First Blessings

Apostles Anglican Church
Fr. John A. Roop

Worthy of the Gospel of Christ
(Jonah 3:10-4:11, Ps 145:14-21, Phil 1:21-27, Matt 20:1-16)

Only let your manner of life be worthy of the gospel of Christ (Phil 1:27a).

In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Introduction

I think it was the writer Robert Fulghum who told of his recurring nightmare. In it, he is standing in line for the final judgment, making his way slowly, person by person, to the pearly gates and to St. Peter for a verdict on his eternal destiny. Directly in front of Fulghum in the line is a tiny, stooped, old woman dressed in blue and white. When she finally makes it to the front of the line with Fulghum next up behind her, St. Peter looks down at her, shakes his head sadly and says, “I’m sorry, Mother Teresa, but you just should have done more. Next.”

Perhaps I should have continued our focus on St. Matthew’s Gospel this morning, but St. Paul’s Epistle to the Philippians kept attracting my attention. It was just one verse — one part of one verse, actually.

Only let your manner of life be worthy of the gospel of Christ (Phil 1:27a).

I know this much about lectio divina, about sacred reading. When a word speaks to you, you do well to pay attention.

Only let your manner of life be worthy of the gospel of Christ (Phil 1:27a).

For some reason, I thought about Fulghum’s dream when I read these words of St. Paul, his imperative to his brothers and sisters in Philippi to let their manner of life be worthy of the gospel of Christ. The linguistic image that St. Paul paints is that of a citizen living in such a way as to bring honor and glory to his people and nation. We Americans do not have the best reputation abroad; the description “Ugly Americans” was coined to describe the arrogance and thoughtlessness of many American tourists. We too often fail to live up to the highest ideals of our national creeds. St. Paul says, “Don’t be Ugly Christians. Don’t give Christ a bad name in the culture. Live up to the faith you profess.”

Only let your manner of life be worthy of the gospel of Christ (Phil 1:27a).

What does it look like, what does it entail, this manner of life worthy of the gospel of Christ? There are many valid ways to answer that question. But, since it is St. Paul writing, it seems reasonable to take his own life as an answer. There are three characteristics in St. Paul’s manner of life — Well, there are more than three, but sermons are only allowed to have three points; more than that and people get fidgety. So, I have reduced it to three. — there are three characteristics, three commitments in St. Paul’s life that are central to a manner of life worthy of the gospel of Christ: conversion, vocation, and suffering.

Conversion

The conversion of Saul the Pharisee to St. Paul the Apostle, beginning on the road to Damascus, is to many people the archetype for all conversions: a great moment of in-breaking truth, a brilliant light illuminating the spiritual darkness, a radical disconnect between one manner of life and another. John Newton, slave trader turned Anglican priest, expressed it this way:

Amazing grace, how sweet the sound,
that saved a wretch like me!
I once was lost, but now am found,
was blind, but now I see (John Newton, Amazing Grace, Public Domain).

Do you see the radical nature of Newton’s conversion: wretch to saved, lost to found; blind to seeing?

Was this also the nature of Saul’s conversion — a radical disconnect from all that went before, a repudiation of one life and the embrace of another? Well, yes…and no. Saul was a good Jew before his conversion, and Paul was a good Jew after. Saul was zealous before his conversion, and Paul was just as zealous — less the violent aspect of zeal — after. Saul was a man with a mission before his conversion, and Paul was a man with a mission after. Post-conversion Paul bore a great resemblance to pre-conversion Saul. So, what did change? Just this: Saul had no place in his life for Jesus; Paul had no life in himself apart from Jesus. Saul’s great conversion was to Jesus as Lord. And that is a profound disconnect. The central conviction of Saul’s life, his core belief, was the great creed of Israel, the Shema:

4 “Hear, O Israel: The LORD our God, the LORD is one” (Deut 6:4).

And Saul the Pharisee could see no place for Jesus in this confession. But, after his conversion, after encountering the resurrected Jesus in his vision on the way to Damascus, Paul the Apostle saw Jesus right at the heart of that confession. Listen to how he reinterprets the Shema in his letter to the Corinthians:

5 For although there may be so-called gods in heaven or on earth—as indeed there are many “gods” and many “lords”— 6 yet for us there is one God, the Father, from whom are all things and for whom we exist, and one Lord, Jesus Christ, through whom are all things and through whom we exist (1 Cor 8:5-6).

And that is the nature of Saul’s conversion: to see Jesus at the center of all things, to see Jesus as the one in whom we live and move and have our being.

Only let your manner of life be worthy of the gospel of Christ. That means conversion. That means placing Jesus at the center of all things. That may mean parting with all lesser pearls for the sake of one pearl of great price. Again, St. Paul, this time in writing to the Philippians:

4 If anyone else thinks he has reason for confidence in the flesh, I have more: 5 circumcised on the eighth day, of the people of Israel, of the tribe of Benjamin, a Hebrew of Hebrews; as to the law, a Pharisee; 6 as to zeal, a persecutor of the church; as to righteousness under the law, blameless. 7 But whatever gain I had, I counted as loss for the sake of Christ. 8 Indeed, I count everything as loss because of the surpassing worth of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord. For his sake I have suffered the loss of all things and count them as rubbish, in order that I may gain Christ 9 and be found in him, not having a righteousness of my own that comes from the law, but that which comes through faith in Christ, the righteousness from God that depends on faith (Phil 5:4b-9).

That is conversion: the complete reorientation of oneself toward Jesus. My experience — the experience of the Church — is that such conversion is not one-and-done, not accomplished in an instant — but rather is a lifelong process. It is, as the Benedictine vow expresses it, a conversatio morum, a conversion of life to the end of one’s days.

Put a weight on a string and spin it overhead in a circle. At each point in its path the weight seeks to fly off in a straight line tangent to the circle and away from the circle’s center. It is only the constant tug of the string that keeps the weight in its proper orbit. That is a picture of conversion: Christ at the center, man circling but always seeking to fly off tangentially, and the tug of the “string” always pulling man back toward the center. What is the string? The Holy Spirit? Yes, certainly. Faith? Yes. The Church which offers the Word of God and the Sacraments? Yes. The spiritual disciplines of prayer and fasting and almsgiving? Yes. The cultivation of the virtues, especially the virtues of faith, hope and love? Yes. Repentance and confession? Yes. The string of conversion is rope of many cords.

Only let your manner of life be worthy of the gospel of Christ. This is a call to conversion.

Vocation

A man goes to the doctor to receive some potentially serious test results. The doctor enters the exam room, double checks the chart, smiles and says, “No need to worry. Everything came back normal. It seems you have many good years ahead of you.”

The man looks pensive, shakes his head slowly and says, “Well, don’t worry about it Doc; it’s not your fault. You’ve done your best.”

The doctor, now a bit flustered, says, “I don’t think you understand. You’re fine — perfectly healthy.”

“No, I get it,” the man says. “I was just sort of hoping that this was my time. I’m ready to go be with the Lord. That’s far better than living a long life here. But, if that’s not God’s will, I’ll accept it and get back to work. There is much to be done for the kingdom, you know.”

Can you imagine a conversation like that? St. Paul did not have to imagine it, nor do we. He was writing to the Philippians from prison, awaiting a verdict that might well mean his execution. He says:

19 for I know that through your prayers and the help of the Spirit of Jesus Christ this will turn out for my deliverance, 20 as it is my eager expectation and hope that I will not be at all ashamed, but that with full courage now as always Christ will be honored in my body, whether by life or by death. 21 For to me to live is Christ, and to die is gain. 22 If I am to live in the flesh, that means fruitful labor for me. Yet which I shall choose I cannot tell. 23 I am hard pressed between the two. My desire is to depart and be with Christ, for that is far better. 24 But to remain in the flesh is more necessary on your account. 25 Convinced of this, I know that I will remain and continue with you all, for your progress and joy in the faith, 26 so that in me you may have ample cause to glory in Christ Jesus, because of my coming to you again (Phil 1:19-26).

