The Woman Who Extended the Lord's Table

Helen Bruch Pearson in her book Do What You Have The Power To Do reminds us of the power of persistent faith. Let me share with you the story of a Canaanite women who refused to be turned aside until she had received a blessing from Jesus for her daughter. Her story can be found in Matthew 15:21-28.

"Jesus went away to the district of Tyre and Sidon, an area that bordered the region of Galilee. How far he journeyed into this district, and the reasons why he sojourned there, are questions without answers. However, the narrative of the Canaanite woman of persistent faith assures us that borderlands were no different for Jesus than they are for us.

Borderlands are those fringes where the boundaries of the familiar and the strange meet and intersect. They are uncertain marginal places where histories and traditions clash and challenge and overlay one another. They touch at the edges of converging, sometimes conflicting 'us' and 'them' perceptions of reality. Uncomfortable and fractious as they may be, they are also frontiers. Borderlands are mysterious places where the inbreaking of the new is conceived and born. So it was for Jesus in this borderland encounter where he traveled.

The district of Tyre and Sidon was definitely in non-Jewish territory. A Canaanite woman approached him, seemingly out of nowhere. She was not polite or timid. She showed no respect for their differences. She did not observe the lines of courtesy and custom that had separated the Jews and the Gentiles for centuries. Determined to get Jesus' attention, she was a shouting, assaulting, scene maker of the most irritating and embarrassing sort!

Nothing would quiet her except recognition by Jesus. The disciples tried to get her to stop. They attempted to chase her away. They were rude and unkind in an effort to dissuade her. The woman had gone too far, and the disciples could take no more. Her shouting after them was too much. They implored Jesus to send her away.

Out of the silence Jesus had kept, he spoke for the first time. His answer was blunt, curt, and intended to cut off - to end any verbal exchange. Was it intended for the disciples or for the woman? Or was it decidedly ambiguous so that all Gentiles who might ever ask for a favor from this Jewish Messiah would know the answer?

The disciples were relieved at Jesus' response. Surely this would put an end to the woman's public exhibition. But no - the woman persisted. Perhaps for the sake of her demented daughter, the woman was willing to endure and make a public nuisance of herself. Perhaps Jesus was one more cure she was willing to try. Or perhaps she knew more about the Israelites' God than they did. Whatever her reasons, in her turning to Jesus she was transformed. From a posture of shouting and demanding, she bowed and knelt before Jesus with a plea from her heart.

Jesus did not relent. Regardless of how needy she was or how worthy she might be, she was born a Gentile. She stood outside God's covenant. And Jesus was not about to satisfy her by giving up the blessings that belonged only to the children of Israel. How could she presume that she was entitled to anything from the Israelites' God?

'It is not fair to take the children's food and throw it to the dogs."

His response was almost too hard to bear, for he compared this distraught Canaanite mother with a dog! Burdened by these words, was the woman's only option to slink away from the one she called "Lord" - the same one who called her a dog? To do this was not the woman's nature. In the face of rejection and insults, she refused to be refused! Time was too short and her daughter's life was too precious. The fragility of her daughter's situation kept her from being overcome with sentimentality and self-consciousness.

The woman's faith insisted that Jesus was open to hear God's will anew. He could still be struck to the heart with repentance, she believed. She did not hope for a faith that would move mountains. All she wanted was to speak the right words that Jesus would hear. With little to lose, the woman said, 'Yes Lord, yet even the dogs eat the crumbs that fall from the masters' table.

This Canaanite woman, who started out as an interruption and intrusion, became God's representative and bearer of truth to Jesus. Her faith challenged Jesus to exercise his faith in a new way - to venture beyond the familiar voices of tradition and to hear a new word from God. The woman was a stranger who shook Jesus from his Jewish way of seeing things. She was an invoker whose faith opened up new possibilities for all persons. She was a persistent petitioner, and after this encounter, no one could be denied access to God's blessings because of race or ancestry or inherited religion and culture. She had truly extended the Lord's table, and there was enough bread for all the children - Gentile, Jew, Greek, slave, free, man, woman, and child.

