Surprising Sources of Grace

 

Isaiah 56:1,6-8
Psalm 67
Romans 11:1-2a, 29-32
Matthew 15: (10-20), 21-28

©The Rev. Seth Olson 2023

Holy God, let my words be your words and when my words are not your words, let your people be wise enough to know the same. Amen.

Growing up as an Episcopalian in the predominately Baptist South, I often heard the word grace; however, if you had asked me to define it when I was teenager, I would have struggled. The Catechism from The Book of Common Prayer asks this question: What is grace? And the Outline of Our Faith answers the inquiry: “Grace is God’s favor towards us, unearned and undeserved; by grace God forgives our sins, enlightens our minds, stirs our hearts, and strengthens our wills” (858).  If this is indeed an accurate depiction of this mysterious phenomena—and I believe it is—if grace is indeed an undeserved, unearned gift that forgives, enlightens, stirs, and strengthens, then in today’s Gospel lesson, strangely, Jesus appears to be on the receiving end of grace.

That’s right, you heard me correctly, Jesus, in a rare outlying passage, models for us not how to dish out God’s grace, but how to accept it. Thanks be to God for this example, for here Jesus invites us to humbly evolve, as we move beyond the way things have been. If this sounds a bit odd or even scary, you aren’t alone. We talk often about God’s transforming love here at All Saints, but undergoing transformation isn’t always pleasant. Still, as we dig into the details of this passage, we will discover an abundant feast of faith flowing from this surprising source of grace, and we will find why this passage matters to us.

There’s two parts of today’s story: The first is a very typical encounter between Jesus and his followers with Israel being the setting. The second is an other-worldly interaction in which Jesus and his disciples encounter a Canaanite woman in a strange land. To understand both parts, we must go to the start of Matthew Chapter 10.

In those first ten verses, the scribes and Pharisees accosted Jesus. In fact, they had come all the way from Jerusalem to hound him. These leaders walked about 33 hours to confront Jesus because his followers were not washing their hands before they ate. After the last several years of pandemic time, I get it. Stopping the spread of disease is important; however, the Pharisees were missing the forest for the trees.

These religious leaders were focused on the practice of ceremonial handwashing while avoiding more important religious mandates—in particular, Jesus called out the Pharisees for greedily asking for money from grown children that would have otherwise gone to support their elderly parents. Jesus saw through the hypocrisy of the Pharisees, as they wanted to appear religious and spiritual, but they were not living by the guidelines they offered to others.

After this interaction with the visiting Pharisees, we get to today’s passage and Jesus’ interaction with the crowd, then his disciples. To the large gathering, Jesus taught that it’s not forgetting to wash one’s hands that spiritually defiles. Rather, it’s what comes out of one’s heart that speaks to one’s spiritual health. The disciples were worried about the effect of Jesus’ teaching for they asked, “Do you know that the Pharisees took offense when they heard what you said?” Jesus brushed off the warning though, advising that the Pharisees were like blind guides leading blind followers, and all were heading for a fall. Undeterred, Peter was curious about the actual teaching that Jesus had offered to the gathered crowds.

Jesus, seemingly frustrated at a leading disciple’s ignorance, wondered why Peter was without understanding. The teacher then explained that it’s not about what we put into our bodies, nor about how ritually clean our hands are, rather it is about the state of our hearts. For out of our hearts come evil intentions—murder, adultery, sexual immorality, theft, false witness, and slander. This is what distorts our connection to God and neighbor—not whether we follow a traditional hand washing practice.

Now, before you think that Jesus was anti-hygiene, recall that he was teaching about matters of the heart, relationship, and character, rather than our modern concepts of cleanliness. This entire interaction though was taking place within a Jewish setting. Jesus was challenging both the religious leaders from Jerusalem and his own followers to see that traditions that merely serve as superficial markers of whether one is honorable or shameful are dead in the eyes of God. What truly honors God is not a showy practice that others see. No, it is what we do when no one is looking. It is how we help the least, the lost, or the loveless that matters in the eyes of God.

