Isaiah 56:1(2-5)6-7
Psalm 67
Romans 11:13-15,29-32
Matthew 15:21-28
I was feeling a little depressed on Friday. It was my middle son's 41st birthday, and he was far away. And I had just returned from visiting my sister-in-law, who is a great-great-grandmother. That sorta locates me, age-wise. Then I got in my car and turned on the radio; the first thing I heard was a report of a study showing that older people with signs of depression are more likely to get Alzheimer's disease. Well! When I heard that, I really got depressed!
All these things reinforced for me the fact that I am not only getting older, but losing "clout" in the world. We live in a society that values youth and health and good looks and, alas, money, which in part helps those who have it to buy extended youth, better health, and certainly better looks. I don't know that it's any different from what it's always been: the "good old days" never really were. But it's nice to know that God doesn't see it that way.
That's why I love this reading from Isaiah: God says to the outcasts of society, "Don't be depressed! Don't say 'I am just a dry tree!' In my eyes you are worth everything!"
Believe me, in the ancient Near East a eunuch was on the lowest social rung. Such a man was not, according to the law, allowed to enter the Temple and offer sacrifice. And as for foreigners-well! They were no more popular then than they are now; the kind of hatred and hostility toward "aliens" that we unfortunately feel all around us was no stranger to ancient Israel, either. And yet God says that these people are welcome and honored and beloved. Isn't God odd?
Even Jesus had some learning to do about this. Early in his ministry he wasn't interested in having anything to do with Gentiles. He believed that he was sent "only to the lost sheep of the house of Israel," and that was a big enough job. But this woman from Tyre forced the issue out into the open; she made him confront the limitations of the place and time in which he lived, the values that had been taught him by his parents and friends and the teachers of the law. She made him see that, even though she was a foreigner, she was as much entitled-yes, entitled!-to God's mercy as anyone. (Of course God's mercy is free gift; but God has decided that it belongs to all of us, and therefore each is as much entitled as the next. No standing in line; no going to the back of the bus.) Paul says it: God's plan is to be merciful to all, to everyone, not just to some, not just to those who are rich and young and good-looking and smart and "from around here."
And Jesus learned from that woman. He not only healed her daughter on the spot; he must have thought long and hard about the incident, about what she said, about her faith and her persistence. Because at the end of his life, when he went into the Temple and threw the moneychangers' tables around, what did he say? "My house shall be called a house of prayer for all peoples." That is part of the Isaiah passage we read, the passage about the blessing of outcasts and foreigners. Jesus wasn't angry because there were moneychangers in the Temple: they had to be there to convert foreign coins with images of the emperor into the right kind of coins for use in that holy place. He wasn't angry because people were selling birds and animals for sacrifice: that was the only way the people could be sure of getting "clean" animals, without blemishes and so fit for sacrifice, at fair prices.
Jesus was angry because the Temple system in his day was discriminatory: there was a "Court of the Gentiles," and foreigners couldn't go beyond it, couldn't get close to God's sanctuary. Inside that, there was a "Court of the Women," and Jewish women couldn't go beyond that. God's holiest place was reserved for Jewish men who were "fit," who had no blemishes or missing parts. Those other men, the eunuchs and people missing limbs and such, they weren't "all there," you might say: and isn't it funny that we talk the same way about people with mental illness, or people whose minds are slowing down with age? You can see why I made the connection between this text and that report I heard about Alzheimer's.
Jesus "got it," after his run-in with that woman. He demanded, even with violent action, that his Father's house should be a "house of prayer for all people," with no bars and gates and entrance requirements. It took his church a while to catch on; they had some heavy arguments and even violent fights in the early years about who could be a member of the church and who couldn't, whether you had to be a Jew first, whether men had to be circumcised, whether women had to keep their kitchens kosher. They settled it after a while because there were just so many Gentiles coming in that they pretty much took over. But that insider-outsider mentality never quite went away. It's a human frailty, after all, and the church is full of human beings-including, thanks be to God, the Founder himself, the Son of God who became one of us, really, really, one of us, able to grow and learn and change, so that we can know that there's hope for us all.
And every now and then we get it right. This button I am wearing has a statement on it by our former Presiding Bishop, Edmond Browning: "This church of ours is open to all. There will be no outcasts." We say, "The Episcopal Church welcomes you," and we try to mean it. No matter whether society thinks you're wonderful, or whether it thinks you're "just a dry tree," whether it thinks you're an "alien" or no better than a dog, we (on our better days) say: "Come on in! God's mercy is for everyone. No exceptions!"
If Friday was a low day for me, Saturday was a high time. On Saturday I became a Benedictine oblate at St. Benedict's monastery in St. Joseph. The tradition of St. Benedict goes far, far back in Christian history and, thank God, is one of the treasures that the Anglican churches have held fast to. Oblates don't live in the monastery, but they promise to live by the spirit of Benedict's rule in their daily lives in the world. One of the best-known parts of the Rule is the part about hospitality: "Let everyone that comes be received as Christ." Imagine if we all practiced that! Imagine if every time we opened the front door on a political candidate or somebody canvassing for one, or somebody selling magazine subscriptions or restaurant coupons, or cable service we automatically saw the face of Christ on whoever has come by to interrupt our dinner hour!
Imagine what it would be like if the doors of our churches were open to all comers; if there really were no outcasts, and every church that calls itself Christian was willing to be a house of prayer for all peoples!-not asking whether those people were "worthy" of God's mercy! Imagine what it would be like if our lives were open windows on God's love, so that everyone who looked at us would see the face of Jesus Christ!
Imagine the kingdom of God. Won't it look just like that?