if we will empathize with them; if we will put ourselves in their shoes; walk in their steps; experience their plight; feel the sting of the hate directed toward them— then a place will suddenly become open at our table for them.
Outsiders become family. The underprivileged become equals from whom we can learn, be led, be challenged, and be changed.
And then, together— because the miracle we need today cannot happen unless more of us come together— together, with the one who is no longer a foreigner, no longer feared, no longer ignored, no longer ridiculed— together, in community, side by side, hand in hand, with faith in God, and with faithful, holy persistence— we will stand up, we will speak out and cry out, and we will fight the demonic evil today that is tormenting any of God’s beloved children.
Of course, there will be great cost involved, for the Bible teaches us that love is always costly. But the cost of refusing to love is greater.
I love reading what happened next (“the rest of the story,” as Paul Harvey used to say). It’s the story of justice coming, truth prevailing, and love winning.
Beginning with verse 29…
After Jesus had left that place, he passed along the Sea of Galilee, and he went up the mountain, where he sat down. Great crowds came to him, bringing with them the lame, the maimed, the blind, the mute, and many others. They put them at his feet and [without asking any questions about where they were from, what they believed, or what they had to offer] he cured them, so that the crowd was amazed when they saw the mute speaking, the maimed whole, the lame walking, and the blind seeing. And they praised the God of Israel (Matthew 15:29-31).
The words of the prophet Isaiah were fulfilled:
Foreigners were brought to God’s holy mountain, and there, experienced great joy in God’s house of prayer. They received the good news that God’s house of prayer is for all peoples. The good news is that their offerings are accepted, and God gathers the outcast and sits them beside those already gathered (from Isaiah 56).
Amen.
COMMISSIONING AND BENEDICTION
Go now and respond to the cries for justice.
Don’t ignore the cries. Don’t try to send them away.
Listen to them, empathize with them, love them.
Make them your sister, your brother.
And then, together— in the name of the God who is Love, the Christ who exemplified love and commanded love and the Holy Spirit who leads us to put our love into action—together, may we stand up, speak out and defeat the demonic evil that is tormenting God’s children, until justice comes, truth prevails, and love wins.
Just Love 