The Way Back

The Rev. Dr. Skip Ferguson

Manassas Presbyterian Church

Manassas, Virginia

September 27, 2015

The Way Back

Leviticus 16:29-31

“This shall be a statute to you forever:

In the seventh month,

on the tenth day of the month,

you shall deny yourselves, and shall do no work,

neither the citizen

nor the alien who resides among you.

For on this day atonement shall be made for you,

to cleanse you;

from all your sins you shall be clean before the Lord.

It is a sabbath of complete rest to you,

and you shall deny yourselves;

it is a statute forever.”

********************************

It is the year 5776,

the month of Tishrei.

Or at least that would be the date

if we followed the Hebrew calendar.

Our calendars are built around

the birth of our Lord Jesus Christ,

but the Hebrew calendar starts long before Jesus,

long before Moses,

long even before Abraham.

The Hebrew calendar takes as its start date

God’s creation of humanity through Adam and Eve.

The Hebrew calendar was created

more than a thousand years ago

by a rather imperfect, imprecise attempt

to count the years backward

to fix a date when Adam and Eve first took form

according to Genesis.

It is not a “creationist’s” calendar;

it is a calendar that starts, rather

with the creation of humankind

as told by the book of Genesis

as a way to mark and measure time.

A thousand years ago,

it seemed logical and sensible

to create a calendar in this manner.

Our own calendar has its own imprecision:

since even after 2000 years,

we still don’t know the exact day,

the exact month, the exact year –

when our Lord Jesus was born.

Look at the Hebrew calendar and you’ll find

special observances scattered

throughout the year,

in much the same way we observe

the birth of our Lord,

his death,

and his resurrection.

For our Jewish brothers and sisters

there is Passover, of course;

and Hanukah;

and this time of year, Rosh Hashanah,

also known as the Jewish New Year.

The calendar page turns

and a new year begins on the Hebrew calendar.

Rosh Hashanah is not a single day,

like New Year’s Eve.

It is a holy time, spread over 10 days;

a time that is more like our Lent,

in that it is a time of repentance,

a time of renewal,

a time of redemption.

Rosh Hashanah culminates in what is

the holiest day of the year,

the day called Yom Kippur,

the Day of Atonement,

which this year was this past week:

it started at sundown on Tuesday

and ran through Wednesday.

In our lesson,

we heard God speak to his children,

our ancestors in faith,

telling them to set aside this special day,

this Yom Kippur:

“For on this day,

atonement shall be made for you,

to cleanse you;

from all your sins

you shall be clean before the Lord.

…This shall be a statute to you forever…”

Yom Kippur is a day of forgiveness.

It is a day of repentance,

a day to remember how easy it is to stray from God

and how all need to be washed clean,

made whole through forgiveness,

forgiveness given freely, without condition,

by the Lord God.

Yom Kippur is a day to

seek forgiveness from God;

a day to seek forgiveness from others.

It is a day to offer forgiveness, as well,

to any, to all

                          

Yom Kippur is a day to be reconciled,

to let go of anger and grudges,

to bind up divisive wounds

that separate and push apart.

It is a day to remember that it is God’s will

that all God’s children live in community,

live in peace.

                          

Yom Kippur is a solemn day

with its fasting and prayers of repentance.

But it is also a joyful day

because it is a day of redemption for all.

It is a day of new beginnings;

the old is past, and new life awaits.

The word “sin” is wrapped up in repentance,

but within the Jewish tradition,

that word conveys quite a different meaning

from the meaning we often think it conveys

within our Christian faith.

We Christians hear the word “sin”

and we tend to equate it with “bad”,

a sin is something “bad” we’ve done,

a sinner is “bad” person,

even an “unworthy” person.

But the Hebrew word for sin

doesn’t translate as “bad”;

rather, it translates as something that  

“misses the mark,

has gone astray.”

The Greek word in the New Testament

means much the same thing as the Hebrew word:

miss the mark, gone astray.

Over the centuries we’ve loaded the word “sin”

with meaning that isn’t there.

To sin isn’t to be bad,

to sin is make a bad choice.

