Who’s in and who’s out? Any introductory course in Sociology or Psychology will tell you about “In groups” that exist in every society. Those who fit in a variety of different categories – race, culture, gender, age, class or religion – are in and those who do not fit are out. You could read about it in a textbook, or you could walk down the corridors of any high school and see who is in and who is out. When we are part of an “in group” we usually don’t think about it much, it’s just the way things are. This is the way we speak, this is the way we do things, this is what we do on a particular day, at a particular time. It is when we are clearly not part of the in group that we notice this division. When we find ourselves somewhere where the dominant language is one we don’t understand, when we are visibly the only one around of our particular racial or ethnic group, age or gender, when we are in a religious service of another denomination or another faith group, when we are at a wedding or some other celebratory event where the food is not familiar or we don’t know about the traditional music or dance or there is a division of gender or age that is not usual for us. We know we are not part of the in group and feel uncomfortable and sometimes unwelcome.
It is part of life. It is not uncommon or wrong. We are not all the same. We’re different in many ways and a big part of our lives is made up of negotiating those differences. When I lived in Mozambique in the late 1980’s and early 1990’s, there were many things that were very different from my own southern Ontario culture and upbringing and I usually stuck out like a sore thumb in any gathering. I quickly learned that there was a very strong requirement to honour a visitor, particularly one who had some status. Because I was a minister I was always given a place of importance when I visited in a congregation or in someone’s home. I was a bit of an oddity because I was a younger than most ministers and also was not married and did not have children. Despite these anomalies, when it came time to eat, I was always seated at the table and would have a plate with a knife and fork. And when the food was brought to the table, I would usually receive something from the head of the animal that was being served as this was always reserved for the guest of honour. The much more rigid recognition of social hierarchy was something that was always difficult for me and always made me feel that I was not quite part of the group. Receiving some part of the head of an animal on my plate as a mark of that recognition and usually feeling a bit queasy also reminded me that I was in a different place and not quite part of the group. I managed though, and by the time I left Mozambique these ways of doing things, although still not quite me, were very much more familiar and part of my life. I was still a little out but I was making my way in.
Now, that’s a nice story. It demonstrates that it is possible to negotiate some of the divisions between being an insider and being an outsider. I spent quite a bit of time before going to Mozambique preparing myself for the differences and how to negotiate them. And I had been invited to work with the church in Mozambique and to teach in the seminary. I was an “outsider” but clearly a privileged outsider who was helped out along the way. We all know that there is another side to insiders and outsiders. It is not so nice, in fact it is many times very ugly and brutal and deadly. We only need to look at the events in our world this past week to be reminded of that. There are those who have no interest in negotiating the differences between us, no desire to build bridges between those who are in and those who are out. There are those who believe that the “in” is the only way and those who are “out” need to change and conform or, if that is not possible, to be marginalized or eliminated. And it is exacerbated when those who are “in” feel themselves to be threatened by those who are “out” who they see as challenging their place, their privilege and their way of life. More often than not, in these situations, the response of those who are “in” feeds, and is fed by, some form of fundamentalist religious or ideological belief that seeks to justify the condemnation and marginalization of those who are “out”. The extremist attacks of Islamist fundamentalists in Barcelona and Cambrils in Spain, demonstrate once again the callousness of those who believe that they are right and that the lives of those who do not hold the same belief as they do are disposable. Similarly, the march of white supremacists, anti-Semites and Nazis in the streets of Charlottesville, Virginia demonstrated once again the long held fear that those who understand themselves to be “in” because of race, religion and culture have of those who are understood to be out and the lengths to which they are willing to go to protect their privilege. There is no bridge, there is no table at which to share food, there is no conversation.
Pretty basic if frightening Sociology lived out in the news. And we are remembering and resonating with our history of hatred and dehumanization in a way we would not have imagined not so very long ago.
