Twelfth Sunday after Pentecost

We are called to love our neighbors as ourselves.

I have a sticker on my water bottle that reads:

Love your neighbor who doesn’t look like you, think like you, love like you, speak like you, pray like you, or vote like you. Simply love your neighbor.

In our modern, global culture, we are often reminded that words matter when loving our
neighbor. We have inherited terms and phrases from white straight male European
normative culture that when considered more thoughtfully are often derived from
derogatory or racist histories.

For example, the term “Indian” meaning people from the Indus Valley was applied in the
Americas because Columbus thought he’d reached the shores of South Asia. The term stuck because people of both lands had brown skin.

Today, there are extensive discussions by the indigenous peoples of the Americas to
identify their preferred names. “Native Americans” has become an umbrella term that some accept, and others reject, as in reality there were many unique indigenous nations before European settlers arrived.

Some folks from Central America prefer Latino versus the term Hispanic because it
recognizes their unique cultural heritage that is separate from the history of Spanish
conquest and occupation. Intersecting with this preference are the additions of the suffixes
Latina and Latin-x – allowing better representation of women and LGBTQ+ persons.
However, others still prefer Hispanic, and emphasize the need to ask their preference.
The conversation gets more complicated over the generations. Not long ago, “black” was
considered a derogatory term for people of color, but a later movement chose to own this
term proudly so it could no longer be used as an insult.

Similarly, in recent years, many in the LGBTQ+ community now own the label queer as an
umbrella term to describe individuals who don’t identify as straight or who have non-
normative gender identities. I have some friends who use the term with pride; others still
consider it a slur.

This is part of affirming people and being more inclusive. But, add a dose of good
intentions, and if you choose the wrong term, if you label someone the wrong way, you
might find yourself downwind of a scornful correction. It can be uncomfortable and
shaming.

This topic is further complicated by our human instinct for tribalism. We are naturally
inclined to spend time and affiliate with people that look like us and share our biases. It’s
just how most of us are by default.

Today, we seem to even see that in Jesus as he responds to the Canaanite woman.
Jesus is explicit, “I was sent only to the lost sheep of the house of Israel.”

Translation – I came only for the Jewish people.

When she pushes, he becomes derogatory calling her a pestering female dog.
I’ll leave that translation to you.

I cannot explain his choice, and I won’t excuse it. Some scholars try to justify Jesus’s
behavior as part of an object lesson for the disciples, but many agree that Jesus was using a common prejudicial slur. We are often reminded that Jesus was fully human as well as fully divine, and here he seems to be having a very human, reactive moment. I wonder what we find in the lesson when we allow that Jews of the time were prejudicial of outsiders or “gentiles” as they are referred to repeatedly. What if Jesus did insult the
woman to make her go away?

Even if this is an object lesson, the story of the Canaanite woman is significant to the
Gospels. Through this story, multiple prejudices are challenged simply because the
woman’s story is included in the Gospels. Women did not challenge men, and outsiders did
not appeal to Jews. So, the inclusion of this story in the Gospels reveals an important shift in
Jesus’s ministry. We’ll come back to that in a moment.

But first, I want to explore what happens when we have a difficult moment. Sometimes we
say the wrong things. Sometimes we rely on our default assumptions and stereotype
people. Sometimes we might be trying to be “correct” and find ourselves rebuked anyway.
It can be very confusing and embarrassing to even try sometimes.

I am reminded of a story that Brene Brown shares from her research interviews.

A man in his late twenties shared a story of driving home from Los Angeles to Newport
Beach to visit his parents.

He said that during the morning drive, he made a commitment to be more patient with and tolerant of his father. However, they had a long history of not getting along.
Later that day, as he was standing in the kitchen making small talk, he asked his father,
“How are your new neighbors?”

His father said, “We really like them. We’ve had them over for dinner a couple of times and
we’ve become friends. They’re cooking us dinner next week. They’re Oriental and she’s
going to make her special dumplings, so your mom is really looking forward to it.”
Immediately, the young man ripped into his father. “Oriental? Jesus, Dad! Are you kidding?
Racist much?”

Before his father could even respond, he went back at him. “‘Oriental’ is so racist! Do you
even know where they’re from? There’s no country called ‘the orient.’ How embarrassing!”
Rather than arguing, his father stood in the kitchen with his head down. When he finally
looked up at his son, he was teary-eyed. “I’m sorry, son. I’m not sure what I’ve done or not
done to make you so angry. I just can’t do anything right. Nothing I do or say is good
enough for you.”

There was total silence. Then his father said, “I’d stay and let you tell me what a jerk I am,
but I’m taking the neighbor I supposedly hate to pick up her husband from cataract
surgery. She doesn’t drive and he had to take a cab this morning.” 1

Maybe you relate to the son in this story, or maybe the dad, or maybe even both at different times.

What strikes me is that for each person, there is a moment, an opportunity to respond and
either be compassionate or condescending. To listen and try to connect, or to snipe and
detach.

While I’d love it if Jesus offered an apology, I appreciate what he does model. Often when
we’ve had a bad moment or when we feel attacked or outraged, our response is to armor
up and become more rigid, closing others out.

But Jesus makes a different choice.

Jesus offers us an example of responding after a difficult moment. Despite his initial rigid
stance, Jesus pauses and listens before reacting again.

This moment is a turning point that has ramifications for the direction of Jesus’s movement.

After first rejecting the woman’s pleas, Jesus listens and pays attention. After first limiting
the scope of his ministry, Jesus recognizes the faith of an outsider.

In this moment, we find the model for following Jesus. In this moment, we find the promise
of our own salvation as non-Jewish followers of Jesus.

The Kin-dom of God is near, and we draw it closer by choosing to be expansive instead of
just inclusive. Sometimes, it’s in the smallest moment, the pause, that we find the biggest
opportunity to model the way of love. It’s in this moment that we have the opportunity to
listen instead of queuing up a quick retort.

Does this mean we are expected to be perfect? No. It means we might have reactive
moments, and then pause to listen. It means that we might mean well, but say something
insensitive. It means that we strive to respect the dignity of every human being, even when
we disagree with them.

The Kin-dom of God is the neighborhood or community where we can learn together and
grow together, being intentional, being kind, and offering understanding. Love your
neighbor who doesn’t look like you, think like you, love like you, speak like you, pray like
you, or vote like you.

For this is how we continue to expand the ministry of Jesus to everyone.

The Rev. Mercedes Clements

1 Brown, Brené. Braving the Wilderness: The Quest for True Belonging and the Courage to Stand Alone . Random House Publishing Group. Kindle Edition.