When you go on vacation you have a chance to step back and look at things more objectively. I always find that to be the case when I go on vacation, and I always return with new and fresh ideas. One idea whose time has come, I believe, is that it’s time to set up some guidelines, some rules, about whom we should allow to worship here. First of all, I think we should only allow people who are truly interested in their faith and are willing to commit to being here every Sunday, unless for good cause prohibited. Second, only people who are tithers, or at least who are committed to working toward a tithe. I suppose we should also have a guideline having to do with a dress code: men, it’s time we wear coat and tie; and women, let’s go back to covering your heads, shoulders, and knees. Ushers will have the added duty of enforcing the dress code. We will also let you know how you are to vote if you want to worship here.
If you are horrified by this new idea I have had, good. I hope you are! If I really were to come up with such a plan I would be inundated with visits, phone calls, and letters expressing disagreement over such exclusivity. And of course the vestry would be inundated as well. I love the diversity of the Church and of this parish in particular. We have people of all ages, from the newly baptized Darling twins to Dora Riverol, who is 101 years old. We have people from different ethnic backgrounds, of different races; people who are well-off financially and people who aren’t able to make ends meet; people of every profession; Republicans, Democrats, Independents; citizens and non-citizens….Redeemer, like churches all over the world, is truly a house of prayer for all people. No matter what our circumstances are, no matter how different we are in the eyes of the world, we are united in our need for Christ, and that need is most apparent when we come to this altar to receive the Body and Blood of Christ.
If we were to be exclusive, then where would we start and where would we end? Who would be spared, for example, if we used sin as a reason for exclusion? Borrowing the words of the psalmist, “If you, Lord, were to note what is done amiss; O Lord, who could stand?” Primarily, however, our revulsion toward such exclusivity comes from our knowledge and experience of Christ himself. We know Christ to be the Savior of the world, a light to lighten the nations. One of our collects says it well: “Lord Jesus Christ, you stretched out your arms of love on the hard wood of the cross that everyone might come within the reach of your saving embrace.” Even more basic than that is our own personal knowledge that we are not worthy to be here, but are here only by God’s grace.
If creedal orthodoxy were the criterion for being allowed to come to church, I would have been in trouble in my late teens and well into my twenties. With respect to anything miraculous or supernatural in scripture, I always had an explanation that explained away anything extraordinary. Bishop Spong would have been proud of me! The amazing thing to me is that throughout that period in my life I stayed in the Church and continued my plans to go to seminary. And the Church always kept its doors open to me, allowing me a place even though my beliefs were barely Christian. But that is the Church, isn’t it? The Church stayed with me until I came to my senses.
When Jesus wanted a little vacation with his disciples, they went into Gentile country, the district of Tyre and Sidon. Jesus’ reputation had spread even into pagan territory, and when he arrived with his disciples, a Canaanite woman recognized him and begged him to cure her daughter, who was possessed by a demon. At first, Jesus did not even acknowledge her presence. When she persisted, he told her his mission was to the lost sheep of the house of Israel; in other words, to the Jews. Yet she continued to beg him to cure her daughter. This time he responded, “It is not fair to take the children’s bread and throw it to the dogs.”
Here is our Lord, the Savior of the world, who would stretch out his arms on the cross that everyone might come within the reach of his saving embrace, turning down a woman who was begging him to cure her daughter just because she wasn’t Jewish. That might appear to you to be a bit uncharacteristic of Jesus, a disconnect, if you will. At least it appears that way to me.
But the woman persisted, stating that curing her daughter did not mean he was abandoning his mission to the Jews. “Yes, Lord,” she said, “yet even the dogs eat the crumbs that fall from their master’s table.” With that response, Jesus praised the woman for her faith and healed her daughter.
We aren’t given any other details, so it is hard to know why Jesus responded so harshly to the woman in the beginning. Perhaps he was joking with her. We aren’t told what inflection he used in his voice, or if, as he said the words, he had a twinkle in his eye that only the woman could see. Or perhaps he was testing her faith, which seemed so great, especially in contrast to the religious Jews who had just rejected him.
But the really significant aspect of this miracle is that he did heal the daughter of the Canaanite woman. The Gospel is for everybody. The healing word of Christ is not restricted to those already within the circle of faith.
And so his Body, the Church, has acted accordingly ever since—at least when it has been healthy! And the Body of Christ is never healthier than when it reaches out lavishly with the love of Christ. That is exactly what happened a week ago yesterday at the Day of Hope. When we see a need and it is within our power to meet it, then let us reach out with the love of Christ.
I love the diversity of the Church, and the reason we are so diverse is that as persons are touched and healed by the love of Christ they are drawn to him, and ultimately become a part of his Body. Thanks be to God for his great love, that everyone might come within the reach of his salvation.