Sermon for Georgie's Baptism - Matthew 15:21-28

This is a big day for little Georgie, on the occasion of her baptism (at the 10:30 service). One thing she is going to learn is that when you grow up in the church, adults will remember you as a little kid, and make comments about what you wore to church or any shenanigans you got into. My daughter gets this all the time. Though it's been several years now, she still gets comments about the pink ruffled skirt she always wore, paired with sparkly red cowboy boots with Jesse from Toy Story on them. She completed the look with her hands on her hips and a bit of strong-willed sass, of course. I look forward to seeing Georgie's signature looks over the years. And to the ways the church will remember and love her long before she has any say in the matter.

According to our gospel lesson, this is an auspicious day for a baby girl to be baptized. Matthew has introduced us to the Canaanite woman, a fierce advocate for her own daughter, and a woman who arguably changed the course of Christian history. The text doesn't say she had her hands on her hips with a bit of sass, but it's definitely implied.

Her presence in the gospel has always been a surprise, and it's even more surprising that she goes head to head with Jesus. She is an outsider, a Greek-speaking Gentile, and a woman. In other words, someone with no business talking to Jesus at all. She doesn't even get a name, though tradition later calls her Justa, from the Latin for just. She has come to ask Jesus to heal her daughter, who is tormented by a demon.

And Jesus' response is more surprising still. Believing his ministry is only for the lost sheep of Israel, he brushes her off, calling her a dog, which was a common ethnic slur at the time. "It is not fair to take the children's food and throw it to the dogs," he says. This is not the Jesus we think we know.

Over the years, scholars have tried to clean this part up. They point out that the word he uses is a diminutive, meaning something more like "little puppy." Or maybe he’s tired, of just having an off day. Maybe he says dog with a wink, because a teaching moment is about to happen. But there's no evidence in the text for any of those readings. To me, the simplest explanation is the most convincing one: Jesus has been caught with his compassion down (pulpitfiction.com).

The Canaanite woman doesn't back down. Her comeback is sharp: "Yes, Lord, yet even the dogs eat the crumbs that fall from their masters' table." And with that, she wins the argument. Jesus changes his mind. Scholars point out that this is the only place in the Gospels where that happens. He heals her daughter.

It’s interesting to ask why Matthew would tell this story. Why give us such an unflattering picture of the Messiah? Harvard scholar Elizabeth Schüssler Fiorenza argues that this story is told because the Canaanite woman changed history. Consider the evidence: just before this passage in Matthew, Jesus feeds five thousand people, with twelve baskets of leftovers. Twelve echoes the twelve tribes of Israel. Right after this encounter, he feeds four thousand, with seven baskets of leftovers.  Seven was often associated with the nations, a symbol of the whole world. And by the end of Matthew's gospel, Jesus sends his disciples out to make disciples of all nations. However we interpret the exchange, the woman's persistence marks a turning point: when the circle of Jesus' ministry begins to widen beyond Israel, toward the whole world.

That’s good news, but the story does leave us with some uncomfortable questions. For example, what slurs about other people do we carry around in our hearts? Are there demons in our own lives, or in our life together, that need to be cast out? And here's the hardest one: have our hearts hardened in ways we barely notice, not out of malice, but just from comfort, or habit, or never being asked to stretch?

The Canaanite woman takes on these questions with her whole body, kneeling in front of Jesus in an argument she has no business winning. She shows us what holy audacity looks like. It isn't arrogance, and it isn't just insisting on getting your way. It's the audacity to believe that God's mercy is bigger than the boundaries we've drawn around it, even boundaries Jesus himself started with. It's the courage to keep asking, and to refuse to believe that anyone is beyond the reach of God's love.

And that is exactly the kind of audacity we are promising to nurture in Georgie, and in ourselves. Today we will make some pretty bold promises on Georgie's behalf. As a community of faith, we promise to pray for her, teach her, encourage her, and love her. We promise to help her grow in faith, and to seek and serve Christ in all people. We promise to help her learn that the circle of God's love is always wider than we imagine.

We don't know who Georgie will become. We don't know what questions she will ask, what causes she will champion, what boundaries she will challenge, or whose life she will change. We don't yet know what she will teach us. But I trust that she will grow up with some of the Canaanite woman's holy audacity: the courage to trust in God's goodness, to speak up when something is wrong, and to believe that there is always room for one more at the table.

That is our charge, too. Not simply to teach Georgie what we already know, but to become the kind of church that is willing to be changed. To keep discovering where God is widening the circle, and to have the courage to follow. Georgie, you will have wonderful opportunities to learn what it means to follow Jesus. And we will learn with you. May God give you a fierce heart, a generous spirit, and the holy audacity to believe that God's love is always wider than we imagine.