August 20, 2023

Pentecost 12
Lectionary 20

Epiphany, Winnipeg

Genesis 45:1-15
Matthew 15:21-28

Have any of you been to Maui? To Lahaina? Were you there when they burned? Did you see it on a screen? Have you been to Enterprise or Yellowknife? Do you know someone who’s had to leave this week?

Were you there when Joseph wept over his little brother Benjamin, who he hasn’t seen since he was just a little guy? No? There’s a story in the news, and a story from the Bible, and they seem so far apart, don’t they?

And now there’s Kelowna news, and this morning it’s Sorrento and Chase and it’s really getting impossible to keep up. How many of you have been to a place that’s now on fire? How many of you know someone who had to leave?

And how many of you were there when Jesus changed his mind and decided to heal the daughter of a Canaanite woman? When that shocking but beautiful story unfolded, about an Israelite finally deciding to heal a Canaanite, an ancient sworn enemy?

The stories that happen before our eyes and these stories we hear on a Sunday morning or in a quiet moment with a Bible in our laps: They seem so far from each other. But all of these stories are ours in some way: That’s why you might have shed a tear when you heard someone on TV weep their own tears as they talked about losing their home. That’s why you might have cried, like me, if you saw that video of South African firefighters singing and dancing for a small group of indigenous drummers just outside of Yellowknife. Or maybe you wept just a little bit the first time you heard this story of Joseph and his brothers and their great reconciliation. These are our stories too.

So lets’ step back and hear some of our older stories for a minute. Like Joseph and his brothers.

Joseph was the second youngest among twelve brothers and a sister. He was the one who got special gifts from his dad, like that coat of many colours or that coat with sleeves; that fancy coat. He’s the one who always seemed to get all the love. You know how it is with the younger ones. And his older brothers hated him for it.

When Joseph was about seventeen his ten older brothers were out working in the field one day and their dad Jacob sent Joseph to go and see how they were doing. When they saw him coming they remembered how jealous they were and they came up with a plan to kill their spoilt little brother, and then and go home and tell dad that wild animals had done away with his favourite son. The oldest brother Rueben thought this was a bad idea, so instead they sold him to slave traders who eventually sold him as a slave far far away in Egypt. You know how brothers can be. Then they went and told their dad that a wild animal had taken his favourite son. And their father Jacob’s heart was broken.

Now this story of Joseph is just one more broken story of that family, and Joseph’s family history, for generations, has a lot of broken stories. Today we would talk about dysfunction and trauma. And Joseph carries that whole history; generations of it…it’s just kind of in his bones, because these stories have a way of sticking around in the lives of the people who live them…way back then…yesterday…and today.

So Joseph’s brothers have sold him into slavery, but two decades later things have gone very very well for Joseph. He’s not a slave any more, but he’s become the king of Egypt’s right hand man, the Pharoah’s closest aide; Joseph more or less runs the country. One day ten brothers show up in Joseph’s office, and they tell him that they come from a far away land, and that there is no food there, and they plead to buy food from Egypt so that they and their families don’t starve.

And Joseph recognizes them - These are his brothers who sold him as a slave. Can you imagine just for a minute what this is like for Joseph? How much anger he will feel and for good reason, and how much hurt will rise up again from the memory of what they did to him when he was seventeen years old? So he never lets on that he knows who they are, and instead he just toys with them; he throws them in prison, he lets them out and frames them for theft, he sends them home and back again, and again, long and hot and miserable journeys over mountains and deserts. Joseph gets a long long taste of revenge. He holds up all his power over them to do what he wants with their lives. He plants all kinds of fear in them.

And a few times along the way, he sneaks away to be alone and he weeps.

What do you do when someone you loved tried to kill you and then sold you like a piece of livestock, and they show up on your doorstep years later?

