Sermon for September 7, 2003:

13^th Sunday after Pentecost / Proper 18B

by The Rev. Susan Anslow Williams

with particular focus on Mark 7:24-37

 

 

A Child in Need

  

How far would you travel for healing? Across state lines?  Across the country?  Across an ocean? We are blessed here in Jamestown to have many options not too far away, from our own hospital that can treat nearly everything, to various, specializing hospitals within driving distance. How far would you go for your treatment?  My father (who is in the congregation today) has traveled from Arizona to Michigan – three times – in order to receive a precise surgery being pioneered there.  He also discovered that just because you travel a long way, doesn’t mean it’s going to work the first time around…

 

Others in this congregation travel routinely to Pittsburgh, or Cleveland, Erie or Buffalo, for particular doctors or regimens. What is your health worth to you?  Now consider: what is a loved-one’s health worth?  How far would you go, how much would you spend, to get them to that special place or person? Our Gospel passage this morning is about those distances – physical, social, theological – that people in first-century Palestine were willing to go in order to catch up with Jesus, famed healer extraordinaire, on behalf of someone they love – present or absent.

 

The Syro-phoenician woman tracks Jesus down in the Gentile region of Tyre, probably at the home of a Jewish patron, no doubt having to push or argue her way in to see him. But she’s good at that – using her wits to get close to him, and eventually to benefit from his healing power, on behalf of her sick daughter. More about this family unit in a moment.

 

In the second incident, as Jesus is back on the road, friends lead him to a man who is deaf and severely speech-impaired (as one would expect).  This person also receives healing, not because of his own faith but because of the persistence of his friends.

 

Here at St. Luke’s we offer the sacrament of healing regularly – including each Thursday at 7 a.m. – attendance at which many of you may indeed view as an extraordinary effort! (I’ll admit that sometimes it feels that way for me, too...) But in our Gospel this morning, we are told of some truly extraordinary efforts, by people who are risking something of themselves to seek help for one they care about.

 

I love both of these stories and would enjoy delving into each of them. But since you probably don’t wish to sit here half the day, let’s consider together the first healing story: that of the Gentile woman, willing to put up with insults from Jesus himself, and probably others on her way in,      so that she can beg for healing for her child.

 

Parents will frequently go to extreme lengths on behalf of a terribly ill child. We don’t think twice about that; and friends and churches often rally support to aid with costly treatments or transportation.  When I was serving in Buffalo, people I never would have guessed offered their time, skills, kitchens and homes to assist a family whose younger child developed leukemia.  

 

Jesus offered his compassion to all and didn’t charge for his healing skills – at least not monetarily; instead he expected something more radical: a change of life, newly focused in thanksgiving on God’s love and mercy.  The cost to this woman certainly went deeper than money or time: she had to cross fixed boundaries of religion and culture, gender and ethnicity; and be humiliated in the process. Perhaps she expected that.

 

Yet having come so far, she will not give up her quest. She has so much faith in Jesus’ abilities, apparently,  that she doesn’t bring the child or ask Jesus to come to her home – she simply begs for deliverance, trusting in his power to provide it and refusing to be turned away, even by his own rebuke.

 

I have preached in the past about the remarkable quality of their verbal exchange – the harshness of Jesus’ reply, the cleverness of the woman’s response, the amazing fact that not only does she best him in the argument but changes the course of his ministry to the Gentiles.  But today, thinking about this lesson in the context of the first week of school for many of our kids – including Margaret’s first days of Kindergarten – and on Emily’s second birthday, and as we present our new Church School program with registration and tours this morning, what strikes me this time is the parenting skills of this woman, a mother who is desperately concerned for the welfare of her child.

 

I thank God that our girls have never been so terribly ill, and I pray never shall be. But I would do all in my power to get them help, physical or spiritual. Something Margaret is  already beginning to complain about is that we do bring them to Jesus (probably too often) to meet him here in stories and in friendships and at the communion rail (an event they both love) – every week, they don’t have much choice about it! But how many children could be, should be, in these pews for the same...? 

 

Surveys and more scientific studies have shown that there are direct links between the moral behavior of children and the number of times a week they sit down with their parents and siblings at the dinner table. The family meal is a powerful event – at home, and here.  We learn, we share, we commiserate, we celebrate, we are fed. Young people soak it in, more than we know.

 

A child in our neighborhood announced to us the other day, “I don’t think my father cares about me very much.” When asked with surprise why he thought so, the child replied, “He never has dinner with me.  We’re in different rooms.” I doubt that this youngster has read many parenting magazines or psychological journals. But his comment, and the lifestyle they reflect, have become rather prevalent.

 

We become too busy to eat together, too pre-occupied to share what’s on our hearts, too tired to get up and devote a whole morning to God. Many parents, tired of the many  complaints that young people come up with -- plus that truly annoying whining tone they carefully practice on us – not to mention the devil on their other shoulder whispering how nice another hour or two of sleep really would be… Many parents cave in to the pressure and leave these pews unfilled. Look around you – can you a child who is absent today?  A family, a friend?

 

I hope that will change next week, on our “start up Sunday.”  By reworking our Church School into a really neat and creative series of workshops, the goal is that children will want to get up for it.  Other churches have reported this result. But getting everyone in the family re-motivated will also take some energy.

 

I realize that I don’t need to preach this message to you here this morning – you’ve already made the decision that there is something here worth getting up for,    something worth bringing yourself and perhaps your children to experience. (And if someone who loves you dragged you here today, well, you might as well try to enjoy it!)

 

Think of the lengths that Canaanite mother, known by scholars as “The Syro-phoenician woman” (we don’t even know her name) was willing to go to bring Jesus’ power of healing to her  child.  She uses her wits, she is not turned away by a multitude of setbacks, and trusts that it has been a success, as he has promised – she leaves the table in faith, as she arrived in faith.

 

As we get ready for our fall start-up next Sunday, please reflect on this story and consider inviting a child, a friend or a family, to come to St. Luke’s – for the first time, or  for the first time in a while. We offer a unique opportunity in this day and culture: a guaranteed encounter with the living God, in Word, Sacrament and fellowship; we offer stories that are frequently more interesting than cartoons and always more instructive; even free food and beverages. The healing offered by Jesus Christ is close at hand and a lot less expensive than, say, a trip to the Cleveland Clinic or Roswell Park.  Help spread the good news, won’t you?