St. Paul tells the Philippians that they have just prayed too well for his deliverance and that the Lord has granted it. And, while he would rather depart to be with the Lord, Paul accepts that it is not yet his time, that, instead, he has fruitful labor yet to do for the sake of the kingdom and its people.

Only let your manner of life be worthy of the gospel of Christ. For St. Paul, that means vocation. It means going out into the world to do the work he had been given to do, to love and serve the Lord with thankful heart, not only with his lips but in his life.

“Well, that’s alright for St. Paul; he was an Apostle. But, I don’t have a vocation,” you may be thinking. “I’m just a [fill in the blank].” Not so. Every person baptized into Christ Jesus — no exceptions — has a vocation by virtue of baptism. While there are many ways to describe that vocation, here at Apostles you will often hear this: every baptized believer has the threefold vocation of priest, prophet, and king.

As priests, you are to bless, to sanctify, to make holy every hard moment, every dark place into which the Spirit leads you: by your presence, by your prayers, by your sacrifice of praise and thanksgiving, by your entering into the pain of the world with lament and hope and a cry for godly justice.

As prophets, you are to capture and cultivate God’s vision for God’s world and then to proclaim it in word and deed in every way possible. You are to be a living answer to the question: What would it look like if God were in charge here and now? You may be called to speak God’s truth — Jesus is Lord! — to the dark powers who still think and act as if they run this world, as if it is theirs. You may be called to show love to those whom this dark world has cast aside: the poor, the widows, the orphans, the refugees, the prisoners, the powerless, the mocked, the lonely, the forgotten, the dregs of society disdained by the rich, the powerful, the prideful.

As kings, you are to bring order and justice to those shadowy places where chaos and injustice abound. But not as the rulers of this world do: through intimidation and violence, through power and privilege, through ill-gotten money and the influence it purchases. No. Your model is the King who welcomed tax collectors and sinners, who knelt to wash feet, who reigned from a cross, who said to his disciples:

25 “You know that the rulers of the Gentiles lord it over them, and their great ones exercise authority over them. 26 It shall not be so among you. But whoever would be great among you must be your servant, 27 and whoever would be first among you must be your slave, 28 even as the Son of Man came not to be served but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many” (Matt 20:25b-28).

You have this vocation by virtue of your baptism: priest, prophet, king. And you also have lives: family, school, job, retirement. So, the question becomes: How do I exercise my baptismal vocation as priest, prophet, and king in my life as mother or teacher or scientist or plumber or manager or artist or administrator or retiree or caregiver or [fill in the blank of your own circumstances]? Only be certain of this: that you can and that it is God’s will that you do. There is no state of life in which you cannot offer a sacrifice of praise and thanksgiving. There is no circumstance in which you cannot promote order and champion justice. There is no place where you cannot serve.

Only let your manner of life be worthy of the gospel of Christ. This is a call to vocation.

Suffering

St. Paul specifically mentions one other characteristic of the manner of life worthy of the gospel of Christ. These are his words.

27 Only let your manner of life be worthy of the gospel of Christ, so that whether I come and see you or am absent, I may hear of you that you are standing firm in one spirit, with one mind striving side by side for the faith of the gospel, 28 and not frightened in anything by your opponents. This is a clear sign to them of their destruction, but of your salvation, and that from God. 29 For it has been granted to you that for the sake of Christ you should not only believe in him but also suffer for his sake, 30 engaged in the same conflict that you saw I had and now hear that I still have (Phil 1:27-30).

Only let your manner of life be worthy of the gospel of Christ. This is a call to suffering.

It is true to say that Christ died for us: true, provided we understand that “for” does not mean “instead of.” If Christ tarries, I will experience bodily death, as he did, as you will. To say that Christ died for us means that we now die in him, that our death is now united to his death, so that his victory over death becomes our victory over death. We will all die, but it has been granted to us to die in Christ.

It is true to say that Christ suffered for us: true, provided we understand that “for” does not mean “instead of.” To live at all is to suffer. The Buddhists are wrong about this: suffering is not illusion. It is real and we all must experience it sooner or later. But we — those who are in Christ Jesus — have been uniquely given the grace of suffering for him, with him, and in him. And that makes all the difference.

There is great mystery here; we are at the limits of understanding and language. But of this I am certain, though I have no good words to explain it or to persuade you. Just as Jesus’ own suffering was redemptive — brought life and reconciliation to the world — so our suffering for his sake, our suffering united with his, our suffering offered up to him, partakes of that redemption, becomes part of his redemptive work for the world. Surely, St. Paul had something like this in mind when he wrote this to the Colossians:

24 Now I rejoice in my sufferings for your sake, and in my flesh I am filling up what is lacking in Christ’s afflictions for the sake of his body, that is, the church (Col 1:24).

When Christ cried out on the cross, “It is finished!” he meant that his work was finished, not that the kingdom work was complete, not that there was nothing left to do. Just fifty days later, he poured out his Spirit upon his people at Pentecost to empower them for the gospel work left to do, for the gospel work he left them — and us — to do. And St. Paul insists that part of that gospel work is suffering for the sake of Christ, and that we should count that suffering as gift. Suffering, when united to Christ’s suffering, is purifying and perfecting; even Christ himself was made perfect through suffering (see Heb 2:10).

St. Paul does not call us to be masochists, to seek out unnecessary suffering. But, he does call us not to fear it. He calls us see it for what it is, to accept it for what it is or what it can be: an expression of God’s great love for us and for the world, a means of purification and witness, a gift that unites us to Christ.

Only let your manner of life be worthy of the gospel of Christ. This is a call to suffering.

Conclusion

I don’t think the final judgment will look much like Fulghum’s nightmare. But, if it does, I hope I am behind him in line and not behind Mother Teresa. A bit of buffer would be nice. Until that time comes though, we know our calling; St. Paul has made it clear.

Only let your manner of life be worthy of the gospel of Christ. That is a call to conversion, to vocation, to suffering. Amen.

Apostles Anglican Church
Fr. John A. Roop

Holy Cross Day (14 September)
(Is 45:21-25 / Ps 98 / Phil 2:5-11 / John 12:31-36a)

Collect
Almighty God, whose Son our Savior Jesus Christ was lifted high upon the cross that he might draw the whole world to himself: Mercifully grant that we, who glory in the mystery of our redemption, may have grace to take up our cross and follow him; who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, in glory everlasting. Amen.

Both here and in all your churches throughout the world,
we adore you, O Christ, and we bless you.
Because by your holy cross you have redeemed the world.

In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

The siege began on 14 April, in the year 70 AD. Four years earlier the Jews had rebelled against Rome, and Rome had finally had enough of that irritation. From that moment, Jerusalem was doomed. The siege lasted only four months, four difficult, horrible months for the Jews trapped in the city. The walls were breached in August, and by 8 September the Roman General Titus — soon to be Emperor — had razed the city and the temple. All was ruin and rubble.

Some sixty years later, circa 130, the Emperor Hadrian began to rebuild Jerusalem as a Roman city, Aelia Capitolina. This reconstruction altered the landscape of Jerusalem; many holy sites were lost — some covered with fill dirt and rubble, some buried under new construction — Calvary and the Holy Sepulchre among them.

Fast forward to the reign of Constantine (AD 306 – 337) who ended the formal Roman persecution against the Christians in 313 and declared Christianity a tolerated religion. Surely, Constantine had political motives for this, but his own conversion to the faith seems genuine, so that he may rightly be called the first Christian Emperor. He built churches and supported the clergy. He called the Council of Nicaea to deal with heresy and to define and unify the orthodox faith. And he turned his attention toward the holy city of Jerusalem.