A sinner isn’t a bad person;

a sinner is a child of God

who has made a bad choice,

a bad decision,

and, as a result, has missed the mark

God has set for him or her;

the child has gone astray.

A sinner is never unworthy in the eyes of God,

for the sinner was created by God,

created by God’s love.

God didn’t think Adam and Eve

were unworthy or bad.

God punished them

but not because he thought them bad;

God punished them because

they had disobeyed him.

They made a bad choice

in listening to the serpent and

taking the fruit from the tree

when God had told them not to do it.

                                   

As the theologian Shirley Guthrie has written,

“The basic truth is not that we are sinners,

but that we are human beings

created in God’s image.

…Our sinfulness is something unnatural.

That is why it is such a problem.”

Sins turns us away from God,

when God created us to turn to him,

to draw near to him.

In the words of the Reverend Frederick Buechner:

“sin is whatever we do or fail to do

that pushes us away from God,

that widens the gap between us and God.”

To repent is simply to turn back

when we’ve gone astray;

to turn away from the path

that caused us to miss the mark.

Repentance leads us on the way back,

Repentance leads us back to God

where we will find ready forgiveness.  

Knowing that there is always a way back,

back to God,

back to forgiveness from God,

back to the fold of grace,

then makes it easier to provide a way back

sthrough forgiveness offered to others.

That’s the essence of Yom Kippur,

and why, even in its solemnity there is joy:

that no matter how wide the breach,

there is always a way back to forgiveness;

that no matter how great the hurt,

there is always a way back to reconciliation.

Yom Kippur provides a wonderful gift to us,

as well as to our Jewish brothers and sisters,

for Yom Kippur reminds us of the gift of forgiveness,

the importance of forgiveness.

Yom Kippur reminds us

that there is always a way back.

The breach between parent and chld,

brother and sister,

husband and wife,

neighbor and neighbor,

the breach within,

because sometimes forgiving ourselves

is harder than forgiving others –

any breach,

every breach can be repaired.

There is always a way back.

With hard work, of course;

forgiveness isn’t easy.

But forgiveness is,

as theologian Miraslov Wolf has written,

“what it means to be a follower of Jesus Christ.

For it doesn’t just relieve us from

bitterness and resentment,

it enacts love,

laying the foundation for love…”

Barbara Brown Taylor always manages to put things

in wonderful perspective

and on forgiveness, she has observed,

“If God is willing to stay with me

in spite of my meanness,

my weakness,

my stubborn self-righteousness,

then who am I to hold those same things

against someone else?”

Barbara Brown Taylor understands that

there is always a way back for her.

And she also understands

that in the same way she is called to offer

a way back through forgiveness to any,

to all.

This is the lesson of Yom Kippur:

a day on the calendar,

a lesson in Scripture,

to remind us,

move us,

call us to forgiveness:

to repent,

to receive forgiveness,

to offer forgiveness,

all God’s children finding a way back –

back to the joy of reconciliation,

back to the fold of grace,

back to the arms of love.

AMEN

Heart First

The Rev. Dr. Skip Ferguson

Manassas Presbyterian Church

Manassas, Virginia

September 20, 2015

Heart First

Selected Texts

“As in all the churches of the saints,

women should be silent in the churches.

For they are not permitted to speak,

but should be subordinate,

as the law also says.

If there is anything they desire to know,

let them ask their husbands at home.

For it is shameful for a woman to speak in church.”

(1 Corinthians 14:34)

Thanks be to God?

“Let all who are under the yoke of slavery

regard their masters as worthy of all honor.”

(1 Timothy 6:1)

Thanks be to God?

“Let a woman learn in silence

with full submission.

I permit no woman to teach

or to have authority over a man;

she is to keep silent.”

(1 Timothy 2:11)

Thanks be to God?

“Slaves, obey your earthly masters

with fear and trembling,

in singleness of heart, as you obey Christ;

…Render service with enthusiasm…”

(Ephesians 6:5)

Thanks be to God?

Four passages from Holy Scripture,

the New Testament;

passages from the letter

to the Corinthians,

the letters to Timothy,

the letter to the Ephesians.