This story has no ending, but its beginning was with a Canaanite woman whose faith would not let Jesus go until he had blessed her daughter. With that blessing, we have all been fed. We all kneel beside our unnamed Canaanite sister and pray, "Lord, help me."

The Bent Over Woman

The story of the bent over woman can be found in Luke 13:10-17. Of all the unnamed women in the Bible, this woman's story is possibly my favorite. It speaks to me of charity and justice. It reminds me that as long as one person remains bent over, we all do. It reminds me that we all have a responsibility to reach out and help those who cannot help themselves. Let me share her story with you as it was shared with me by Helen Bruch Pearson in Do What You Have The Power To Do.

"Jesus was on his way to Jerusalem when he stopped at one of the local synagogues. It was his custom to preach and teach wherever he could, and this Sabbath day was no exception. Word had spread that Jesus was in town - the very same Jesus who had cast out demons and made the blind to see, the deaf to hear, the lame to leap, and the oppressed to sing and dance with joy. It was this Jesus who was to preach and teach at their synagogue on this sabbath!

Every Jewish community had a synagogue. It was used as a meeting place for prayer and worship services. It also had an area for the study of and discussion about the Torah - God's laws by which they lived. People gathered from the town and the surrounding villages. They found their way into the synagogue and claimed their rightful places - the men in the main area of the synagogue and the women separated and hidden behind a kind of grill work with the children and the slaves. They gathered to witness the presence of the one whom others claimed to be a miracle worker. Perhaps this day they would see and hear for themselves what Jesus was all about.

At the very back of the room behind the grill work and close to the women's entrance could be seen a grotesque shadow. Nothing but a shadow - or so it seemed - gave shape to the figure of a woman bent double. Curved and folded in upon itself, the deformed body had been her burden to carry for eighteen years. And worse, it was said that she was demented - possessed by a demon and bound by Satan. Surely she must have transgressed God's law and sinned mightily to have been afflicted with such a terrible, ugly visible sign of her disobedience.

Cast out to exist on the edges of her community beyond any companionship and contact, this woman was treated as a 'no thing'. This crippled, bent over woman reminded too many people that God might someday find them out and visit them with affliction, laying bare before the townspeople all the hypocrisies they had spent a lifetime covering and masking. This woman represented the incarnation of their secret sins and the culmination of their worst nightmares. If the people had not been so preoccupied with Jesus's visit, they would have noticed her and denied her entrance into the synagogue. She certainly had no business being where she was on that day!

All was quiet. Anticipation hung in the air with the incense. Jesus stepped forward and held up the Torah to read God's word. He paused long enough to look at the faces watching him. Here was a man who would teach them with authority and not like their own scribes - or so it seemed. Perhaps all that they had heard about Jesus was really true.

But what about that shadow of a woman - the one with the misshapen body who slouched and leaned against the wall? She could not see Jesus, yet she knew he was looking at her. She could feel the congregation turn toward her. In their turning, she knew she was no longer invisible. At the same time, it was frightening, but since she had nothing to lose, she gave herself over to whatever was about to happen.

Jesus called her. Out loud. In public. In the synagogue. It was strictly forbidden by rabbinic law that a man give any public recognition to a woman - let along speak openly to one. But here was Jesus - this unorthodox preacher - calling her to him. Surely there must be some mistake. He should not be addressing her. Not the hunchback possessed with a spirit of infirmity. Not the one from whom people recoiled and for whom they stepped aside to avoid the risk of her touch. But there was that clear voice again. Jesus was calling her to come to him.

Jesus's speech parted the crowd, and there she was! This time people moved away not to avoid her, but to look at her. It was as if for the first time in eighteen years, she really existed. Above the murmuring of the assembly, the shuffle of her sandals against the hard floor echoed throughout the synagogue. Each step seemed an eternity of slow, awkward, painful motion, but Jesus was in no hurry. In that long moment between where she had been and where she was going, she knew it was not the ruler of the synagogue who was in charge. It was Jesus who was Lord of the sabbath in this place. This was Jesus' holy time to do with as he wished. And Jesus had chosen to devote it to her.