The holy places in Jerusalem needed churches to mark them and to serve as sites for pilgrimage, so Constantine thought; he set about the task of locating those sites and building those churches. None were more important than Calvary and the Holy Sepulchre, sites lost during the building of Aelia Capitolina. Pious legend tells how Constantine awarded his devout Christian mother Helena the honorable task of locating those sites and directing the building of the churches. The early Church historian Eusebius wrote this about Helena:

Especially abundant were the gifts she bestowed on the naked and unprotected poor. To some she gave money, to others an ample supply of clothing; she liberated some from imprisonment, or from the bitter servitude of the mines; others she delivered from unjust oppression, and others again, she restored from exile. While, however, her character derived luster from such deeds … , she was far from neglecting personal piety toward God. She might be seen continually frequenting His Church, while at the same time she adorned the houses of prayer with splendid offerings, not overlooking the churches of the smallest cities. In short, this admirable woman was to be seen, in simple and modest attire, mingling with the crowd of worshipers, and testifying her devotion to God by a uniform course of pious conduct” (The Life of Constantine, XLIV, XLV).

The stories of how Helena located Calvary and the true cross of Christ are many and varied. I’ll mention just two that I like. While searching for Calvary, Helena noticed a large patch of an aromatic herb unknown to her. She felt compelled to dig in that spot and there she uncovered the wood from three separate crosses, those of the thieves and Jesus. As an aside, that herb is now named basil, from the Greek basileus meaning king. Many churches are decorated with basil plants in observance of Holy Cross Day.

So far, so good; Helena had discovered Calvary and wood from three crosses. But which one was the true cross of Christ? A woman suffering from a terminal illness was brought to the spot and asked to touch the wood from each of the crosses in turn. When she touched the wood of the last one, she was miraculously healed; that must be the true cross of Christ. And so began the veneration of the Holy Cross of our Lord Jesus. The church built on that site to house the cross was completed on 13 September 335 and formally dedicated the next day, 14 September, which we now observe as Holy Cross Day.

Holy Cross Day is an occasion to think deeply about the cross, to venerate it: not to worship it but to reverence it, to honor it as the instrument on which and through which the Lord Jesus triumphed over sin and death, trampling hell and Satan under his feet. This is a day perhaps to sit silently before the cross, to gaze at it in wonder, to sing its glory. In the church of my youth we had no custom of venerating the cross, but we did sing this:

On a hill far away stood an old rugged cross
The emblem of suffering and shame
And I love that old cross where the dearest and best
For a world of lost sinners was slain

So I’ll cherish the old rugged cross
Till my trophies at last I lay down
And I will cling to the old rugged cross
And exchange it some day for a crown (The Old Rugged Cross, The Rev’d George Bernard)

In the Anglican Church, as part of the Good Friday liturgy, we may observe Devotion Before the Cross. A covered wooden cross is brought into the church in the sight of the people. As it is uncovered, this antiphon is said or sung:

Behold the wood of the Cross, on which was hung the world’s Salvation.
O come, let us adore him.

Anthems follow:

We glory in your Cross, O Lord,
and praise and glorify your holy resurrection;
for by virtue of your Cross
joy has come to the whole world (Anthem 1, BCP 2019, p. 574).

We adore you, O Christ, and we bless you,
because by your holy Cross you have redeemed the world (BCP 2019, Anthem 2, p. 574).

Those who are not Christians are sometimes puzzled at our devotion to the cross. Why take a murder weapon and make it the symbol of the faith? Why venerate the cross? This is a good day to reflect on those questions.

The Roman Empire was certainly one of the world’s greatest civilizations, but, at its core, it was based upon violence — threatened and real — and upon power, brute force exercised by the government. Its military instilled fear and obedience. Its justice did likewise.

As an expression of its power and with the purpose of instilling fear, Rome devised the most brutal form of execution then known: crucifixion. Its purpose was not merely to physically torture and destroy the victim, but to publicly debase and humiliate the victim as a deterrent against similar crimes. Through the beatings, the forced march through town, the nailing of hands and feet, the stripping naked of the victim, the hours of agony suspended between heaven and earth, the mocking by the gathered crowds, Rome was declaring the victim to be sub-human, vermin, worthy only of being exterminated. All this came to Jesus not for anything he had done, not for any sin he had committed, but for us and for our salvation. He bore our sins on the cross in our stead. So the cross tells the great truth about us. Look at Jesus; this is what sin had done to us, what sin had reduced us to. That was our true state. When Pilate said, “Behold, the man,” he wasn’t just speaking about Jesus beaten, bloody, and shamed. He was speaking about mankind — about all of us and each of us — under the burden of sin. We sometimes wink and smile at sin: white lies, harmless infidelities, petty thefts, small betrayals, momentary anger — little things that everyone does. But the cross will not tolerate that self-deception. Look at Jesus on the cross. That is the result of your white lies, your harmless infidelities, and all the rest. That is what your sin has reduced you to. We venerate the cross because it confronts us with the damnable truth of our sin like nothing else can do.

But the cross also reveals to us the length, the depth, the breadth, and the height of God’s love for us in Christ Jesus, the willingness of God, in Christ, to sacrifice himself for us and for our salvation. The cross declares that those created in the image of God, though beaten, marched through town, stripped naked, nailed to a tree, mocked by evil powers through their own sins, are nevertheless the beloved of God in whose image they may be restored. We venerate the cross because it reveals to us the self-sacrificing, unfathomable love of God for us like nothing else can do.

There is no way to explain this, no words of human wisdom adequate for the mystery of the cross. There is only proclamation, adoration, veneration. As Paul writes:

1 Corinthians 1:18–21 (ESV): For the word of the cross is folly to those who are perishing, but to us who are being saved it is the power of God. 19 For it is written,

“I will destroy the wisdom of the wise,

and the discernment of the discerning I will thwart.”

20 Where is the one who is wise? Where is the scribe? Where is the debater of this age? Has not God made foolish the wisdom of the world? 21 For since, in the wisdom of God, the world did not know God through wisdom, it pleased God through the folly of what we preach to save those who believe.

1 Corinthians 2:1–2 (ESV): And I, when I came to you, brothers, did not come proclaiming to you the testimony of God with lofty speech or wisdom. 2 For I decided to know nothing among you except Jesus Christ and him crucified.

We venerate the cross because we worship Christ Jesus and him crucified.

Holy Cross Day also marks the beginning of the Fall Ember Days, the Wednesday, Friday, and Saturday following Holy Cross Day. These are days to fast and pray for those called to ordained ministry in the Church.

Almighty God, the giver of all good gifts, in your divine providence you have appointed various orders in your Church: Give your grace, we humbly pray, to all who are [now] called to any office and ministry for your people; and so fill them with the truth of your doctrine and clothe them with holiness of life, that they may faithfully serve before you, to the glory of your great Name and for the benefit of your holy Church; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you, in the unity of the Holy Spirit, one God, now and for ever. Amen (BCP 2019, p. 634).

Even as we pray for those in ordained ministry, we remember that the Church has four orders of ministry: the three ordained orders of bishop, priest, and deacon and the vastly larger and more fundamental order of the laity whose ministry is given in and through baptism. Along with the ordained orders, the laity share in the baptismal vocation of priests, prophets, and kings: priests who exercise a ministry of worship and reconciliation, prophets who have the vision of God’s truth and can say to the world “Thus says the Lord,” and kings who labor to bring God’s righteous rule to bear on earth as it is in heaven.

Why the close connection between Holy Cross Day and the Ember Days? Historically, it may simply be a matter of symmetry: one set of Ember Days in each of the four seasons corresponding to prominent feast days in the Church — Christmas, Lent, Pentecost and, yes, Holy Cross in the autumn. But, theologically? There is an intimate connection between the cross and Christian vocation. Vocation is, after all, nothing more or less than taking up the Cross of Christ and following him, nothing more or less than continuing/implementing the work begun on the Cross.

As another hymn from my childhood asked and answered:

Must Jesus bear the cross alone
And all the world go free?
No, there’s a cross for ev’ry one,
And there’s a cross for me (Must Jesus Bear the Cross Alone?, Thomas Shepherd).