We hear the words proclaimed,

but who among us would want

to respond with,

“Thanks be to God”

when we hear the reader say,

“The Word of the Lord.”

Yet there they are,

words from Holy Scripture:

“Women be silent, subordinate;

Slaves be obedient,

serve with fear and trembling.”

For centuries those passages

were preached with conviction;

And women kept silent,

while slaves served obediently and fearfully.

Things have changed, of course,

but it begs the question, why?

Why have things changed?

The words themselves haven’t changed;

they are still the word of the Lord,

still part of Holy Scripture.

It isn’t because we’ve learned

that we’ve been translating the Greek

from those passages all wrong all these years,

and that they really say,

“Women: speak up, speak out;

God gave you a voice;

speak boldly and confidently.”

We haven’t found among the Dead Sea Scrolls

anything that says,

“Pay no attention to those cranky letters.

Slaves, walk away from your servitude.

You owe obedience to no one but the Lord God.”

The words haven’t changed.

What has changed is our understanding.

Over the centuries we have learned.

Over the centuries we’ve grown in

knowledge and wisdom

in how we interpret the Word of the Lord.

                                   

We’ve learned that women are created

in the image of God

in the same way that men are.

We’ve learned that slavery is inhuman, inhumane,

No one should be subservient,

servile, submissive.

We read the words as they were written,

but we read them now, today,

with different meaning,

different understanding

than how our ancestors in faith read them

200 years ago,

500 years ago,

2000 years ago.

We’ve learned,

at least here in the Presbyterian Church,

that the Bible isn’t to be read literally,

as a set of legalistic writings,

rules set in proverbial stone.

                          

We’ve learned to read the written Word

as reflecting the conditions and circumstances

of the times and places in which the words

were written so long ago.

We’ve learned that the written word

is a way that God reveals himself to us,

and so we’ve learned to read the words,

the sentences,

the stories, the parables

to see God in them,

to see God at work,

to learn about God,

to learn about God and us,

our relationship with God.

We read the words of Scripture

not to memorize rules,

but to deepen our understanding of God;

deepen our knowledge,

deepen our faith.

And we’ve learned that if are

to read the written word

as a way to understand God

more completely and more deeply,

then we need to read Scripture

in a way that reveals love,

deepens love,

widens love, expands love,

for Scripture teaches us that God is love.

We’ve learned that we need to read Scripture

heart first.

It is our Lord Jesus Christ who teaches us this,

helps us to understand this.

Time and time again,

Jesus himself refused to abide

by the literal word of Scripture

when doing so would have failed to yield

mercy, goodness,

forgiveness,

justice, love.

There are many examples of Jesus

walking this path.

We looked at what is probably

the most compelling example back in July,

when we looked at the story of

the adulterous woman,

the story we find in John’s gospel,

(John 8:1)

the story of a woman who was guilty of adultery,

caught in the act,

and didn’t deny her guilt.

                                                     

Holy Scripture was clear on the punishment,

the penalty.

The Law of Moses, which we also call

the Pentateuch, made it clear that

adultery was a crime punishable by death.

Had Jesus simply followed Scripture,

followed the written word

as an obedient child of God,

he would have picked up a rock

and stoned the woman,

encouraging others to join him,

all of them following the words of scripture.

But of course, Jesus did no such thing.

He acted with grace and mercy.

He acted in a way that widened love.

He acted heart-first.

Now in doing so,

he didn’t just breeze by the woman’s guilt.

No, he was clear on that too:

saying to her, “don’t do it again.”

But he acted with love and compassion

as he offered forgiveness.

Jesus, our Rabbi –

which is the Hebrew word for Teacher –

helps us to understand,

helps us to grow in knowledge,

that we are to read Scripture heart first.  

It is how we have come to new understanding

on controversial issues:

slavery 155 years ago;

the role of women 50 years ago;

ordination and now the right to marry

for gay women and men.

There was a fascinating article

in the New York Times

the other day about a new play

that just opened off Broadway,

a play entitled “The Christians”.