She stood in front of him. Bowed in upon herself - just as she was. Because she could not lift her head, she could see only his hands and his feet. She wondered what his face looked like - this teacher, who through the power of his voice parted the crowd and made her feel whole. Everyone was waiting to see what would happen.

'Woman,' Jesus said, 'Woman, you are freed from you infirmity. Rid of your ailment. Set free from this disease. You are no longer bound. Woman... you are free!'

Those words spilled over her like sweet perfume and baptized her with new possibilities. They anointed her lonely, parched heart. They loosened the vicious pain of bone and tissue and sinew that had for days and years turned in upon her body.

'Woman," Jesus was saying again to her, 'you are free from your infirmity.'

This was the awful terrifying moment of decision. Did she really want to be free? The infirmity that possessed her - it was familiar. She knew its name. She knew her limits. She knew the predictable responses of the community. She had come to accept that she was to blame for her ailment. And strange and foolish as it might seem, there was comfort and security to be found in the familiarity of it all. She occupied a place that demanded little from her. She could exist day by day without much risk - as long as she stayed in her place and kept away from people. What had seemed like powerlessness, when confronted with the awesome responsibility of freedom, began to take on a power of its own.

In that moment between sickness and health, between brokenness and wholeness, the woman knew the decision was hers to make. She was held between the tenacious grasp of a familiar past and the dreadful promise of a future yet unshaped by the demands of healing and peace and justice. While she knew she could not make herself well, she did know that she could refuse the gift of healing offered by Jesus. She could choose to remain bound and unfree.

Jesus waited. He waited until he knew her heart had decided, and then he reached toward her and laid his hands upon her. It was like awakening from a cramped position in a long hard sleep. No longer bent over, her body still ached from all those years of being folded in upon itself. And it ached from the unspeakable goodness and joy of the miracle that lifted her upright once more. For the first time in eighteen years, she could see straight ahead of her. She could look people squarely in their faces. A simple thing most people never think about, but this woman knew it to be a miracle. It was into the eyes of Jesus that she first looked, and in the looking, she knew the source of her healing and her salvation. And she praised God!

There they were - all the critics of Jesus circled together around the synagogue ruler. They were indignant, frustrated, and deeply angered. They had been publicly humiliated and chastised. How dare Jesus cause this kind of commotion among the people - and in their synagogue! How dare he take the sabbath away from them - and all at the cost of their self esteem! The rumors were right. He was a dangerous man - this Jesus! Not only had he healed a worthless woman but he had gained the confidence and support of the entire congregation. He held them spellbound with his words and his actions. This man would have to be destroyed.

But I need not repeat this story to you. you have been in the synagogue from the beginning of this story until now. You watched the responses of those in the congregation. Perhaps you were even surprised at some of your own responses. Old prejudices and broken relationships that keep you bent over still reside in the dark places of your heart. And yes, Jesus saw you. He held you in his glance as he looked over the congregation - for what seemed like forever. When he named some in the congregation 'Hypocrites!' you could not escape the cutting edge of his accusation. And when Jesus proclaimed release and freedom for the bent over woman, you participated in that healing. When Jesus touched her, he touched you. When she stood up, you were lifted. When she praised God, your doxology was raised. And it seemed like you stood tall and straight for the first time in many years. If one of God's sons or daughters is bent over, we are all stooped and diminished. No one stands upright alone!

Like the bent over woman who had to choose between freedom and bondage - between brokenness and wholeness - you have the opportunity to write the end of this story, for it is your story, too. How will you choose? What will you do?"

Discovering the potential within

God of life, be with me, breathe through me, as I ponder this life that I am fashioning.

Society, culture, family, and religion all shape our sense of self. Experience has shown me that the most effective people are the ones who are most comfortable with themselves. They are the ones that have been able to separate themselves from the myths and expectations projected onto them by others.

In the book of Genesis is the story of a young woman named Rachel. Rachel was a shepherdess, the daughter of Laban, and the sister of Leah. One day, as she was leading her flock she met a young man named Jacob who had traveled to her land in search of a wife. When he saw the very beautiful Rachel, Jacob knew instantly that he had found his wife.