Amen.

The Book of Signs: Chapter 5

Apostles Anglican Church
Fr. John A. Roop

The Gospel of John, Chapter 5: The Healing at Bethesda

The Lord be with you.
And with your spirit.
Let us pray.

Go before us, O Lord, in all our doings with your most gracious favor, and further us with your continual help; that in all our works begun, continued, and ended in you, we may glorify your holy Name, and finally, through your mercy, obtain everlasting life; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

Introduction

I have never been to the town of Lourdes in France. Millions have visited, making pilgrimages there since 1858 when the Blessed Virgin Mary appeared to Bernadette Soubirous and the miraculous healings began. Currently, it is estimated that some six million people descend on Lourdes annually, including sixty thousand sick or disabled persons seeking healing through taking the waters. There is a spring at Lourdes in the Grotto of Massabielle that purportedly has healing powers; in the original apparition the Blessed Virgin Mary instructed people to “drink at the spring and bathe in it.”

Some two hundred million people have visited Lourdes since 1858, many of whom came specifically for healing. Of that total, there have been roughly 7000 reported healings. For lovers of statistics, that is 0.0035 percent. Of those 7000 reported healings only 70 have been verified and certified by the Roman Catholic Church. One hundred seventy years, two hundred million pilgrims, seventy certified healings: not to be crass or irreverent, but your odds of being healed at Lourdes are only marginally better than those of winning the Power Ball Lottery. Still, people play the lottery, and still millions come to the waters at Lourdes, some for devotional intent only, but many with terminal diagnoses and many carried by friends, many praying for healing.

Belief in healing waters is nothing new. In fact, it is the basis for the third of Jesus’s signs recorded by St. John.

The Healing at the Pool on the Sabbath

Let’s read the account of the sign, the healing of a lame man.

1 After this there was a feast of the Jews, and Jesus went up to Jerusalem.

2 Now there is in Jerusalem by the Sheep Gate a pool, in Aramaic called Bethesda, which has five roofed colonnades. 3 In these lay a multitude of invalids—blind, lame, and paralyzed. 5 One man was there who had been an invalid for thirty-eight years. 6 When Jesus saw him lying there and knew that he had already been there a long time, he said to him, “Do you want to be healed?” 7 The sick man answered him, “Sir, I have no one to put me into the pool when the water is stirred up, and while I am going another steps down before me.” 8 Jesus said to him, “Get up, take up your bed, and walk.” 9 And at once the man was healed, and he took up his bed and walked (John 5:1-9a).

This sounds very Lourdes-like, doesn’t it, people coming to the water that has a reputation for healing powers. Some few manuscripts of St. John’s Gospel — not the oldest or most reliable ones — include an additional verse that explains the source of healing and the source of the particular dilemma faced by this lame man:

4 for an angel of the Lord went down at certain seasons into the pool, and stirred the water; whoever stepped in first after the stirring of the water was healed of whatever disease he had.

Whether we believe this explanation or not doesn’t matter; people came expecting or at least hoping for healing.

Notice the question Jesus asks: “Do you want to be healed?” What do you think about such a question? Is it rhetorical or actual inquiry? Why might Jesus ask it?

A healing will change this man’s life profoundly in ways that he is perhaps not ready for and maybe won’t like. I have tried to help a few homeless persons get off the street and into stable housing. The efforts have always been unsuccessful. They were either unwilling to take the few steps necessary to start the process — sometimes as simple as a phone call — or else psychologically unable to make themselves do so. It was and is a mystery to me, but change is hard, and I have never been in their state before so I have no cause to judge. Do you want to enter a rehab program? Do you want to get off the streets? Do you want to be healed? These aren’t unreasonable questions. And, the man doesn’t answer directly. He simply explains to Jesus why he is still disabled; he has no one to help him into the water.

It is not, after all, the water that he needs, but rather a word of healing from Jesus.

8 Jesus said to him, “Get up, take up your bed, and walk.” 9 And at once the man was healed, and he took up his bed and walked (John 5:8-9a).

Now, if we take this healing at face value as one of St. John’s seven signs, what is it a sign pointing to? What more do we know about Jesus or his mission through it? After all, we have seen Jesus heal before: the official’s son in John 4. What does this sign add?

Now, I must confess that I have cheated you a bit in my telling of the story. I have given you only the first part of verse 9 as if that concludes the account.

9 And at once the man was healed, and he took up his bed and walked (John 5:9a).

Stopping here implies that the physical healing is the sign. But, let’s hear the whole verse.

9 And at once the man was healed, and he took up his bed and walked. Now that day was the Sabbath (John 5:9).

Does that detail — that the healing took place on the Sabbath — change things, perhaps even change the nature of the sign? If you read the remainder of the chapter, the fact that the healing took place on the Sabbath is the only thing of importance to the Jewish authorities. They seem to take the actual healing with a grain of salt. But the Sabbath — that’s another matter entirely. So, I might suggest that we consider just the possibility that the timing of the healing, on the Sabbath, was the most important part of the sign. To explain that, I need to backtrack to John 2, to the cleansing of the temple.

What was the significance of the temple to the Jews? It was the focal point in space of the kingdom of God on earth as in heaven. It was where the glory of God resided or at least used to reside. It was the nexus of forgiveness and worship and prayer. It was the closest thing the Jews had to the kingdom of God in physical space. That is why it was so significant when Jesus cleansed the temple and called it his Father’s house. He was claiming authority over the kingdom of God in space.

What was the significance of the Sabbath? It was the focal point in time of the kingdom of God on earth as in heaven. It was the intersection of the age to come with this present age, a foretaste of that time when the world will be filled with the knowledge of the glory of God as the waters cover the sea. What the temple was in space, the Sabbath was in time. Now, keep in mind the earlier cleansing of the temple as you listen to the rest of this healing story play out.

Now that day was the Sabbath. 10 So the Jews said to the man who had been healed, “It is the Sabbath, and it is not lawful for you to take up your bed.” 11 But he answered them, “The man who healed me, that man said to me, ‘Take up your bed, and walk.’ ” 12 They asked him, “Who is the man who said to you, ‘Take up your bed and walk’?” 13 Now the man who had been healed did not know who it was, for Jesus had withdrawn, as there was a crowd in the place. 14 Afterward Jesus found him in the temple and said to him, “See, you are well! Sin no more, that nothing worse may happen to you.” 15 The man went away and told the Jews that it was Jesus who had healed him. 16 And this was why the Jews were persecuting Jesus, because he was doing these things on the Sabbath. 17 But Jesus answered them, “My Father is working until now, and I am working.”

18 This was why the Jews were seeking all the more to kill him, because not only was he breaking the Sabbath, but he was even calling God his own Father, making himself equal with God (John 5:9b-18).

When he cleansed the temple, Jesus identified it as his Father’s house. Here, when Jesus answers the charges of violating the Sabbath by saying, “My Father is working until now, and I am working,” he identifies the Sabbath as his Father’s time. Put both of these accounts together, and we have Jesus acting as God, laying claim to God’s kingdom in both space and time. Where Jesus is, when he is there, that is the in-breaking of the Kingdom of God. The Jewish authorities knew exactly what he was claiming, and they sought to kill him for his blasphemy. So, I think we need to take our cue from the Jewish authorities as we read this text: the sign is not merely the healing of a disabled man, but the timing of the healing: on the Sabbath.

Discourse: Part 1 — The Father’s Work Given To the Son

Now, following the sign, we have an extended discourse, Jesus speaking directly to the authorities.

Jesus defended his healing on the Sabbath by saying, “My Father is working until now, and I am working.” In this discourse he details some of the work of his Father that he is participating in. As we read the text, let’s identify that work, the mission the Father has given the Son.