If we were to wonder where the grace is coming from in this first part of today’s Gospel lesson, we would rightfully point to it coming from this powerful teaching of Jesus. Grace emerges from within us when we are in right relationship with God, when our hearts are filled with loving intentions—healing, fidelity, healthy relationships, sharing, honor, and truthfulness.

Something surprising happens though when we exit this setting for Tyre and Sidon. Here we encounter a different sort of Jesus. One who misses the grace in the other, forgetting the outcasts, and ignoring that God is merciful to all. In the second part of this passage, Jesus and his disciples “other-ed” someone in real need.

A Canaanite woman hunted Jesus and his disciples from the minute they entered this different land. She wanted them to heal her daughter. Far be this from some outlandish request, Jesus had been healing people for his entire public ministry. Word of his power had reached beyond the Jewish world and even to their ancient enemies, the Canaanites. Sometimes, I think of Jesus as being without culture—he’s universal and beyond the struggles we face in our society, I mistakenly muse. However, Jesus was clearly emersed within Hebrew culture.

Jesus, fully divine and fully human, at first yielded to his own human tradition, giving the silent treatment to this woman in need. The disciples though were less adept at avoiding those who were anxious or annoying them. After a time of the woman shouting at them, they pleaded with Jesus to send her away. Now, normally boundaries are a useful thing, but Jesus seems to hide behind them here. “I was sent only to the lost sheep of Israel,” he protested. The woman though was not buying it. She knelt before Jesus calling him Lord and begging for help.

Here we encounter some of the hardest words in all the red letters of the Bible. Jesus said, “It is not fair to take the children’s food and throw it to the dogs.” Jesus called this woman and her people dogs—not in a playful way. No, this was meant as an insult—intended to send this woman away.

The grace of God though has a way of breaking through even here, but not from where we might expect. The Canaanite woman tolerated the insult. She imagined a response that over-accepted the derogatory moniker. I imagine her with a wry smile and glint in her eyes, uttering, “Yes, Lord, yet even the dogs eat the crumbs that fall from their masters’ table.” She showered grace around her, as she picked up the insult thrown at her wearing it instead as a badge of honor.

Jesus and his disciples did not earn or deserve this woman’s respect, and yet she gave it to them. By grace this woman forgave these men’s arrogance, she enlightened them deconstructing their preconceived notions of this outsider, she stirred Jesus’ heart such that he was moved to heal her daughter, and she strengthened Jesus’ will such that the mission of Salvation expanded. By the end of Matthew’s Gospel account, Jesus gave the great commission inviting his disciples to baptize all nations, following him, not just in Israel, but to the ends of the earth.

Can you see how provocative and powerful this woman’s witness was? She was a stranger to Jesus’ culture and mission, and yet she was the one dolling out God’s grace. Isaiah’s words are fitting here: Thus says the Lord God, who gathers the outcasts of Israel, I will gather others to them besides those already gathered.

Now, you may still be wondering why this woman’s grace-filled example is important to us? If so, let me propose three reasons. First, she changed the course of Jesus’ ministry! Without her, we Gentiles might not be hearing the good news of Christ Jesus. She helped shift Jesus’ and his disciples’ understanding of who was to receive salvation and good news.

Next, she helps us look in new places for God’s blessings. We might be certain that we know from where God is going to offer us favor, unearned and undeserved. We might think we know how God is going to forgive, enlighten, stir, and strengthen us. And yet, grace has this way of always surprising us. Though it’s not mentioned in the Catechism’s definition, grace has this unexpected nature to it.

Finally, she offers to us an odd invitation. Often in our overly full lives we rightfully exert healthy boundaries, which is good! And yet, God has a way of working through that person whom we want to cut out of our lives. That annoying person we want to ignore because we are too busy, too important, or too self-centered, that person is a vessel of God’s grace too—just like you!

God’s amazing grace hits us in surprising ways when we are most needing it and least expecting it, so keep your eyes open and be on the lookout for this unearned and undeserved gift. See grace inside yourself—focusing not just on clean hands, but also on what flows from your heart. See grace outside yourself—looking beyond the superficial layers of this life to observe God’s faithfulness in unlikely places. May you be open to receive God’s surprising gift of grace, for God yearns to forgive, enlighten, stir, and strengthen you. Amen.