Jacob approached Rachel's father and as was the custom of the time, entered into an agreement to work for seven years in return for the right to marry Rachel. When the time came for the marriage, Laban tricked Jacob by sending to the wedding ritual a heavily veiled Leah instead of Rachel. When Jacob discovered the deception, he approached Laban and was told that he could marry Rachel as well, but would have to work for another seven years. Jacob, who desired Rachel above all others, agreed.

You can imagine the competition that was being set up between the two sisters. Both desired Jacob's love and attention. Rachel is described as being very beautiful, while Leah is described as having weak eyes. Rachel had her betrothed stolen from her and given to Leah through their father's deceit. Both sisters were dependent on a father or husband for their survival. And if that were not enough, it turns out that in a society that valued the birth of male children, Leah was able to produce sons while Rachel was barren.

Each sister must have felt inadequate as a result of the cultural, family, and religions expectations of their time. Leah knew that her sister was prettier and it must have stung knowing that that Jacob had to be tricked into marrying her. I am sure that she felt if she could produce one more son that perhaps her husband would love and accept her a little more. And Rachel must have felt betrayed by her family who should have been offering protection and support. I am sure she longed to give her husband the sons he desired and feared that he would no longer love her if she could not.

I can certainly identify with the longings and frustrations of both sisters. Often times our sense of self worth is tied up in external things that are beyond our control and these things can cause us to feel inferior and worthless. As happened to Rachel and Leah, when this happens we can become envious and demanding. In order to overcome our feeling of inadequacy we often seek validation in external rewards. But these external rewards will never be able to fill the emptiness inside. Our house won't be big enough, our car won't be nice enough, our significant other won't be cute enough, our salary won't be high enough. When our sense of worth is tied up in external things, the problem is not with what we don't have, but with how we see ourself.

We grab for external rewards hoping that they will increase our value. Those external rewards may take many forms. They may be the things we buy to make ourself feel better. They may be the crowd we hang with in hopes of gaining popularity and acceptance. They may be substances we ingest to soothe our emotions. But in reality, in order to become powerful and transformative people, we have to find our value inside ourselves, not by grabbing more and more external things.

A time came in the life of Jacob, Leah, and Rachel when God commanded them to pack up their belongings and make a pilgrimmage to Bethel to make an altar before God. As part of this pilgrimmage, they were commanded to put away their household idols - all the outward objects that they worshipped. We, too, face this same call. Before we can come to our place of destiny, our Bethel, we too must set aside our idols. We have to make a choice. We can continue to compare, compete and project a false image, or we can identify and discard those things that have become a substitute for God.

Giving up our idols can be a daunting task. When we do, it causes us to come face to face with ourselves. We are left with nothing but us. And that can be a scary prospect. But if we will only give it a chance, we would find that within ourself we can find great potential. When we give up our idols, we have a chance to reclaim our true selves. Underneath the glitz and facade, lies the person that God created and that person is filled with a reserve of awesome potential.

For us, Bethel represents our God place, the place where we can listen to the voice of God and experience his love. This is the place to which we are drawn in order to reconnect with a God who renews and restores us. It is a place of transformation where we can shed the false self imposed on us by society. It is the place we can come to to accept the gift within ourself that is ourself.

In the end, Rachel and Jacob's clan were invited to remain in Bethel and live there forever. We, too, are invited to become permanent dwellers at our own Bethel. We can no longer afford to be occasional visitors. We need to settle in and make ourselves at home. We need to take the time to look within ourselves and become the genuine person that God created us to be.

The story ends with Rachel in Bethel having given up her household idols. Finally her womb is opened and she gives birth to a son. Unfortunately, she died in childbirth - giving birth to her dream. May you reclaim your true self in time to give birth to your dreams.

Text: Genesis 29:1-35; 30:1-24; 31:1-21; 35:1-4

Consider the following:

1. What idols have you held on to or have held onto you?
2. In what ways do these idols surface in your life?
3. In what ways have these idols stifled your potential?
4. What's the first step you need to take on your journey to Bethel?

Resource: Leading Lessons by Jeanne Porter