19 So Jesus said to them, “Truly, truly, I say to you, the Son can do nothing of his own accord, but only what he sees the Father doing. For whatever the Father does, that the Son does likewise. 20 For the Father loves the Son and shows him all that he himself is doing. And greater works than these will he show him, so that you may marvel. 21 For as the Father raises the dead and gives them life, so also the Son gives life to whom he will. 22 For the Father judges no one, but has given all judgment to the Son, 23 that all may honor the Son, just as they honor the Father. Whoever does not honor the Son does not honor the Father who sent him. 24 Truly, truly, I say to you, whoever hears my word and believes him who sent me has eternal life. He does not come into judgment, but has passed from death to life.

25 “Truly, truly, I say to you, an hour is coming, and is now here, when the dead will hear the voice of the Son of God, and those who hear will live. 26 For as the Father has life in himself, so he has granted the Son also to have life in himself. 27 And he has given him authority to execute judgment, because he is the Son of Man. 28 Do not marvel at this, for an hour is coming when all who are in the tombs will hear his voice 29 and come out, those who have done good to the resurrection of life, and those who have done evil to the resurrection of judgment (John 5:19-29).

What is the work the Father has given the Son?

Giving Life: As the Father raises the dead and gives them life, so also the Son gives life to whom he will (John 5:21). This takes us back to St. John’s Prologue:

1 In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. 2 He was in the beginning with God. 3 All things were made through him, and without him was not any thing made that was made. 4 In him was life, and the life was the light of men. 5 The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it (John 1:1-5).

This also takes us back to Jesus’ conversation with Nicodemus:

16 “For God so loved the world, that he gave his only Son, that whoever believes in him should not perish but have eternal life. 17 For God did not send his Son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved through him. 18 Whoever believes in him is not condemned, but whoever does not believe is condemned already, because he has not believed in the name of the only Son of God. 19 And this is the judgment: the light has come into the world, and people loved the darkness rather than the light because their works were evil. 20 For everyone who does wicked things hates the light and does not come to the light, lest his works should be exposed. 21 But whoever does what is true comes to the light, so that it may be clearly seen that his works have been carried out in God” (John 3:16-21).

In this passage, Jesus mentions both life and judgment. He came to bring life, not to judge. But, let’s return to our passage in John 5 to see what Jesus says about that.

Bringing Judgment: 22 For the Father judges no one, but has given all judgment to the Son, 23 that all may honor the Son, just as they honor the Father. Whoever does not honor the Son does not honor the Father who sent him. 24 Truly, truly, I say to you, whoever hears my word and believes him who sent me has eternal life. He does not come into judgment, but has passed from death to life (John 5:22-24).

Judgment is part of the work the Father has given to the Son. But, it seems to be a rather “passive” sort of judgment. By that I mean that Jesus’ purpose — his mission — is not judgment/condemnation but rather life. He comes offering life for all who will accept it. Those who refuse life, those who will not believe, embrace death instead by their own choice. In doing so, they judge/condemn themselves. Jesus’ very presence engenders differentiation, not so much through Jesus’ judgment of us, but through our own judgement of him. Again, St. John’s Prologue pointed toward this:

9 The true light, which gives light to everyone, was coming into the world. 10 He was in the world, and the world was made through him, yet the world did not know him. 11 He came to his own, and his own people did not receive him. 12 But to all who did receive him, who believed in his name, he gave the right to become children of God, 13 who were born, not of blood nor of the will of the flesh nor of the will of man, but of God (John 1:9-13).

Defeating Death: If we read Genesis 3-11 carefully, we will notice not just one fall of man, but at least three — Adam and Eve, Cain, and the builders of Babel — with distinct consequences: death, bondage to sin, enslavement to the fallen powers. The power of death and corruption has spread to all creation; see Romans 8 and 1 Corinthians 15. Jesus assures us in this discourse that the last enemy, death, will one day be destroyed; that is part of the work his Father has given him to do.

26 For as the Father has life in himself, so he has granted the Son also to have life in himself. 27 And he has given him authority to execute judgment, because he is the Son of Man. 28 Do not marvel at this, for an hour is coming when all who are in the tombs will hear his voice 29 and come out, those who have done good to the resurrection of life, and those who have done evil to the resurrection of judgment (John 5:26-29).

Resurrection and life is the telos — the end/goal — of all people, the righteous and the unrighteous alike; not one person will be left in the tombs because Jesus has come to destroy death. His own resurrection is the firstfruits of that victory, a sign pointing toward the complete destruction of death to come.

We have a canticle that we sing at Morning Prayer in Eastertide that captures this victory over death beautifully: the Pascha Nostrum (Christ Our Passover).

Pascha Nostrum (Christ Our Passover)

Alleluia. Christ our Passover has been sacrificed for us; *
therefore let us keep the feast,
Not with the old leaven, the leaven of malice and evil, *
but with the unleavened bread of sincerity and truth. Alleluia.

Christ being raised from the dead will never die again; *
death no longer has dominion over him.
The death that he died, he died to sin, once for all; *
but the life he lives, he lives to God.
So also consider yourselves dead to sin, *
and alive to God in Jesus Christ our Lord. Alleluia.

Christ has been raised from the dead, *
the firstfruits of those who have fallen asleep.
For since by a man came death, *
by a man has come also the resurrection of the dead.
For as in Adam all die, *
so also in Christ shall all be made alive. Alleluia.

Giving life, bringing judgment, and defeating death: this is the work the Father has given the Son to do, and he is doing that work even on — and perhaps especially on — the Sabbath, the focal point in time of the in-breaking of the Kingdom of God.

Discourse: Part 2 — Witnesses To the Son

When we consider the seven signs in St. John’s Gospel, we generally focus on those things that Jesus did to inaugurate the Kingdom and to establish his identity and authority. But, there are other signs as well; Jesus calls them witnesses that bear testimony to him, reasons that the people and the authorities should believe. Jesus details several of these witnesses in the final part of this discourse. Let’s scan the text to see if we can identify the witnesses.

30 “I can do nothing on my own. As I hear, I judge, and my judgment is just, because I seek not my own will but the will of him who sent me. 31 If I alone bear witness about myself, my testimony is not true. 32 There is another who bears witness about me, and I know that the testimony that he bears about me is true. 33 You sent to John, and he has borne witness to the truth. 34 Not that the testimony that I receive is from man, but I say these things so that you may be saved. 35 He was a burning and shining lamp, and you were willing to rejoice for a while in his light. 36 But the testimony that I have is greater than that of John. For the works that the Father has given me to accomplish, the very works that I am doing, bear witness about me that the Father has sent me. 37 And the Father who sent me has himself borne witness about me. His voice you have never heard, his form you have never seen, 38 and you do not have his word abiding in you, for you do not believe the one whom he has sent. 39 You search the Scriptures because you think that in them you have eternal life; and it is they that bear witness about me, 40 yet you refuse to come to me that you may have life. 41 I do not receive glory from people. 42 But I know that you do not have the love of God within you. 43 I have come in my Father’s name, and you do not receive me. If another comes in his own name, you will receive him. 44 How can you believe, when you receive glory from one another and do not seek the glory that comes from the only God? 45 Do not think that I will accuse you to the Father. There is one who accuses you: Moses, on whom you have set your hope. 46 For if you believed Moses, you would believe me; for he wrote of me. 47 But if you do not believe his writings, how will you believe my words” (John 5:30-47)?

Jesus identifies these witnesses: John the Baptist, the works that Jesus does, the Father, the Scriptures (Moses and his writings).

John the Baptist: Again, we find this in the Prologue and throughout the first chapter of the Gospel.

6 There was a man sent from God, whose name was John. 7He came as a witness, to bear witness about the light, that all might believe through him. 8 He was not the light, but came to bear witness about the light (John 1:6-8).

What was John’s testimony to Jesus? “Behold, the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world” (John 1:29)! We know that the people considered John a prophet; the heart of his prophecy was pointing toward Jesus, decreasing himself that Jesus might increase.

The Works: Do you remember what Nicodemus, a teacher of the Jews, first said when he came to see Jesus?