And then we read this story about Jesus. He has some troubles with the people in his “in group”. They don’t like what he is saying. It is cutting a little too close to the bone as he talks about the fact that the accepted rules about what to eat and what not to eat are not really all that important. What goes into your mouth and eventually ends up in the sewer is not nearly so important as what comes from the heart and comes out of your mouth. Things like evil intentions, murder, adultery, fornication, theft, false witness, slander. This is what messes up our lives together. We need to look beyond the rules, the things that we just do naturally and look at how we really live our lives with each other. You can wash your hands as many times as you like before the meal but if you sit around the table and plot the demise of your friend, it won’t really mean anything and won’t change the fact that you have not loved your neighbour. It is interesting that the disciples found it difficult to grasp something as simple as this. Sometimes it is hard to see beyond the things that make us part of the in-group.
Then Jesus leaves the in group. He’s had enough of his own people and their narrowness and petty rules and hypocrisy. He goes off to Tyre and Sidon, to the coast. What was then known as Phoenicia, now Lebanon, outside of Galilee, outside the purview of the Pharisees and the other Jewish leaders. He gets away and he just wants to be left alone. But as the story goes, out of nowhere, a woman appears. Like so many women in the gospels, we do not know her name but we do know that she was not part of Jesus’ “in group”. She was a Canaanite, a descendent of the original people of the land, for the people of Israel, the quintessential “other”. These are the people that Israel conquered when it came into the land but also the people that they had had to live with and were constantly at odds with. This woman had a problem. Her daughter was very ill and needed healing and she had no doubt heard that this travelling Rabi could help. To her, the difference did not matter now. Her only concern was that her daughter needed healing. She swallowed her pride. She played the role she was meant to play. She calls him, “Lord” and “Son of David” – exactly what she thinks he wants to hear. It’s what the street kids called me in Mozambique when they wanted me to give them something to look after my truck, “Hey Patrao, patrao”. In South Africa they would have said, “Boss”. . . . . . And Jesus immediately responded and healed her daughter. That’s what we think we should hear. Jesus is a good guy. He cares. He doesn’t. He ignores her. He says nothing. He treats her as invisible. And his disciples get in on the game. Get rid of her. She’s nothing. She’s a dirty Canaanite. You can treat street kids like that. Or nameless, begging women. Or foreigners. Or anyone who is less human than you are. And when you’ve got a few people shouting it together it just seems like the right thing to do. Jesus says to her, “I’m here for my own people, not for you.” Again, not what we would expect Jesus to say but, it seems, not such a shock for the woman. She’s heard this before. She knows these people. She keeps pleading for Jesus to heal her daughter. Then the raw, horrible words come out. “Food is for the children, not for a dog like you”. We cannot believe what we are hearing. This is Jesus. Through the centuries people have struggled with these words on the lips of Jesus. It seems he was no different from the people he was criticizing. The devastating and hateful words that come from the heart. The dialogue stops in this moment. What can possibly be said in the face of this? A great gulf of silence. Then, from the heart and from the lips of the unnamed, begging, foreign woman, “Even the dogs get some crumbs.” “Even the dogs get some crumbs”.
Jesus has been caught out. The spotlight is suddenly on him and on his belonging to the in-group. What they thought was theirs, what had been promised to them, was not for them alone. Healing and wholeness was not only for them. In fact, ironically, it could only be experienced most fully in risking to cross the barriers between us and them. All the rules and laws and customs and traditions and polite speech and holy words meant nothing and could be flushed out the toilet if a foreign woman’s child did not deserve the same gift of healing. The word of the other spoke powerfully in that moment. For the first readers of Matthew’s gospel, it was a word of grace. The good news was for all people. The people of Israel and those throughout the whole world. Not just for us and our in group, but for everyone. The church has had to hear this and learn this again and again and again. It seems it always becomes as raw and hateful as this. As raw as on the streets of Barcelona and the streets of Charlotteville. And then maybe our eyes are opened and we see in that unnamed, foreign woman begging for us to do something, a word of grace. God’s voice, coming from the outside in. The good news is not only for you. It’s for all of us.
And in that instant, we can be healed. Thanks be to God.