It isn’t a comic send up, like The Book of Mormon.

It is a serious look at interpretation.

http://www.nytimes.com/2015/09/18/theater/review-in-the-christians-a-schism-over-fire-and-brimstone.html?ref=theater&_r=0

A pastor leads a large megachurch.

He’s hugely popular,

and people come to his church

by the thousands to hear his mesmerizing preaching.

Among their important beliefs is that

anyone who fails to accept Jesus Christ

as Lord and Savior is condemned to spend

all eternity in the tormenting fires of hell.

The pastor has an epiphany one day

after hearing about a young boy

who lived in a war-torn country

who ran into a burning store

to save his sister from the flames.

The boy rescued his sister,

and got her to safety,

but he himself died of the burns he suffered

as he pulled his sister out of the store.

The pastor struggled mightily

with the idea that the heroic young boy

would be doomed to spend eternity in torment

because he was not a professed Christian.

It was what the pastor had always believed

the Bible taught.

But suddenly it made no sense,

it made no sense if God was and is

a God of love and mercy.

Why would God torture and torment anyone,

much less for all eternity?

And so he told his congregation

that his interpretation of Scripture had changed,

his understanding.

The reaction from his congregation was not good:

most reacted with anger.

They didn’t share their pastor’s interpretation.

They knew what the Bible said,

what it taught.

Their pastor had to be wrong;

he had to be slipping down the path of heresy.

The play sounds powerful, riveting,

putting on stage under bright theatrical lights

how challenging interpreting the word of the Lord

can be.

God says to us through the prophet,

“For my thoughts are not your thoughts,

nor are your ways my ways, …
For as the heavens are higher than the earth,

so are my ways higher than your ways

and my thoughts than your thoughts.”

(Isaiah 55:8)

It is a reminder that we can never

know the mind of God.

        

What we can do, though, is read the Word,

listen to the Word,

and learn from the Word,

always remembering that

as we learn from the written Word,

as we interpret the written Word,

we are called to interpret through the Living Word,

the One who is grace and love.

                                                              

And the One who is grace and love,

the Living Word,

will teach us that we are to read and interpret

heart first.

AMEN

Under the Roof

The Rev. Dr. Skip Ferguson

Manassas Presbyterian Church

Manassas, Virginia

September 13, 2015

Under the Roof

Mathew 28:19-20

“Go therefore and make disciples of all nations,

baptizing them in the name of the Father

and of the Son

and of the Holy Spirit,

and teaching them to obey everything

that I have commanded you.”
************************************

The roof was enormous,

more than four acres in width and length

covering a huge, bustling factory.

Underneath the roof,

the roof that kept out the rain and the wind,

the snow and the heat of the sun,

stretched assembly lines

running in every direction,

lines that conveyed metal parts

as they were forged and machined,

metal shapes on their way to

becoming parts of engines

for Chevrolets, Buicks, Pontiacs, and Cadillacs.

This was a great General Motors foundry

just north of Buffalo back in the 1960s,

a teeming place that clanked and clattered,

trucks endlessly docking

under the roof’s edge around the back,

half of them there to deliver materials and supplies,

the other half to carry away finished products.

Every word spoken was shouted,

shouted to rise about the din, the roar, the clatter

that was everywhere under that roof.

Not far away was another factory,

another building,

this one with a much smaller roof,

a roof that kept out the rain and the wind,

the snow and the heat of the sun.

Trucks came and went there, too,

delivering materials and supplies

and carrying away finished products.

But there was no clanging,

no clattering under that roof.

There was almost a stillness,

a silence that approached the cloistered,

voices speaking softly,

as though sharing secrets,

with only the rumble of hand trolleys

being pushed through the space

providing a background hum against the stillness.

This was the Kittinger furniture factory,

a place in its day famous for crafting

exquisite chairs, desks,

tables, bureaus and other furniture

out of the finest, most exotic mahogany wood.

There were no machines here;

the work was done by hand:

boards cut, holes drilled,

surfaces planed

pieces joined,

all by hand.

At one station a man named Max worked quietly.