1 Now there was a man of the Pharisees named Nicodemus, a ruler of the Jews. 2 This man came to Jesus by night and said to him, “Rabbi, we know that you are a teacher come from God, for no one can do these signs that you do unless God is with him” (John 3:1-2).

If, as Fr. Jack mentioned in his class on John 3, Nicodemus was not coming solely of his own volition, but rather as a representative of the Sanhedrin, then these authorities were acknowledging the works that Jesus was doing, even if grudgingly. So, the works bore witness to Jesus.

The Father
How did the Father bear witness to Jesus? Though it is not found in St. John’s Gospel, we have this from St. Luke, an event that would still be in many people’s memory:

21 Now when all the people were baptized, and when Jesus also had been baptized and was praying, the heavens were opened, 22 and the Holy Spirit descended on him in bodily form, like a dove; and a voice came from heaven, “You are my beloved Son; with you I am well pleased” (Luke 3:21-22).

The Scripture/Moses

39 You search the Scriptures because you think that in them you have eternal life; and it is they that bear witness about me, 40 yet you refuse to come to me that you may have life (John 5:39-40).

46 For if you believed Moses, you would believe me; for he wrote of me. 47 But if you do not believe his writings, how will you believe my words” (John 5:46-47)?

These Scriptures remind me of two others, both from St. Luke’s Gospel, one a parable and one a post-resurrection appearance.

Do you remember Abraham’s response when the rich man begged him to send Lazarus to his brothers so that they might escape his fate?

29 But Abraham said, ‘They have Moses and the Prophets; let them hear them.’ 30 And he said, ‘No, father Abraham, but if someone goes to them from the dead, they will repent.’ 31 He said to him, ‘If they do not hear Moses and the Prophets, neither will they be convinced if someone should rise from the dead’ ” (Luke 16:29-31).

Moses, rightly understood and rightly believed was the only witness the Jews needed to Jesus.

And then there is Jesus’ appearance to the disciples on the road to Emmaus.

27 And beginning with Moses and all the Prophets, he interpreted to them in all the Scriptures the things concerning himself (Luke 24:27).

It is all there in Moses and in the Scriptures for those who have the eyes and heart and will to see and to believe.

So, there are the signs that Jesus does — the seven that St. John gives us — and then then are the signs, or witnesses, that point toward Jesus: John the Baptist, the works of the Father, the Father himself, and Moses and the Scriptures. These are sufficient for anyone, especially for the Jewish authorities. And yet there is this sad commentary: “yet you refuse to come to me that you may have life” (see John 5:40). And that, too, is precisely what St. John noted in his Prologue: He came to his own, and his own people did not receive him (John 1:11).

Discussion

I would like us to close our time together with a further consideration of the witnesses to Jesus, the signs that point toward him. In particular, I’d like you to discuss these questionable with your table groups:

What would it look like for the Church to bear credible witness to Jesus today, to be a sign to the world of the Lordship of Jesus and of the in-breaking of the Kingdom of God?

What would we have to start doing, or at least start doing better?

What would we have to stop doing?

What tangible steps can we — you, Apostles — make toward that?

The Verble app offered to write my sermon — with my theology, my translation, my voice — and to prepare slides. I simply had to answer a few prompt questions and the homiletical AI assistant could complete all this between verses one and two of the sequence hymn. Until that offer, I had never intentionally interacted with AI. I have no idea how to query ChatGPT or Grok or any other AI assistant. But that very day I had just finished work on my own sermon — a difficult piece of work — and I suppose I was both tired and curious. So, I answered Verble’s prompts about a desired sermon: Philippians 1, ESV, 20-30 minutes, challenging, theme idea/verse, and a few other bits of information. I pressed the button. Verble generated a sermon in seconds. Was it good? It wasn’t bad; I’ve read worse. Some might argue that I’ve written worse.

Now, understand, I did this as a test only with no intent to use or even to draw from the AI sermon. What I have written, I have written. Our bishop has, very wisely in my assessment, forbidden use of AI for writing sermons. Even so I felt a bit sullied, like I needed to take a bath or go to confession.

That was Friday, I think, and I have been pondering the matter since. Writing this post is part of that pondering, a thinking “out loud” on digital paper. Much is demanded of a priest; this is not a complaint, just a reality. In any given week a priest might offer pastoral care or spiritual direction to several parishioners, make hospital visits to others, prepare lessons, meet with staff or budget committee or vestry, deal with building maintenance issues, perform house blessings, offer last rites, and tend to countless other important matters. In the midst of that, he finds time for prayer and study and lectio. “Finds time” is wrong but sometimes true. If a priest — or anyone else — does not make these disciplines primary and set aside sacrosanct time for them, they will inevitably be crowded out by things that are less important but more urgent. Oh, yes, I had almost forgotten. Most priests have families — Anglican priests, that is — that they must, and long to, spend time with. And then, relentlessly, there is the sermon. Imagine a week where many of these legitimate needs collide. Imagine it is Friday night when the priest realizes he has not seriously begun work on his sermon. What would be wrong, in such an extreme situation, with using AI to (at least / at most) draft a sermon? Much, I think, in every way.

Though many protestants tremble at the T-word — Tradition — ours is inescapably a traditioned faith. What we have received from others, we make our own, and we pass on to others. We have that from St. Paul:

1 Now I would remind you, brothers, of the gospel I preached to you, which you received, in which you stand, 2 and by which you are being saved, if you hold fast to the word I preached to you — unless you believed in vain.

3 For I delivered to you as of first importance what I also received: that Christ died for our sins in accordance with the Scriptures, 4 that he was buried, that he was raised on the third day in accordance with the Scriptures, 5 and that he appeared to Cephas, then to the twelve (1 Cor 15:1-3).

Delivered, received, preached: that is the traditioning of our faith. It is this process of traditioning that renders AI incompatible with preaching or catechesis or pastoral care or — Lord, have mercy — prayer and confession. What is delivered, received, and passed on is not mere information. The traditioning of faith that made me a priest and consecrated me to preach included study — much study, yes — and careful examination, but also the laying on of hands by a successor of the Apostles, his prayer of blessing and consecration, anointing with oil, epiclesis and the outpouring of the Holy Spirit for the office and work of a Priest. Here is the very prayer that was offered:

Receive the Holy Spirit for the office and work of a Priest in the Church of God, now committed to you by the imposition of our hands. If you forgive the sins of anyone, they are forgiven. If you withhold forgiveness from anyone, it is withheld. Be a faithful minister of God’s holy Word and Sacraments; in the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit (Book of Common Prayer 2019, p. 493).

This is the way faith is delivered, received, and, yes, preached. Verble cannot tradition the faith in this way. What bishop imposed hands on it? Is that even possible? When was it anointed? Is it filled with the Holy Spirit for any office or work? Even to think this way is to commit a category mistake.

There is something iconic in this traditioning. An icon does not primarily seek to convey information about its subject. The icon draws one into the tradition by ushering one into the presence of Christ as revealed in the life of its subject. It can do so, in part, because it was written in keeping with the tradition, by one who was immersed in repentance, in prayer, in fasting, in submission to the great tradition. It is Spirit and truth that the icon manifests. And that is precisely what AI cannot do. It is Spirit and truth that a sermon must manifest. AI cannot pass on what it has not received.

The Book of Signs: Chapter 4

Apostles Anglican Church
Fr. John A. Roop

The Gospel of John, Chapter 4: The Samaritan Woman and the Official’s Son

The Lord be with you.
And with your spirit.
Let us pray.

KONTAKION OF ST. PHOTINI (Adapted)

Almighty Savior who poured forth water for the Hebrews from a solid rock: You came to the land of Samaria and addressed a women whom you attracted to faith in you, and she has now attained life in the heavens everlastingly. Grant that, with her, your Spirit may be unto us living water that wells up to eternal life. Amen.

