Embracing Growth Through Compassion and Inclusivity

I speak to you in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

So, in my daily journey as I try to figure out what on Earth it means to be a follower of Jesus these days, I find that those little bracelets that were popular a while ago with the letters WWJD—What Would Jesus Do?—can be useful, but not always. Apparently, I'm not alone in this.

Last Sunday, a provocative and popular, and occasionally profane preacher named Nadia Bolz-Weber said this about WWJD: she said, "When I'm struggling in life, I don't know if 'What would Jesus do?' is the most helpful question. What would Jesus do? I don't know, something super cool like raise the dead or cast out demons or turn water into wine, none of which feel like a fair test of faith for someone who can't even remember to send thank you notes."

As I said, I share her ambivalence, maybe for different reasons—maybe just because I'm Episcopalian, and that's what we do. My ambivalence has to do with the fact that if I ask myself, "What would Jesus do?" and then I read the Gospels, I find that he doesn't always do what I'd predict he would do. He doesn't always say what I wish he would say. He doesn't always fit into my theological or credo constructs about what it means to be both human and divine.

The Gospels, more often than not, he talks about weeping and gnashing of teeth and folks finding themselves in eternal fire. He talks about hating mother and father and gives someone a hard time for going to bury a parent. He says his way is narrow and that few are going to find it. That proved true as he ends life alone, almost all of his followers heading for the hills as he is put to death.

And today we read the story of his encounter with a woman in need of help. The Gospel goes out of its way to make the point that she's an outsider. As in so many stories, she comes to Jesus hoping to save the life of her child—a request that no one could reasonably deny or ignore, a request that calls for compassion.

What would Jesus do? The disciples try to shut her up. Jesus seems to speak harshly to her, noting that his mission was limited to the house of Israel. He says, "It's not right to give food to the dogs." Ouch! That's when I might call in the spin doctor or the PR firm or the handler, or maybe call for a retraction.

And nonetheless, this woman persists. Perhaps as any desperate parent would, she comes right back and says, "Yeah, but even the dogs get some crumbs." Jesus is impressed. He commends her faith; he heals her daughter. My best reading of the text is that he changed his mind.

Now, if you were to consult commentaries on this passage, you might run across opening lines like, "This is a perplexing story," or "This is a troubling text," or "We're not sure Jesus really said any of this." These are not exactly the opening lines that a preacher wants to find.

All kinds of explanations have been offered for this story, and I bet if you go online this afternoon, you can listen to some sermons or find some social media arguments offering all kinds of interpretations of this story as it is read in churches around the world this morning.

Some people say that Jesus was really just teasing the woman, that he said this with a smile. Maybe it was a kind of a joke. Some say he was really testing her faith to see how much she actually believed he could help her. One take of the story was that Jesus wasn't referring to Gentiles as dogs, as fellow Israelites might. It's been proposed he was using a term of endearment, like puppies. All plausible, I guess. All may be right. I'm not convinced.

I was really interested in what Richard Rohr, in a new book on Jesus' teaching on the Sermon of the Mount, had to say about this story. He said Jesus initially seems to reflect the cultural male or religious prejudice toward her, but then he accepts her rejoinder. He admits he is wrong; he praises her and apologizes by healing her daughter—a perfect morality play of prejudice and patriarchy overcome.

Now, I don't know what you make of this story or its interpreters, and I bet you can tell that I don't really either. But as I read this story, where I come down draws me to refer to my favorite Peanuts cartoon, which is Snoopy on top of the doghouse, hard at work at his typewriter. Charlie Brown comes up and asks what he's doing. Snoopy says, "I'm writing a book on theology." Of course he is.

Charlie Brown says, "You need a really good title for such a book." Snoopy, with that smug smile captured in just a few lines, smiles and says, "I have the perfect title: Has it ever occurred to you that you might be wrong?"

I sense that that cartoon preaches to me, and Charles Schultz once said that cartooning is preaching because we need to approach a difficult story like this with the humility that we might always be sure—not be sure—what Jesus would do.

And again, where I come down on this story is this: this is a story that describes a time when Jesus grew, when Jesus changed his mind. Maybe even to Snoopy's point and to Richard Rohr's point, this is a moment when Jesus realized that he and maybe his whole culture had been wrong.

And that may not fit with your understanding of Jesus' nature—the mystery he's both human and divine. But let me note these insights from the Gospels. Luke tells us that Jesus grew in wisdom and stature, moving from childhood to adulthood. In other words, he changed. He learned stuff. And along the way, I suspect he came to see things in a new way.

At a couple points in the Gospels, Jesus admits he didn't know everything, that there were insights and mysteries above his pay grade. And I take all of that process to be a key part of his humanity. That's what it means to be human.

I think we learn in this story that Jesus changed, and he came to a new vision of his ministry as he stepped outside his comfort zone, moved beyond the borders of his own home, encountering the other. And the change came as he made a personal connection with this woman, as he came to see that her need—a need which he could address—mattered a whole lot more than his theology or his tradition or his tribal affiliation.

In this story, I think we're all reminded that part of being human is learning. I think that's why we're going to focus on discipleship this fall, because what is a disciple but a student or a learner? It is being willing and able to change, which is not always the strong suit for Episcopalians.

For a parish in transition with a new rector, there are going to be opportunities for change, and I'm guessing we may well hear those words that strike fear in the hearts of clergy: "We have never done it that way." Gracious God, may those words be stricken from the record.