He’d come from Germany in the 1920s,

come to this country,

as almost every immigrant has,

in search of a life better than

what his own country offered him

in those turbulent years

following the first world war.

Max found work under the Kittinger roof.

Max found a place where he could ply his trade

as a craftsman, making furniture,

beautiful furniture,

shaping and forming wood,

bringing it to life;

a man so passionate about his craft

that on nights and weekends

he could be found in his shop at home,

crafting furniture for his own home,

and in later years

for the home of his daughter and her husband.

Factories: large buildings under a roof,

buildings where things are made,

all kinds of things,

from small technological marvels,

to enormous industrial machinery.

A church is hardly a factory,

but here, under this roof,

we too make things.

We make disciples.

We make disciples because

that is what our Lord Jesus Christ

has instructed us to do:

“Go therefore 

and make disciples of all nations,…”

Our Risen Lord’s words spoken to the 11;

our Living Lord’s words spoken to you and me.

“Go and make disciples.”

“Make disciples.”

Two thousand years ago,

before there were church buildings,

the apostles scattered throughout the land

and made disciples as they traveled,

sharing the word with all who would listen.

Today, we do most of our disciple-making

under roofs,

roofs of church buildings,

church buildings large and small,

old and new, wood and stone,

in urban and in rural areas.

We make disciples under this roof.

We make disciples not through

any mechanized process –

there’s no assembly line here –

no, we make disciples by

nurturing, teaching,

supporting,

comforting,

guiding,

being present with one another.

We make disciples not by converting –

that’s God’s work through the Holy Spirit.

We make disciples by first remembering

that the root of the word “disciple”

is “learner”.

So, we make disciples by encouraging learning;

by nurturing learning,

by helping learning:

learning about God,

learning about Christ,

learning about the Holy Spirit;

learning about the love that is ours,

the grace that is ours,

the forgiveness that is ours,

the peace that is ours,

the joy that is ours

from God through Jesus Christ.

We make disciples by living

our Lord’s two great commandments:

the first, of course, to love God,

and the second,

to love our neighbors as ourselves.

                                   

We make disciples by living

our Lord’s words to us

that it is by our love

that we are known as his followers.

We make disciples here in worship

as we gather together, all of us,

singing, praying,

listening, and learning,

renewing ourselves together at our Lord’s Table.

We make disciples in classrooms.

We make disciples in the many different groups

that do ministry, joyful ministry,

in the name of Christ.

We make disciples as we extend hospitality

to one another,

friend and stranger alike,

in every setting,

including at a picnic table

over hamburgers and three-bean salad.

If discipleship is grounded in love,

then surely we forge a foundation

for discipleship

in the children who come to our pre-school,

children who come from other traditions,

other faiths,

but children who come to learn

and laugh and play under our roof,

a place where love,

acceptance, tolerance, and respect

are found in every classroom.

If discipleship is grounded in love,

then surely we forge a foundation

for discipleship

among those who gather under our roof

to learn English as a second language,

men and women like Max,

who came here from far distant lands,

as our own ancestors once did,

men and women who gather under our roof

to learn in a place of warmth, welcome,

and acceptance.

There’s been a great deal of talk this past year

about our roof,

that physical barrier

that protects us from rain and the wind,

the snow and the sun’s heat.

Our roof caps this place

where disciple-making goes on 7 days a week,

from early morning to late at night;

and sometimes,

especially for our middle or high schoolers,

it may go on even all night!

To make a disciple is to help to awaken,

nurture and bring out

all those characteristics,

all those qualities that Jesus would have us live:

selflessness,

joy,

compassion,

kindness,

forgiveness,

mercy,

 and of course, love.

So, “Go: make disciples”.

Beginning with yourself,

remembering that to be a disciple

is to be a learner,

something we do all the days of our lives.

Go: make disciples:

here under this roof,

at home,

in the community,

in all places.

Go: for our Lord Jesus calls us.

AMEN

No Limits

The Rev. Dr. Skip Ferguson

Manassas Presbyterian Church

Manassas, Virginia

September 6, 2015

No Limits

Mark 7:24-30

From there he set out and went away to the region of Tyre.