Foreword

The book of signs, John 2-12, contains more than just the seven works of Jesus that uniquely fulfill the purpose of John’s gospel:

30 Now Jesus did many other signs in the presence of the disciples, which are not written in this book; 31 but these are written so that you may believe that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God, and that by believing you may have life in his name (John 20:30-31).

As Fr. Jack mentioned last week there is often a literary pattern in St. John’s narrative:

Jesus Event: An action or sign

Symbol: A central image associated with the sign that encodes its meaning

Teaching: An explanation of the sign and symbol

So, in addition to the signs that are central to John’s purpose, we have discourses, extended sections of teaching and explanation. And there are discussions, dialogues between Jesus and hosts of different people. All three of these — signs, discourses, dialogues — work together to generate belief. Jesus does something, then he explains it either by teaching or by conversation. Or, perhaps the conversation comes first followed by a sign that challenges people to respond in a certain way. The order is variable.

In the text today, we encounter both an extended dialogue — with the Samaritan woman — and a sign, the healing of an official’s son.

Background

You can’t fully understand the racial dynamics and tensions in our nation or the mutual suspicions and even antipathy between the northern states and the southern states without some knowledge of history: the institution of slavery, the Civil War and the Emancipation Proclamation, Reconstruction, Jim Crow and the KKK, Martin Luther King and the Civil Rights Movement, Affirmative Action and DEI and the recent pushback against those programs. Likewise, we won’t fully understand the dynamics of John 4, Jesus’ encounter with the Samaritan woman, without some knowledge of the history of Israel and Judah around the time of their exiles, and, in Judah’s case, its repatriation.

2 Kings 17 describes the fall of the northern kingdom of Israel, which is identified with its capital Samaria. The last king of Israel, Hoshea, acted treacherously against Shalmaneser king of Assyria; he refused to pay the required tribute and he attempted to make a political and military alliance with Egypt to escape Assyria’s demands. As a result:

5 Then the king of Assyria invaded all the land and came to Samaria, and for three years he besieged it.

6 In the ninth year of Hoshea, the king of Assyria captured Samaria, and he carried the Israelites away to Assyria and placed them in Halah, and on the Habor, the river of Gozan, and in the cities of the Medes (2 Ki 17:5-6).

This left the land of Samaria largely empty and non-productive for Assyria; probably only the elderly and infirm Israelites were left behind. So, the king of Assyria populated Samaria with other captured peoples from other lands to work this land and to pay tribute: people from Babylon, Cuthah, Avva, Hamath, and Sepharvaim. These people brought their customs and their foreign gods with them into the land of Israel. Here is how the situation is described in 2 Kings 17.

25 And at the beginning of their dwelling there, they did not fear the Lord. Therefore the Lord sent lions among them, which killed some of them. 26 So the king of Assyria was told, “The nations that you have carried away and placed in the cities of Samaria do not know the law of the god of the land. Therefore he has sent lions among them, and behold, they are killing them, because they do not know the law of the god of the land.” 27 Then the king of Assyria commanded, “Send there one of the priests whom you carried away from there, and let him go and dwell there and teach them the law of the god of the land.” 28 So one of the priests whom they had carried away from Samaria came and lived in Bethel and taught them how they should fear the Lord.

29 But every nation still made gods of its own and put them in the shrines of the high places that the Samaritans had made, every nation in the cities in which they lived. 30 The men of Babylon made Succoth-benoth, the men of Cuth made Nergal, the men of Hamath made Ashima, 31 and the Avvites made Nibhaz and Tartak; and the Sepharvites burned their children in the fire to Adrammelech and Anammelech, the gods of Sepharvaim. 32 They also feared the Lord and appointed from among themselves all sorts of people as priests of the high places, who sacrificed for them in the shrines of the high places. 33 So they feared the Lord but also served their own gods, after the manner of the nations from among whom they had been carried away.

34 To this day they do according to the former manner. They do not fear the Lord, and they do not follow the statutes or the rules or the law or the commandment that the Lord commanded the children of Jacob, whom he named Israel (2 Ki 17:25-34).

This is the origin story of the Samaritans: pagans who feared the Lord, but who did not worship him exclusively or purely, people in the land but not of the land. That’s one strike against them.

Nearly two centuries later, when the Judeans, the remnant of the southern kingdom, were allowed to return to rebuild Jerusalem following their Babylonian captivity, the Samaritans offered to assist in rebuilding the temple. This is how Ezra records it:

4 Now when the adversaries of Judah and Benjamin heard that the returned exiles were building a temple to the Lord, the God of Israel, 2 they approached Zerubbabel and the heads of fathers’ houses and said to them, “Let us build with you, for we worship your God as you do, and we have been sacrificing to him ever since the days of Esarhaddon king of Assyria who brought us here.” 3 But Zerubbabel, Jeshua, and the rest of the heads of fathers’ houses in Israel said to them, “You have nothing to do with us in building a house to our God; but we alone will build to the Lord, the God of Israel, as King Cyrus the king of Persia has commanded us.”

4 Then the people of the land discouraged the people of Judah and made them afraid to build 5 and bribed counselors against them to frustrate their purpose, all the days of Cyrus king of Persia, even until the reign of Darius king of Persia (Ezra 4:1-5).

Through intermarriage and adoption of some Israelite customs, the Samaritans considered themselves as children of Abraham, as worshippers of the one true God. The Judeans thought of them as gentile pagans. The rejection of the Samaritans’ offer of assistance became a point of conflict; Jewish scorn produced Samaritan opposition. This opposition to the Judeans was the second strike against the Samaritans. Memory is long in the Middle East. So, grudges were held five centuries later, in the time of Jesus. There was ongoing tension between the Judeans — the Jews — and the Samaritans. That doesn’t mean that there was no interaction between the two groups; there was, in fact. Geographically, Samaria lay between Galilee in the north and Jerusalem in the South so that Jews going from one region to another needed to pass through Samaria and probably overnight there or else add days to their journey using a longer, alternate route that bypassed Samaria. The Pharisees did not consider Samaria or its people inherently unclean. They could eat Samaritan food, for example, but they had to use their own vessels — plates, cups — to do so. It’s fair to say that the Jews and Samaritans eyed one another with a certain disdain and suspicion, if not hostility. But, they made do with one another as necessary.

Jesus was a Jew and, humanly speaking, he was formed by his culture. I don’t believe he was limited by cultural prejudice, but he knew of it. Certainly his disciples were products of that culture and they did exhibit its values for good and ill. That emerges in the well known text today, Jesus’ encounter with the Samaritan woman.

Jesus and the Woman of Samaria (John 4:1-45)

While ministering in Judea, Jesus begins attracting some unwanted attention from the Pharisees, and he decides to return to Galilee for awhile. He and his disciples take the short route through Samaria. They reach the town of Sychar around noon where Jesus stops at the town well — Jacob’s Well — while the disciples go off to buy food.

Jesus is weary from the journey, an interesting details in the text that emphasizes the true humanity of Jesus — not God in disguise as a man, but God truly incarnate. While he is resting beside the well, a woman of Samaria arrives to draw water. It is not the usual time of day to do that, so she appears to be alone as is Jesus. That already builds a bit of tension into the story. Jewish men were not to be alone with women other than their wives nor speak to them, and here we have a Jewish man and a Samaritan woman alone together. There are all kinds of social taboos at work here, and all of them broken when Jesus asks her for a drink.

7 A woman from Samaria came to draw water. Jesus said to her, “Give me a drink.” 8 (For his disciples had gone away into the city to buy food.) 9 The Samaritan woman said to him, “How is it that you, a Jew, ask for a drink from me, a woman of Samaria?” (For Jews have no dealings with Samaritans.) 10 Jesus answered her, “If you knew the gift of God, and who it is that is saying to you, ‘Give me a drink,’ you would have asked him, and he would have given you living water.” 11 The woman said to him, “Sir, you have nothing to draw water with, and the well is deep. Where do you get that living water? 12 Are you greater than our father Jacob? He gave us the well and drank from it himself, as did his sons and his livestock.” 13 Jesus said to her, “Everyone who drinks of this water will be thirsty again, 14 but whoever drinks of the water that I will give him will never be thirsty again. The water that I will give him will become in him a spring of water welling up to eternal life.” 15 The woman said to him, “Sir, give me this water, so that I will not be thirsty or have to come here to draw water” (John 4:7-15).

