At the Boundary
a sermon based on Matthew 15:10-28
by Rev. Rick Thompson

An unfamiliar man walked into a crowded church. It was a cold winter day, so the man was wearing a hat. But, unlike other men, this man kept his hat on. He went to his pew, sat down, and kept his hat on!

The ushers politely asked him several times to take off his hat. The man refused.

Others sitting near him also politely asked him to take his hat off. "You're blocking our view," they explained. But each time, the man refused.

The pastor was perturbed, too, and waited to speak to the man after worship. He told the man that he was very welcome to worship as a guest. He invited the man to join the church. But he explained that the congregation expected men to take their hats off during worship. "I hope you will conform to that practice in the future," the pastor requested.

"Thank you," the man replied. "And thank you for taking time to talk to me. It is good of you to invite me to join your congregation. However, I joined this congregation three years ago, and I've been coming here regularly ever since. But today is the first time anyone has ever talked to me.

"So, after being unknown for three years, by keeping my hat on I have gotten to talk to the ushers. I have gotten to talk to some of my neighbors in the pew. And, now, I have even gotten to have a conversation with you, who always appeared too busy to talk to me before."

That story makes a painful point, doesn't it! It reminds the church how important it is to extend hospitality. And it reminds us how difficult it sometimes is to be a welcoming community, especially to those who are different from us, whom we consider "outsiders".

The church lives at that boundary—the boundary between those who are like us, and those who are unlike us: the boundary between life on the inside and encounter with those on the outside. And it can be an uncomfortable place to live. We'd rather not be pushed and stretched. We'd rather not have to deal with those unlike us. We'd prefer not to be bother by those who want to worship in a contemporary style, or those who speak a language other than English. We wish we didn't have to wrestle with hard questions about the place of gay and lesbian people in the church.

We'd like to keep the boundaries of the church cozy and neat and clean. We'd like to fill it with people who look like us, think like us, talk like us, and share our lifestyles.

But then we wouldn't be the church, would we. Because the church has always found itself called to live at the boundary, where it's not so clear who is acceptable to God and who is not.

That's where Jesus found himself one day.

Jesus was weary. He had been involved in a flurry of activity in recent days. He just wanted to rest, and people kept coming to him. A crowd came, seeking healing, when he was alone in the wilderness. Jesus healed them, and he fed them miraculously. His disciples were threatened in a late night storm at sea, and he had to come to their rescue. Each time, he had only wanted to be alone to pray. Jesus was weary.

And then, the Pharisees get in the act. When they hear a rumor that Jesus and his disciples didn't follow their interpretation of God's law—about washing their hands before eating bread—they started a debate with Jesus. He made his point that God is more concerned about compassion than about being ritually clean. He made his point, but he made some enemies, too.

And Jesus was weary. So, seeking renewal, Jesus goes off into a remote area, to be alone, to pray and reflect on his mission.

Jesus goes toward the boundary. He heads off to the edge of Palestine, to the area of Tyre and Sidon, in the north, along the Mediterranean Sea. And there, at the boundary, an outsider—a Canaanite woman—confronts him. She's got a problem: she has a daughter possessed by a demon, and she's heard about the compassion and healing power of Jesus, and she shouts at him, pleading for help, "Lord, Son of David, have mercy on me!"

Now, in Jesus' eyes, this woman has another problem. He knows about the wideness of God's mercy. He knows that the compassion of God has no boundaries. He has embodied that compassion already, when he healed a Roman soldier's servant. Jesus knows about the compassion of God and the wideness of God's mercy, but he also knows his own mission. And that mission is to gather "the lost sheep of the house of Israel".

The woman doesn't fit the bill. She's a Canaanite—one of the ancient enemies of Israel. And she's a woman. And she's got a daughter with a frightening illness. Time is short, his work is urgent, and Jesus just doesn't have time for this outsider. He brushes her off, but she persists. And, finally, because of her great faith, Jesus grants her request. At the boundary, Jesus gives a hint that the mission to the lost ones of Israel will be expanded to the ends of the earth.

Jesus is moved by the woman's great faith.

Last week, we read a story about the disciples, threatened at sea, storm-tossed in their little boat. Jesus came walking on water to rescue them. Peter tried walking on the water, too, started to sink, and had to be rescued by Jesus. Do you remember what Jesus accused Peter of after he had rescued him? "Little faith." Peter had "little faith".

Now that's interesting, isn't it! One of Jesus' closest followers—and insider—often waffled and wavered in his faith. And, in contrast, at the boundary, Jesus encounters a Gentile woman—an outsider—with great faith.

What makes her faith great?

The woman is persistent. When she knows who she's dealing with, and knows the power and compassion of Jesus, she doesn't let up until she receives mercy for her daughter. She is willing to risk humiliation because she knows Jesus can help her.

And, though she is an outsider, the woman is willing to acknowledge the power of Jesus. "Lord," she calls him, and "Son of David". She knows he is powerful in Israel, and she knows his power over all people and all things. She knows that Jesus can do what she asks, even though she's on the outside looking in.

I remember when two Lutheran congregations—ours and a neighboring one—back in Iowa started a ministry together with those on the outside looking in. We were in an older neighborhood, where Lutherans no longer lived. The people around our two churches were poor. Many were single parents, struggling to provide for their children. Many of them were unchurched or dechurched. The needs were great, and we though we might be able to make a difference.

With much financial help from the denomination, we hired an outreach coordinator. We sent her into the neighborhood to meet people, to listen to their stories, to tell them God's story, and to try to get them connected with the church. One of the people she met was a woman I'll call "Marie".

Marie was desperate. She had three children, and was struggling in her second marriage. Marie had a history of heavy drinking and depression. The depression left her with little physical or emotional energy to deal with her children and their needs, her husband's irresponsible behavior, and her deep financial problems.

Marie also had a history with the church; she was one of those dechurched people. She had experienced some rejection from the church, but she still wanted to believe. So the outreach coordinator prayed with Marie, studied the Bible with her, encouraged her to pray when she was alone, and gave Marie a copy of Martin Luther's Small Catechism.

After they had visited a number of times, Marie requested a visit from a pastor. She wanted Holy Communion. I hear her story, prayed with her, talked about the church and about God, and celebrated Holy Communion. And Marie told me where she found comfort when she was deeply troubled and couldn't sleep at night. Believe it or not, she had actually come to deeply cherish her Small Catechism. She especially liked Luther's teaching about the Lord's Prayer. When Marie was alone and afraid at night, she turned to that discussion, and was deeply comforted by Luther's proclamation that God is our loving, heavenly Father who will not fail to hear us and give us what we need.

Like Jesus when he encountered the Canaanite woman, I discovered a sincere and great faith in a place where I didn't expect to find it. I encountered faith in an "outsider"—a person I met at the boundary.

Like Jesus in our story, that's where the church of today is called to be—at the boundary. Meeting people who seem unlikely candidates to live a life of faith and discipleship. Those folks are there, at the boundary! Like Marie, like the Canaanite woman, they are there!

Our mission is to the lost sheep—the ones who have turned away from the church—and also, at the command of the risen Lord, to all people of all nations. Our mission is to be there, at the boundary, where people are different in some ways—but just like us in their need to know Jesus!

It's a difficult place to be—at the boundary.

But it's a good place to be, too.

Why? Because there are some people of great faith there.

And—oh, yes!—Jesus is there, too!