Who is this?

 

On this Palm Sunday and throughout this week may we wonder who Jesus is as we wander to the Cross.

The Liturgy of the Palms

 Matthew 21:1-11

The Liturgy of the Word

Isaiah 50:4-9a

Psalm 31:9-16

Philippians 2:5-11

Matthew 26:14- 27:66

Holy God, let my words be your words and when my words are not your words, let your people be wise enough to know the same. Amen.

“When [Jesus] entered Jerusalem, the whole city was in turmoil, asking, ‘Who is this?’”

On a day long ago, the entire Holy City asked, “Who is this?” As Jerusalem experienced the unsettled turbulence, the fever pitch, the near riots, they collectively yearned to know who this Jesus was. By my count, today’s service features about 65 different answers for this question through various descriptors of Jesus—from grand titles like “Son of Man” or “King of Israel” to expressive phrases like “self-emptying one” or “oh, most afflicted.” Back on the first Palm Sunday, the crowds ran ahead of Jesus cutting down branches and throwing down garments, as they had their own answer for Jerusalem’s question, shouting, “Hosanna to the Son of David! Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord!” and “This is the prophet Jesus from Nazareth in Galilee.” (italics added for emphasis)

Surely the disciples were among the crowds. They had professed already who this was. “The Messiah, the Son of the Living God,” attested their spokesperson Peter. Later in this week, though these same followers would answer the question about Jesus’ identity differently.

Judas full of greed and disappointment betrayed his teacher with a kiss, only to later experience the kiss of death as the aftermath of his guilt and shame. Peter after Jesus foretold of the disciples’ threefold denial replied, “Even though I must die with you, I will not deny you.” The other disciples chimed in likewise, but a cockcrow would be the alarm that awakened them from their denial! In the garden Peter, James, and John (the ultra-disciples) could not keep watch with Jesus falling asleep instead. When those with swords and clubs arrived to arrest Jesus, one disciple seethed with rage such that he turned to aggression with a blade.

The disciples’ replies to the question, “Who is this?” were not to hold up Jesus as “the Messiah, the Son of the Living God,” nor as a Prophet, nor even as their rabbi. Instead, through betrayal, denial, unconsciousness, and violence they let their words and actions speak disbelief, fear, and faithlessness.

The danger with pointing out the disciples’ sin-soaked responses comes when I try to wash my own hands of Jesus’ death, like Pilate did. I claim that it was the disciples’ missteps and inaction, not mine. I likewise blame it upon religion and politics, the Jewish or the Roman people, not me. I so easily slide into the crowd to run from my own part in the story—how I might answer the question. And yet, even there hiding in the masses, I discover that out of one side of my mouth I call Jesus: Savior, King, Prince of Life, beloved, friend; then out of the other: slave, imposter, accused. Worst of all is the cry ringing out of my mouth for Jesus to be crucified. “Let him be crucified!”

Over and over again, I crucify Christ, we crucify Christ—not only in ancient Jerusalem, but throughout the ages in the deaths of martyrs and innocents, and in our day, at Columbine or Covenant, at Emmanuel AME Church in Charleston or at St. Stephen’s Episcopal Church in Vestavia Hills. It would be easier for us, for me to just look away!

This is the danger: to sit back comfortably and wait for a week to pass, so that I may drop in wearing my Easter best to sing my favorite hymns and never acknowledge my part in the story, my part in Jesus’ betrayal, Passion, and death—my part in the crucifixion of Christ.

What if you and I did not know how this story will end? What if we were to watch with the crowds, the disciples, and Pilate? Better still, what if we were to walk with the women—Mary Magdalene, the other Mary, and the mother of the sons of Zebedee—to see how this story unfolds? What if we wondered anew, “Who is this?”

This week suspend what you think you know. Look past the answers that the disciples, religion, politics, or others tell you about who Jesus is. Instead, walk the way of Holy Week, and ponder, “Who is this?”

 

Mirrors of Truth

 

Are you able to look into truthful mirrors?

