Bible reading: Matthew 15:21-28.

When I was a child, playing “Cowboys and Indians” was all the rage – probably fuelled by Wild West comics and television programmes. We loved to dress up in cowboy clothes or Indian feathered head-dresses, we’d brandish (and shoot) our cap guns and bows and arrows. And, if we couldn’t play outside, there were always model cowboy and Indian figures to arrange on the kitchen table – although the horses had an annoying habit of falling over! It was pretty innocent fun.

But I can’t imagine children playing like that today, for many reasons. One of them is that we probably wouldn’t give them even toy pistols (although light sabres and knights’ swords still seem to be acceptable). More to the point, we’d reject calling Native Americans “Indians” and we’d feel bad about the way in which they were always characterised as the “baddies” while the cowboys were regarded as the “goodies” – an utter travesty of history legitimised by the Great American Dream.

For, of course, the Native Americans were there long before the arrival of the white men. That’s also true for the First Nation people of Canada, the Incas, Aztecs and Quechuas in Latin America, the Australian Aborigines and New Zealand Maori, and that’s before we even begin to think of Africa or the Indian sub-continent. Over the centuries many indigenous people have had their land snatched from them, have been corralled into reserves or ghettos, have been labelled as “backward” or “uncivilised” and separated from the so-called mainstream of society. Many died due to poor economic conditions or diseases brought in by the outsiders to which they had no resistance. It’s no wonder that many have turned to drink, are beset by depression or have committed suicide.

Why am I telling you these depressing stories? It’s because Christians often forget that the Hebrews were invaders and colonisers in the land of Canaan. Yes, we love to hear about Moses beseeching Pharaoh to “let his people go”, about the Red Sea parting to let the Israelites pass through (skating over the drowning of the Egyptian army), and of the miraculous provision of food and drink in the desert; but our interest tends to come to a crashing halt once we actually get to the Promised Land. Yes, we’re intrigued by the spies’ visit to Rahab (although that story has aspects we’d prefer not to think about), we may like to act out the dramatic collapse of Jericho’s city walls, we may even learn a lesson from Achan’s disobedience and its consequences. But the one thing we tend not to ask is, “So what happened to the Canaanites?” – probably because we don’t want to think about the question’s horrific but obvious answer. One scholar says that, by about five centuries before Jesus and eight after their Jewish conquest, the Canaanites had ceased to exist as a distinct ethnic group.

This may explain why there is only one mention of Canaanites in the New Testament, the one which comes in the story we read earlier. And it’s significant that Jesus and his disciples encounter this lady while their visiting the region of Tyre and Sidon, cities in southern Lebanon rather than in Israel proper. Recent DNA analysis of ancient skeletons has proved that these places were still largely populated by people of Canaanite descent; it appears that the folk who hadn’t been slaughtered by the Hebrews during Joshua’s time had been displaced northwards. This means our scenario has similarities to the time when Jesus met the Samaritan woman at the well: there is a long history of pain and discrimination between him, a Jew, and the lady he is talking to. That history both colours their conversation and helps us understand it.

And it isn’t easy for us to understand. For, first, the woman comes rushing out to Jesus – and he completely blanks her. We don’t know how she knows who Jesus is, but she clearly does as she calls him “Lord” and “Son of David” – titles which you’d only have given to someone you believed to be the Jewish Messiah – and has no qualms about calling on him for help. (The original word used in the story suggests that she didn’t just cry out once but repeatedly). We’d expect Jesus to receive her kindly and compassionately listen to her request, but he doesn’t. In fact he does nothing at all: he just stands quietly, making no move towards her and not saying a word. The disciples – impatient men who have no time for a crazy foreign woman – see Jesus’ lack of action and quickly rush in: “Send her away, Lord, you don’t want to be bothering with her, she’s simply being a nuisance”.

And Jesus then speaks: “I was sent only to the lost sheep of Israel”. In other words, “She’s not one of us, in fact she’s none of my business”: a response which shocks us as it seems so out of character. But that’s just the start, as things go from bad to worse. The woman is determined not to be put off; she refuses to go away and now kneels before Jesus, pleading for help. Yet he remains unbending and replies in words which sound unforgiveably rude or even racist “It’s not right to take the children’s bread and toss it to the dogs”: the family comes first.

I’ll come back to the conversation in a moment; but first we must ask, “What on earth is going on here? This doesn’t sound like the Jesus I know and respect!” Well, there are a couple of possible answers. The first comes at the very start of the story, where we read that Jesus “withdrew” to Tyre and Sidon. Apparently that word “withdrew” is the one that you’d use if you were talking about an army pulling back and regrouping after a bloody battle. Now, earlier in the chapter Jesus has had yet another bruising encounter with the critical Jewish religious leaders, while in the previous chapters we’ve seen him repeatedly trying to get some time alone with his Father, attempts which are repeatedly foiled by the crowds who work out where he is, follow him, and make wearying demands on him.

So by the time of today’s story Jesus is physically, emotionally and spiritually drained. Perhaps he’s gone to this non-Jewish area of Tyre and Sidon hoping that he won’t get recognised. If so, we can imagine him thinking, “Oh no, here we go again: will I ever be able to get any peace?” as the woman approaches. He sees his little holiday being spoiled so snaps back at her in uncharacteristic fashion. Is that too far-fetched an idea for us to swallow? Perhaps so; but it does remind us that Jesus, Son of God that we believe he is, was truly human as well. Was this an instance when that humanity, just for a moment, took control? I’ll leave that thought for you to mull over.

