The Pharisees persist in nitpicking about the law, and frustrated by another encounter with them - this time they challenge Jesus about not washing hands before eating - so frustrated yet again . . .  Jesus withdraws from the crowds, not to the mountains but this time outside the bounds of Israel, crossing the fertile plains into the country of Tyre and Sidon.  While a significant Jewish population resides beyond the borders of Galilee, the country of Tyre and Sidon is mostly a country of Canaanites, of Gentiles, of those living outside the Jewish faith and not adhering to its customs.  And it is upon one of these, a non-Jew, an extraordinary woman who blasts her way into the scene - it is upon her that we find the spotlight today.  She is a Gentile - a woman, a mother, a mother of an ailing child, one whose daughter is possessed by a demon.  She has heard about this Jew named Jesus who comes from Galilee - this man who stops hemorrhages, who raises the dead, who gives sight to the blind and speech to the mute, who feeds 4000 people with seven loaves and a few fish, and who announces God’s presence and the emergence of God’s reign like a seed popping up through the soil or like yeast bubbling up through moistened flour.  She has heard about this Jew named Jesus and turns to him, confident - certain - that he can bring life and healing to her suffering child.  Unlike the Pharisees who quarrel with Jesus and find fault with everything he does, this Gentile woman perceives that something revolutionary is happening in the life of this wandering Jew from Galilee.  “Have mercy on me, Lord, Son of David” - not soothsayer, not seer, not physician, not priest - but , “LORD, have mercy.”

    This desperate Gentile woman has thrown herself on the mercy of this amazing man only to precipitate what may be the most embarrassing moment in all the gospels.  How can it be that this man of compassion whose reputation of healing and mercy follows him wherever he goes, how is it that he initially responds to her plea in silence?  The disciples then seize this moment of silence to encourage Jesus to turn this annoying woman away.  And if all this isn’t bad enough, Jesus responds to the disciples plea with a jarring statement that all his teaching, his healing, his miracles of compassion are meant exclusively for the people of Israel - for the Jews alone, for the people of the covenant.  And then it gets even worse!  The woman is steadfast; she is persistent; she will not give up; she will not relent; and she begs for Jesus’ mercy yet again, this time dropping to her knees before a man who by all appearances seems to be rejecting her.  Still . . . seemingly unmoved Jesus now responds by inferring that the woman and her daughter are dogs!

    How do we overcome our embarrassment?  We have a statement on a sign outside our church; we have a statement that appears every week on the front of our bulletins; we have a statement that appears on our website - a statement that says, “By God’s grace we strive to be inclusive in word and deed because we share in the unconditional love of Christ.”  When Jesus says he has come only for the people of Israel and when he stoops so low as to call a Gentile woman a dog, where is the Jesus whose unconditional love is the very foundation of our faith?

    There have been many attempts to explain away the embarrassment of Jesus’ exclusive statement.  Some have suggested that Jesus is just testing the woman’s faith.  Some have suggested that Jesus himself is unsure about whether or not his mission was indeed to the Gentiles or just the Jews and that this is a moment of reckoning for him.  Others have even suggested that Jesus is deliberately trying to humble this woman.

    As we here today wrestle with this problem, however, one important consideration is the author of this gospel.  Problems arise only if we consider this story an historical record without taking into consideration the historical context of the gospel.  Jesus echoes the instructions he has already given to the disciples earlier in Matthew’s gospel, to go nowhere among the Gentiles but to preach, heal, raise the dead, cleanse, and cast out demons only among the lost sheep of Israel (Matthew 10:5-6).  Matthew writes for a Jewish Christian community - one that still feels the crushing fall of Jerusalem and the destruction of the temple in 70 A.D.  God has not abandoned you, Matthew cries.  Despite the destruction of the temple God’s faithfulness to the covenant is indestructible.

    Into the sidebar conversation that Jesus has with his disciples about the lost sheep of Israel comes a cry for help, a last ditch effort to find for her daughter a way out of her darkness.  “Lord, help me.”  Why, oh why, does Jesus then infer that this poor woman is a dog?  Some have suggested that this statement simply is not an authentic saying of Jesus and that it is the concoction of conservative Jewish Christians opposed to any mission to the Gentiles.  Yes, disagreements between conservatives and liberals have plagued the church since its very inception.  In Paul’s letter to the Galatians we read about the apostolic council of the early church where Paul, Peter, and other leaders of the early church bring before the council their differing views on Gentile mission, and it is there that Paul and Peter shake hands and claim the gospel for ALL the world.

    But what of the dog remark?  Some suggest that this statement is not really as harsh as we think because the Greek for “dogs” is really a diminutive form and better translates as “puppies.”  To say this is to simply overlay our own fondness for cute little beagles on what really is a word to refer to a household animal as opposed to a stray or wild dog.  Whatever the word it clearly is derogatory!  There are others who have suggested that Jesus is just a man of his day, a bigot and a chauvinist.  

    Whether the story is real as is or altered to suit Matthew’s agenda, whether it is conservatives bearing their imprint on this text of the early church or simply our misinterpretation of the Greek words - we still are left with the tension of this embarrassing story.  How can we reconcile this Jesus who says his mission is only for Israel with the baby in the manger who receives his first gifts from wise men from far away?  (Matthew 2:1-12) How do we reconcile this Jesus who implies that this Gentile woman’s plea is an affront to the preferred status of the people of Israel with the Jesus who willingly entered the foreign country of the Gadarenes and healed two possessed by demons (Matthew 8:28-34) and who healed a Roman centurion in Capernaum (Matthew 8:5-13)?  How do we reconcile this Jesus who calls a Gentile woman a dog with the Jesus who says, “Come to me, all you that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest”?    (Matthew 11:28)

    Could it be that Jesus is having a rough day?  Could it be that he is more human than we like to think?  Could it be that indeed this is a moment of reckoning for Jesus?  This is the same Jesus that threw a tantrum in the temple in Jerusalem.  Could it be that this is a time when Jesus experiences a moment of uncertainty?  It is the same Jesus that wept in the garden of Gethsemane.  Could it be that this is a moment when Jesus is as much in need as the woman who kneels in desperation before him?  It is the same Jesus who bled on the cross.

    Could it be that in this moment - of frustration, of exhaustion, of uncertainty, perhaps of reckoning - could it be that an angel intrudes upon Jesus’ search for escape from the Pharisees and the crowds?  She is not winged and dressed in white.  She is not a cherub or a china doll.  She does not guard Jesus and his disciples from difficulty and challenge.  Rather she rushes in larger than life, louder than church bells, harsher than a dissonant chord.  She rushes into the spotlight, making demands but trusting in Jesus’ compassionate instincts. 

    Yes, I do dare to suggest that this woman is no dog but an angel in disguise who comes to rattle Jesus’ chains in a moment of temptation.  And as she does, she brings with her a saving message - a message of need - but while these needs may on the surface seem very personal, the needs about which she speaks are also the limitless, boundless needs of the world.  “The WORLD needs you, Jesus, as much as Israel,” this angel cries, “and I need you now!”  And in this moment the good news of Jesus Christ becomes good news for all, and the mission of Jesus Christ becomes the mission for all,