Exodus 17:1-7

Romans 5:1-11 

John 4:5-42 

Psalm 95

 The Rev. Seth Olson © 2023

Holy God, source of living water, let my words be your words and when my words are not your words, let your people be wise enough to know the same.

“Magic mirror on the wall, who is the fairest one of all?” in Disney’s telling of the fairy tale Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs, the Evil Queen ponders this very question. Unfortunately for the queen, the mirror’s truthful response—that Snow White stands as the fairest in the land—precipitates a dastardly plot to unfold. In this infamous encounter, the Wicked Queen happens upon the harsh reality of honest feedback.

Walter Wangerin, the author elaborated upon this very thing, “In mirrors I see myself. But in mirrors made of glass and silver I never see the whole of myself. I see the me I want to see, and I ignore the rest. [However] mirrors that hide nothing hurt me. They reveal an ugliness I’d rather deny.” Then, Wangerin provides a warning label for those who cannot handle the truth, “Avoid these mirrors of veracity!”[1] Perhaps you have no trouble seeing the mirrors that hold nothing back.

I often find these reflections to be double-edged—both brutal and beneficial. A friend who cuts through the small talk to say how I have hurt him. A spouse who does not obscure how I have let her down. A child who innocently happens upon the very weakness I have tried to hide from the world. A neighbor who sees me in a moment of weakness. A stranger who shows me the painful truth when I was discounting his very humanity. To any of these reflectors of reality, I might want to run away, or even go the way of the Evil Queen—shattering the mirror altogether—or I may simply plead, “Can’t I just ignore the honest mirrors that cause me to see my flawed, authentic self?” Not if I am going to follow in the way that Jesus leads.

Last week and this week in our Gospel lessons, Jesus held up mirrors to would-be-disciples, revealing the life-altering challenges that accompany following in the Way of Christ. Seven days ago, our story revealed the night-time wanderings of Nicodemus. The trained religious leader, Nicodemus, sought answers from the upstart teacher, Jesus. As the Pharisee pressed for solutions to the dilemmas of life, he could only hear literal responses. In the dimly lit encounter, the teacher of Israel struggled to see the light Jesus reflected. At least in that moment all Nicodemus could say was, “How can these things be?” He had a hard time looking in the mirror.

Today, we heard about a woman who approached Jesus in broad daylight. She sought sustenance from an old well. At first, looking at her reflection in the stagnant water she too could only behold Jesus’ literal words. He had no bucket; how could he promise living waters? However, her thirst persisted, as she kept wondering what Jesus was reflecting.

In many ways, she was the opposite of Jesus’ last conversational partner. Nicodemus had a name—she was unnamed by John. Nicodemus was a leader and a teacher of the Israelites—she was an outsider of Jesus’ Faith Tradition being a despised Samaritan. Nicodemus was male, very helpful in a patriarchal society—she was not. Nicodemus held a high standing as a religious leader—she had no power, privilege, or education of which we know. Additionally, she had little status as a multiple-times-divorced woman, and this deserves even more consideration.

What’s happening with all these marriages? Scholars argue over the importance of the multiple nuptials. Was she literally married five times? Were the marriages a symbol of the regimes of the Samaritans—the five political powers who ruled this tribe? Was this an allusion to the five distinct groups who made up the Samaritan people? It’s unclear, but before you start retrospectively shaming this divorcee though, know that Jesus nor John did any such thing.

Still, we might think that she felt some shame from her five divorces. She did come to the well in the middle of the day instead of during the rush of early morning or late afternoon, which may have been a way to avoid others. However, she also could have been at the well at noon to fulfill an ancient pattern about betrothal and marriage. In the Book of Genesis, Jacob met his wife Rachel, where? At a well! When? At noon! Likewise, Abraham’s servant found Isaac’s wife Rebekah, where? At a well! When? At noon! So, what does this mean? Is this woman a soon-to-be blushing bride? Not exactly!