But today, the story changes. Joseph finally tells them who he is, and then he bursts into tears. He finally gives himself up to years of grief and then to this newfound joy, and he weeps with relief because now all the games are done and the hurting has ended and his old home has come back to him. Then it’s not long until his dad joins them, along with all of Joseph’s nieces and nephews and in-laws and great-nieces and great-great nephews and….All these people are finally together again, because love and mercy prevailed, and somebody finally said, “Enough. There’s got to be another way. The hate and the fear will be over.” And they are at home together – even in a strange place, they are at home together.

There’s no longer that bratty little brother and the shame we his brothers carried for what we did to him. There’s no longer a parent’s broken heart. And there’s no longer me – Joseph - and those others, those brothers who did that to me. For this moment there’s healing and peace. And a whole bucketload of joy.

Then there’s this story – it’s our story too - of Jesus changing his mind and healing a Canaanite woman’s daughter. Now way way way back when, Israelites and Canaanites sometimes got along but often went to war against each other. If you read or hear those old stories about the people of Israel – Jesus’ own ancestors - coming to take over the promised land, you’ll read and hear all kinds of stories about God’s people moving in and taking over the land, often with brutal violence against the Canaanites.

So this makes the appearance of a woman who Matthew calls a Canaanite kind of…complicated. In her memory there might be stories of these people, Jesus’ people, who came in and took over their land. And in Jesus’ own history and tradition and memory there would be stories about this land that was rightfully theirs because God promised it to them.

So this woman and Jesus come from opposite sides of old old conflicts. She comes to Jesus and asks him to heal her daughter who suffers with an evil spirit. And Jesus says nothing.

Don’t you just wish Jesus would have said something? Anything?

But she keeps on asking and asking and asking, and finally Jesus’ disciples ask and ask and ask him to do something – bless her, get rid of her, heal her daughter, do something because she keeps on asking and asking. But Jesus says, “I’m only here for the lost sheep of Israel.”

So this Canaanite woman comes again, and keeps on asking, and says, “Lord, help me.” And Jesus says, “It’s not right to take the children’s food and throw it to the dogs.”

Did he just call her and her daughter a dog? Don’t you just wish that Jesus didn’t say that?

Then she says, because she’s not going to give up on her daughter and she’s not going to let Jesus have the last word, “Yes, but even the dogs eat the crumbs that fall from the master’s table.” And that’s when Jesus changes his mind – just like God does often enough in those stories we call the Old Testament – and Jesus says, “Your faith is great. It’s huge. You’ve got your request.” And her daughter is healed. Right then.

This isn’t really a story about a miraculous healing. It’s about a woman who persists and demands to be heard, and she’s smart and witty and knows how to argue with someone who might have power over her. And it’s about Jesus, who might have been so wrapped up in the story of his own people that even he needed to be reminded that the story of God’s people is the story of ALL people.

Do you see? It’s a story that hints at good news that is for all people, whether that good news is healing or peace or reconciliation or forgiveness or justice or fairness or being heard or mattering, really mattering. It’s also a story about breaking down walls. It begins with an Israelite and a Canaanite acting out an old conflict with each other – other against other - and it ends with a change, and there are no more others. Just a woman, her daughter, and Jesus, all overcome by the good news of God’s healing love that is given for all. There are no more “others” once the story is told.

At this point I’d like to offer a catchy conclusion, kind of a peppy something to wrap it up and tie it together. But honestly, I can’t find that today. It’s hard to find a straight line or a perfect ending when the world is on fire. For now I guess this will have to do: Remember that these are all our stories: The ones we see happening before our eyes on TV or X or Instagram and the ones we read on paper or hear on Sunday. They’re ours, like the ones you might have heard while you sat on grandma’s knee or the ones we ponder from our own lives or that keep us awake at night with worry or with joy. And all of these stories are drawn together in a larger story that is simply God’s story, a story that keeps bringing people together rather than pushing them apart. It’s always a story about new life that cannot be stopped by old feuds or wounds, or by new fires and a climate gone bonkers. It’s a story that brings together a prince and his brothers, a Jewish Messiah and a Canaanite woman and her daughter, a congregation in Winnipeg and some people in Maui, or Kelowna, or …wherever there are people. It’s always been, it always will be, a story that brings people together, and good news that gives new life. AMEN.