He entered a house

and did not want anyone to know he was there.

Yet he could not escape notice,

but a woman whose little daughter had an unclean spirit

immediately heard about him,

and she came and bowed down at his feet.

Now the woman was a Gentile, of Syrophoenician origin.

She begged him to cast the demon out of her daughter. 

He said to her, "Let the children be fed first,

for it is not fair to take the children's food

and throw it to the dogs."

But she answered him,

"Sir, even the dogs under the table

eat the children's crumbs."

Then he said to her, "For saying that, you may go—

the demon has left your daughter." 

So she went home,

found the child lying on the bed,

and the demon gone.

************************************

Jesus was worn out,

exhausted,

desperately in need of a break, a respite;

The Son of God needed a Sabbath.

He and his disciples had been preaching,

teaching,

healing and ministering without stop.           

When his disciples returned from their travels

after Jesus set them off

for the first time on their own,

Jesus tried to take them away

so that they could rest, all of them.

Crossing the wide Sea of Galilee

didn’t deter the crowds, though;

they followed Jesus and his disciples

even to a deserted area,

followed to hear Jesus,

to learn from him,

to be healed by him.

Jesus knew he needed to

care for the crowd.

There would be no let-up,

no rest.

He knew he needed to feed them with God’s word,

and feed them with bread as well,

all five thousand of them.

The next day Jesus sent his disciples

on by themselves,

once again across the Sea of Galilee,

off to Bethsaida this time,

on the north shore of the Sea,

where he would join them.

But there too they were greeted by throngs

who had heard that he was coming.

The people “rushed about the whole region

and began to bring the sick on mats

to wherever they heard Jesus was.”

(Mark 6:55)

The Pharisees and scribes followed him as well,

followed him so they could keep on eye on him,

followed him so they could continue

to challenge him,

trying relentlessly to undermine him,

trying relentlessly to embarrass him

so people would turn from him,

stop listening to him.

“Look”, they said to one another,

“he and his disciples fail to follow

the law and tradition that requires them

to wash their hands before a meal,”

a tradition that had been an essential part

of obedience to the Pharisitical tradition

for centuries.

Jesus responded to the Pharisees,

even though he knew that nothing he said

would change their minds,

change their thinking.

Still, he quoted Scripture,

from the prophet Isaiah:

“The Lord said:
…these people draw near with their mouths

and honor me with their lips,

while their hearts are far from me,
and their worship of me

is a human commandment learned by rote…”

 (Isaiah 29:13)

The Pharisees knew the scripture well,

but were oblivious to the fact

that Jesus used it to speak of them.

Our Lord Jesus Christ

fully divine,

the Son of God,

yet also fully human,

needed a break,

needed rest from his work.

So he set off yet again,

this time by himself for the region of Tyre,

northwest of Capernaum and Bethsaida,

far from the crowds,

beyond the boundaries of Judea,

the land of the Jews.

He went into the Phoenician region peopled by

those referred to as Gentiles,

which was anyone and everyone

who was not Jewish

as our Lord was,

as the disciples were,

as the Pharisees, Sadducees and scribes were.

Perhaps there, in that region, he thought,

no one would know him,

no one would recognize him,

no one would be interested in him.

Perhaps there he could be anonymous,

blend in, not stand out,

and have time for prayer, rest, and renewal.

But it was not to be:

word got out that Jesus, the Messiah,

the Son of David,

the healer,

the miracle worker,

this Jesus was in the area.

So it was no surprise to anyone,

other than perhaps Jesus himself,

when a woman approached him,

desperately seeking healing for her daughter,

a cure, a miracle.

The woman was Syro-Phoenician,

not a follower of the Lord God,

not a descendant of any of the

patriarchs of the Twelve Tribes;

yet still she came to Jesus,

came in hope, came trusting,

came to him and dropped to her knees,

grabbing his tunic so he could not turn from her.

She raised her face

and looked deep into his eyes, pleading,

“heal my daughter; make her well.

Heal her my Lord,

heal her I beg of you.”