This moment did foreshadow a marriage though, and John’s original audience would have picked up on it. This marriage though was a cosmic union between God and all people (including the Samaritans) through the messianic power of Christ in the person of Jesus of Nazareth. The woman at the well was a forerunner, an apostle, and a first fruit of this universal union being revealed. If she felt any shame in coming to the well at noon, she left it there with her water jug. As Jesus reflected the truth that he was the Messiah, she did not hide away. She did not turn back, nor did it take days or weeks or months for the truth to dawn upon her like it did for Nicodemus. Instead, she saw the truth in Jesus, the ultimate mirror. Even if her every scar was revealed in the reflection, so too was the pathway to healing.

Bare and exposed she was not embarrassed, instead she was enlivened. She dug deeper into the conversation, and the living water began to gush and spring and flow from everywhere. No longer did she feel like she was someone defined by her past. Instead, she was being born of the spirit and of the truth, as she was baptized by the source of living water. Leaving everything behind, she ran to her people and spoke words that Jesus used when calling his first disciples, “Come and see! Come and see a man who told me everything I have ever done! He cannot be the Messiah, can he?”

Jesus had reflected her inmost truth back to her. Unashamed she had a new vision of who she was. It was clear enough to her people too as their interest was piqued by her invitation—maybe they wanted to know their true selves too! Even if the Samaritans and Israelites were at odds, the Samaritan people did hope for the Taheb, a messiah who would come and reveal the truth (the description of the Taheb came from a blog post by Jennifer Garcia Bashaw on the Working Preacher website). After a few days with Jesus, these Samaritans believed Jesus was the Taheb. Jesus had bluntly said to the woman that, “I am he,” meaning I am the Messiah. She, and later her people, understood this such that they spoke a truth not heard elsewhere in John’s Gospel account, “This is truly the Savior of the world.”

In last week’s story, Nicodemus had heard about the Savior of the world—that God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but have everlasting life. And yet it wasn’t Nicodemus, but this unnamed evangelist who shared Good News about the Savior, so that part of the world would know this love. There at the well, this unnamed woman had realized what we prayed in today’s collect, “We have no power in ourselves to help ourselves.” She had no power to help herself, but acknowledging this truth changed her life. And, when we honestly behold this realization, everything changes for us too.

We like to tell ourselves things like: if I just get this project accomplished, then I will be okay. If I get the promotion, then everything will be alright. If I find the perfect partner, it’ll all be fine. If I get everything right, then people will love me. If I _____, then I will be fulfilled. We have no power in ourselves to help ourselves—three years after the start of the COVID-19 Pandemic I feel more strongly about that than ever—our collect is correct.

We can’t earn God’s grace. This is clearly reflected in how Jesus responded to the woman at the well. God loves us first. God doesn’t wait for us to get it right. Christ Jesus shines as the ultimate mirror—truly showing us who God made us to be. When he encountered the Samaritan woman, she could see who she truly was—not a woman with baggage, not a series of scandals, not just a descendent of Jacob, but a beloved child of the Divine filled with God’s spirit and truth and called to pique her people’s curiosity with God’s Good News. Christ makes our real selves known too!

Although we might have trouble looking into truthful mirrors, Christ reflects our deepest truth back to us in strangers, friends, family, beloveds, and in creation itself. In these reflections, we can see who we are. If we are brave enough to look, we will see our flawed, authentic selves. As difficult as it is to view these honest mirrors, do not look away. Seeing who we are can be difficult and painful, still this is how we live in Spirit and Truth drinking the living water.

Christ Jesus shows us who we are. It is not easy to see our true selves, for we crave to see only our good parts, as we think we have power to save ourselves. However, as he invited the Samaritan woman not just to see her past reflected in the living water, but also to drink anew and never thirst again, so he calls us to gulp deeply of new life. He knows our whole selves, even our flaws and foibles. And, before we recognize our faults, God knows them, loving us still and calling us into new life.

Truthful mirror at the well who is it who is beloved still? It’s you. You are God’s beloved one, and I pray we may reflect that truth to one another—not matter where you’re from, what you’ve done or not done, or who you are—you are God’s beloved. Reflect on that!

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[1] Wangerin, Walter. "In Mirrors." In Bread and Wine: Readings for Lent and Easter, 11. Maryknoll, NY: Plough Publishing, 2008.