In this story and in our lives, it's not change simply for change's sake. And I think this is the point of the Gospel: it has changed in the direction of Isaiah's inclusive vision, which we heard earlier—change in the direction of the expansion of God's mission so that the arc of history can bend in the direction of love and compassion.

Where do we see that kind of change? Just think of the arc of the life of Saint Paul, a Pharisee steeped in the tradition of the Scriptures he knew—a tradition which forbade any interaction with Gentiles. He got knocked off his horse on the road to Damascus and found a calling to include Gentiles in the Jesus movement. It's probably one of the most fundamental shifts that ever happened in church history.

The change came first in his personal encounter with Jesus, and then as he interacted with Gentiles and saw the gifts of the Spirit at work in them. Through the work of that Spirit, he came to see that in Christ there is neither Jew nor Gentile, male or female, slave or free—a radical vision the church still struggles to live into.

More recently, I'm remembering the early days of my ministry when women's ordination was still a relatively new thing in some parts of the church. It took a long while to embrace that notion. Some branches of the Jesus movement are still struggling to be embraced.

But I remember a conversation I had with an Episcopalian on the subject of women's ordination. He hadn't approved of the changes in the church, and he could spout all the reasons in Scripture and tradition why that was a bad idea. But then he said, "You know, at my church, while I was against women's ordination, I must admit we had this woman priest, and she is awesome. She came to pastor me and my family in a moment when we were in great need. She can preach up a storm."

And he changed—not because of an argument about theology or tradition, but through the personal connection that relationship helped him to see the wideness of God's love, the wideness of God's mercy.

So this morning, with this story, we praise God for the mystery of Jesus's nature—human and divine. The divinity is for sure a marvel beyond our understanding this side of the Pearly Gates. The humanity may be more accessible. As the TV commercials say, "Jesus gets us." The Gospels tell us he knew hunger, anger, fatigue, tests, forsakenness. And I believe he apparently experienced growth.

And because Jesus could change and grow, and maybe even demonstrate that he needed to broaden his vision and widen his heart, as his followers, you and I are called to change and grow and to broaden our vision and widen our hearts.

The change, the growth will probably come not as a result of arguing about theology or creed. It will come not in rigorous defense of tradition. It will come in relationships marked by compassion and love. It will come not with building walls, but with adding seats at the table.

And if this is indeed a story of Jesus changing his mind to move in the direction of love and compassion and inclusion, then as his followers, as his disciples, that is something you and I can do as well.

So let me ask: where do you see, where do you face growth opportunities for this week? How can the arc of your life bend, change, and grow towards justice and compassion and love? Gracious God, Lord knows our world needs for that to happen.

Yeah, we believe in one God, the Father, the Almighty, maker of heaven and earth, of all that is seen and unseen. We believe in one Lord, Jesus Christ, the only Son of God, eternally begotten of the Father, God from God, light from light, true God from true God, begotten, not made, of one being with the Father. Through him all things were made. For us and for our salvation, he came down from heaven. By the power of the Holy Spirit, he became incarnate from the Virgin Mary and was made man.

For our sake, he was crucified under Pontius Pilate; he suffered death and was buried. On the third day, he rose again in accordance with the Scriptures; he ascended into heaven and is seated at the right hand of the Father. He will come again in glory to judge the living and the dead, and his kingdom will have no end.

We believe in the Holy Spirit, the Lord, the giver of life, who proceeds from the Father and the Son. With the Father and the Son, he is worshiped and glorified; he has spoken through the prophets. We believe in one holy, catholic, and apostolic Church. We acknowledge one baptism for the forgiveness of sins. We look for the resurrection of the dead and the life of the world to come. Amen.

In peace, let us kneel and pray to the Lord.

Grant, Almighty God, that all who confess thy name may be united in thy truth, live together in thy love, and reveal thy glory in the world. Lord, in thy mercy.

Guide the people of this land and all the nations in the ways of justice and peace, that we may honor one another and serve the common good. Lord, in thy mercy.

Give us all a reverence for the earth as thine own creation, that we may use its resources rightly in the service of others and to thy honor and glory. Lord, in thy mercy.

Bless all whose lives are closely linked with ours, and grant that we may serve Christ in them and love one another as he loves us. Lord, in thy mercy.

Comfort and heal all those who suffer in body, mind, or spirit; give them courage and hope in their troubles and bring them the joy of thy salvation. We remember especially those on the St. James's prayer list and those we now name. Lord, in thy mercy.

We commend to thy mercy all thou died, remembering especially Cat Lapointe, that thy will for them may be fulfilled. Lord, in thy mercy.

Almighty God, to whom our needs are known before we ask, help us to ask only that which is in accordance with thy will, and those good things which we dare not, or in our blindness we cannot ask, grant us for the sake of thy Son, Jesus Christ, our Lord. Amen.

Let us humbly confess our sins unto Almighty God.

Most merciful God, we confess that we have sinned against us. Almighty God, our heavenly Father, who of his great mercy hath promised forgiveness of sins to all those who with hearty repentance and true faith turn unto him, have mercy upon you; pardon and deliver you from all your sins; confirm and strengthen you in all goodness and bring you to everlasting life through Jesus Christ, our Lord. Amen.

The peace of the Lord be always with you. Let us offer each other a sign of Christ's peace.

Walk in love, as Christ loved us and gave himself for us, an offering and sacrifice to God.