Jesus, exhausted, hungry,

worn out,    worn down

responded with words that to those gathered around

must have sounded harsh, almost a rebuke:

“Let the children be fed first,

for it is not fair to take the children's food

and throw it to the dogs.”

One didn’t need to be follower of Jesus,

a believer in the Lord God

to understand Jesus’ words:

a rebuke,    

with what sounded like an insult thrown in,

the woman referred to as a dog;

the woman who wanted only

her child’s suffering to cease,

who wanted only that her daughter be healed

and made well again.

It had not been that long before

when Jesus had instructed his disciples

as he prepared to send them out in pairs,

“Go nowhere among the Gentiles,

and enter no town of the Samaritans,

but go rather to the lost sheep

of the house of Israel.”

(Matthew 10:5-6)

It was clear to Jesus that these were God’s instructions;

it was clear from those words

that Jesus believed

that that was what his Father in Heaven wanted

of him and his disciples:

to go and minister to the

lost sheep of the house of Israel,

and only to the lost sheep of the house of Israel.

That was a big enough job as it was:

the children of Israel had strayed so far,

so widely,

for so long,

and there were so many of them.

But the woman who knelt at Jesus’ feet

was undeterred,

unshaken;

she let the words slide off her back,

as she replied to Jesus,

“Sir, even the dogs under the table

eat the children's crumbs.”

Her response stunned everyone,

including, apparently, Jesus,

the woman’s words spoken so firmly and resolutely,

yet with such humility,

such grace,

and such faith,

…oh, such faith.

Jesus was shaken out of his lethargy,

his fatigue, his weariness.

Drained as he was, he didn’t hesitate,

smiling as he said to the woman,

“For saying that, you may go—

the demon has left your daughter.”

Matthew records Jesus words

as decidedly more emphatic,

even enthusiastic:

“Woman, great is your faith!

Let it be done for you as you wish.”

(Matthew 15:27)

The daughter healed,

the Syro-Phoenician woman’s prayer answered,

God’s grace extended,

extended beyond the children of Israel,

beyond the known and the familiar,

beyond borders and language and culture.

God’s grace knows no limits.

God’s grace is boundless.

Our text suggests that even Jesus

needed to take a step back

and grasp that lesson,

a lesson he no doubt knew,

but perhaps had lost sight of

in his obedience to his Father’s will,

coupled with his exhaustion.

While God may well have instructed

Jesus and his disciples

to concentrate their efforts

on the children of Israel,

our Risen Lord has taught us

that God’s word was and is to be taken

to all the world,

shared with all the world,

…all the world.

We followers of Christ have put so many barriers,

so many limits on God’s grace, God’s love:

limits of theology,

limits of denominationalism,

limits of creeds, of culture       

of nation, of language.

We read scripture as though we are called

to narrow God’s word,

make it exclusive, keep it exclusive,

rather than casting wide the net

of grace and love.

They are our barriers, our limits,

not God’s.

As theologian Eugene Boring has written,

“God is not [bound] by any theology,

even one announced by God’s Son.

Theology, valuable and necessary as it is,

need not stand in the way of

divine compassion ….”

Nothing should stand in the way of God’s grace,

least of all, us, you and me,

as professed followers of Jesus Christ.

Who are we to try to put a limit

on God’s grace?

God’s grace is for all,

not just those we approve of,

those who think like us,

those who pass our theological tests.

And there is yet another example of grace here,

beyond God’s grace shared with the woman,

there is such grace in Jesus’ response to the woman.

Having got involved in a quick bout

of verbal jousting,

the woman got the better of Jesus

with her humble, faithful, resolute reply.

                          

It would have been easy for Jesus

to have dismissed her

or argued further with her,

but he conceded her point,

and healed her daughter.

Jesus was gracious as he extended God’s grace.

How often do we see graciousness in differences today?

        

This is a story about a miraculous healing.

This is a story about “overcoming prejudices

and boundaries that separate humanity.”

This is a story about graciousness.

                                   

But most important,

this is a story about grace,

God’s grace,

grace which has no limits.

AMEN