So Jesus might have been annoyed by this woman’s intrusion on his free time (those words “Jesus” and “annoyed” don’t sit well together, do they?). But we also need to consider his opening words: “I was sent only to the lost sheep of Israel”, especially as they contrast so sharply with his command at the end of this same Gospel of Matthew, “Make disciples of all nations”. And here we have to ask: what was Jesus’ mission to the world; or, more precisely, what did Jesus think his mission was? Was it to everyone (which is what we all believe) or was it specifically to his own Jewish people?

That’s not an easy question to answer. Right at the start of his Gospel Matthew sneaks in an Old Testament quotation, from the prophet Micah, when the Wise Men are visiting Herod after Jesus’ birth: he says that “a ruler who will shepherd my people Israel” will come from Bethlehem. Later we meet Jesus gazing at the crowds, feeling compassion for them because they were like sheep in desperate need of a shepherd, and sending out his disciples on a healing tour. That’s well known; but you might have forgotten the strict instruction which Jesus gave the disciples: “Do not go among the Gentiles or enter any town of the Samaritans. Go rather to the lost sheep of Israel”. We are brought right back to his conversation with the Canaanite woman.

However Matthew’s Gospel – primarily targeted at Jewish readers – also offers us another view. For it includes the story of Jesus healing the servant of a Roman centurion – clearly not a Jew – and saying, “I have not found anyone in Israel with such great faith. I say to you that many will come from the east and the west, and will take their places … with Abraham, Isaac and Jacob in the kingdom of heaven”. In other words Jesus is stating that Gentiles with faith will come into God’s kingdom on equal terms with Jews. Now that story is found in ch. 8, while today’s comes, in ch. 15. Yet the broad and inclusive nature of Jesus’ mission seems to have narrowed in the later story.

So what’s happening here? Did Matthew juggle his stories around, taking a event that occurred late in Jesus’ ministry and placing it earlier in his written record? He was the editor, he had the right to do that: but why? Or did Jesus find it harder to overcome his Jewish prejudice against the Canaanites, ancient inhabitants of the land, than against the Romans, more recent occupiers? Or was he initially unsure of who he should minister to, did his understanding of what the Father had sent him to do grow and develop as time went on?

We can’t know the answers to those questions; but we are told that Jesus (and again I’m thinking of him in human terms) was just like every other boy, learning and growing and maturing during his childhood and adolescence. So is it beyond the bounds of possibility to think that, even as an adult, he needed time to grasp the full scope of what he was doing? I think not. After all, the best teachers are those who know they still have much to learn and are humble enough to admit it. Perhaps Jesus only understood the full measure of his mission as he drew near to his Cross. But who am I to know if that is correct?

Let’s finish off the conversation, which we left it the point where Jesus said, “It’s not right to take the children’s bread and toss it to the dogs”. I think he meant this to be his “killer” line which would bring the dialogue to an end. But he hadn’t reckoned with the woman’s intelligence and wit, for she fires back a swift riposte: “That’s true”, she says, “But don’t forget that even the dogs eat the crumbs that fall from their master’s table”. Now it appears that Gentile people often had a more intimate relationship with household animals than most Jews. While a Jewish family might have fed the dogs any leftover food, outside, after the family had finished their meal, Gentiles may have had their pet or puppy dogs sitting under the table, hoping for falling scraps – in fact the children of the family might have surreptitiously passed on some tasty titbits while their parents weren’t looking!

What I’m saying is that the Canaanite woman cleverly picked up the difference between her cultural background and Jesus’, and used it to wrongfoot him by saying, “You see? Your own Jewish people may be the ones that you’ve been called to help, I’m not going to argue about that. But we Gentiles will be very happy to receive any healing or help that you might just have left over”. Jesus is astounded by what’s been called “her typical Middle Eastern reply”; he bursts into laughter and says, “All right, you win!” (yes, I know that Matthew doesn’t actually say that). He praises the lady for her faith in him and her dogged refusal to take “no” for answer, and heals her child. Job done!

So how should we conclude this message? Does it teach us that Jesus healed many people during his life on earth? Yes, but so many other stories in the Gospels do that. Does it show that Christ reached out to people on the edges of the society more than to those in the middle ground? I’m not so sure about that: surely the woman reached out to Jesus rather than the other way round. Does it show some sort of inner tussle between Jesus, the Son of God and Jesus, the man of his place and time? Yes, I think it does -although you may disagree. Does it show Jesus learning from his Father even as he ministers to needy people? Again, I’m inclined to show that it does.

But I also think that Matthew has another purpose in telling us this story, one which we too may need to heed. I’ve said that this Gospel was principally aimed at Jewish readers. And you’ll know that some of the early Jewish Christians were very reluctant to accept Gentile converts on equal terms: they had always God’s been chosen people and couldn’t understand that he now wanted to bring everyone into his spiritual family. So perhaps the most important thing Matthew wanted to say to his was this, “Look: even Jesus struggled in the way he regarded Gentiles, even he at first thought that they were beyond God’s pale, even he had to overcome all the history which had taught him that the Jews were ‘top dogs’. Seeing that woman’s faith made Jesus realise that God loved Gentiles just as much as he loved Jews. Our Lord was able to make that shift in his mindset: so should you”.

You see, at the end of the day, the cowboys weren’t the goodies and the Indians weren’t the baddies. All of them were imperfect, all of them were needy, all were loved by God equally. There are no second-class citizens in God’s world or in his Church; with his grace we must overcome our prejudices and treat everyone exactly the same.