To say the least, the woman is surprised by Jesus’ request: he shouldn’t be talking to her in the first place, and, by tradition, he couldn’t accept a drink from her — using her vessels — even if she offered him one. The discussion that follows resembles Jesus’ earlier discussion with Nicodemus. It takes place on two different levels with the Samaritan woman speaking of physical matters while Jesus is getting at things of the Spirit. It’s as if she is playing checkers while he’s responding with chess moves.

You should be asking me for water — living water, Jesus says. She replies with the obvious: You have nothing to draw water with, and there is no living water — running water from a spring — around here anyway — just this well.

I don’t know the proper tone of voice to use when reading the rest of the conversation. Was Jesus being playful? Was the woman serious or perhaps a bit sarcastic?

So, you think you’re greater than Jacob and your water better than his? she asks.

Well, if you get water from Jacobs’s well, you’re going to have to come back here tomorrow and do it again. I can quench your thirst forever. The living water that I can give will become a perpetual spring of living water in you.

I read a book in 2006 about a group of free church evangelicals who converted to Orthodoxy. I think about that book, and particularly its title, whenever I read this conversation: Thirsting for God in a Land of Shallow Wells. That describes very well what is going on here. This woman, though she doesn’t seem to know it, is thirsting for God and not just for water. And while Jacob’s well is sufficient to quench her bodily thirst, it is far too shallow — her entire life is too shallow — to satisfy her spiritually. That requires the living water — the Holy Spirit — that only Jesus can provide.

So, she asks for this living water:

15 The woman said to him, “Sir, give me this water, so that I will not be thirsty or have to come here to draw water” (John 4:15).

Again, I have trouble reading the proper tone of voice here. The following dialogue makes two things clear: this is an intelligent woman — so it seems unlikely that she thinks Jesus is really talking about well water or spring water — and this is a woman who has reasons to be suspicious of men — five husbands and a current illicit relationship. So, what in the world is this Jew babbling about and why should she trust him anyway? So, I can just about hear some sarcasm in her voice: Yeah, right, then give me this water so I can stop trudging to this well every day. But, perhaps there is some hope there, too: I don’t really know exactly what you’re talking about, but I am deeply thirsty, so give me whatever it is you are offering.

Now, Jesus seems to change the topic abruptly: “Go, call your husband, and come here.” Why might Jesus do that?

He is moving the conversation into deeply personal territory. He’s gone from preaching to meddling. Five husbands, and now a sixth man who is not husband. I know your life. I know the brokenness of it, the emptiness of it. I know the depth of your real thirst. That is what I am offering to quench.

This is too close to home for the woman, too raw, and she changes the subject to theology.

19 The woman said to him, “Sir, I perceive that you are a prophet. 20 Our fathers worshiped on this mountain, but you say that in Jerusalem is the place where people ought to worship.” 21 Jesus said to her, “Woman, believe me, the hour is coming when neither on this mountain nor in Jerusalem will you worship the Father. 22 You worship what you do not know; we worship what we know, for salvation is from the Jews. 23 But the hour is coming, and is now here, when the true worshipers will worship the Father in spirit and truth, for the Father is seeking such people to worship him. 24 God is spirit, and those who worship him must worship in spirit and truth.” 25 The woman said to him, “I know that Messiah is coming (he who is called Christ). When he comes, he will tell us all things.” 26 Jesus said to her, “I who speak to you am he” (John 4:19-26).

So, let’s talk theology, the woman says. We Samaritans worship on Mt. Gerazim but you Jews worship on Mt. Zion. What do you say about that?

Well, salvation is from the Jews and not from the Samaritans, but in forty years location is not going to matter anyway. The Romans will destroy the Temple in Jerusalem. What is important is not so much where we worship but how we worship, not geography, but Spirit and truth. And that — Spirit and not well water — is what Jesus is offering her.

She seems to dismiss Jesus’ response, to wave it off. Well, we’ll never sort this out between us, but, when Messiah comes, he will make it all clear.

There is scholarly debate about what Jesus claimed for himself in the Gospels, about his self-identification. But this much is clear: in response to this woman, Jesus claims unambiguously that he is the Messiah, the one through whom God will fulfill all the covenant promises to renew Israel and to bless all the world through Israel. He is the one in whom all God’s promises are answered yes. This is enough for the woman. She leaves her water jar and heads into town as an evangelist: “Come, see a man who told me all that I ever did. Can this be the Christ?” And the whole town came, and many believed that Jesus was the Savior of the world. He stayed with them for two more days before resuming his journey to Jerusalem.

So far, the disciples have been largely absent from the story. Now, they return from buying food just in time to catch the end of the conversation between Jesus and the woman. They are surprised by it, but they don’t bring it up. Instead, they turn to mundane matters: Here, Jesus, eat some lunch. His initial response — I have food that you do not know about — is confusing to them, so he explains after a fashion.

34 Jesus said to them, “My food is to do the will of him who sent me and to accomplish his work. 35 Do you not say, ‘There are yet four months, then comes the harvest’? Look, I tell you, lift up your eyes, and see that the fields are white for harvest. 36 Already the one who reaps is receiving wages and gathering fruit for eternal life, so that sower and reaper may rejoice together. 37 For here the saying holds true, ‘One sows and another reaps.’ 38 I sent you to reap that for which you did not labor. Others have labored, and you have entered into their labor” (John 4:34-38).

John is a subtle writer. While the synoptic evangelists — Matthew, Mark, and Luke — approach things head on, John comes at the same matters at an angle. For example, John does not include the institution of the Lord’s Supper directly as the synoptic writers do; instead, he has the great Bread of Life discourse in John 6: Unless you eat my flesh and drink my blood you have no life in you. That is the way John approaches the Eucharist. And, John does not include the Parable of the Sower as the others do. But notice how the same ideas emerge here. Look around here in Samaria. A sower has sown good seed and it has landed on good ground and borne fruit — thirty, sixty, a hundred fold. And it is now ready for harvest. That will be your job. Who would have thought the good ground would be in Samaria? Certainly not the disciples. But those reading John’s gospel careful shouldn’t be surprised; there were hints from the beginning, from the Prologue:

9 The true light, which gives light to everyone, was coming into the world. 10 He was in the world, and the world was made through him, yet the world did not know him. 11 He came to his own, and his own people did not receive him. 12 But to all who did receive him, who believed in his name, he gave the right to become children of God, 13 who were born, not of blood nor of the will of the flesh nor of the will of man, but of God (John 1:9-13).

That’s the account of the Samaritan woman. Now, just a few observations.

First, we are only in chapter four of the Gospel, and already water has figured as a major symbol of Jesus’ ministry four times, once in each chapter: the water of John’s baptism, which sets the tone for everything else; the water turned to wine at Cana; the water and Spirit of new birth that Jesus announces to Nicodemus; and the well water and living water in the conversation with the Samaritan woman. Baptism is the through-line of the symbol: baptism and the indwelling of the Holy Spirit.

Second this: there are at least three times in his gospel when John presents women as evangelists. The first is Mary at the wedding in Cana; she gives a great evangelistic message to the servants: Do whatever he tells you. The last is Mary Magdalene when Jesus sends her to tell the brothers (the Apostles) the news of the resurrection and of his coming ascension. The middle account is here, when the Samaritan woman tells the entire town of Sychar what she has seen and heard from Jesus. She sows the word among her people and a great harvest ensues.

Third: the Holy Spirit is always at work sowing the seed of the Gospel, sometimes in places that are quite surprising to us. Our task is to look out over the fields to see which ones are ready for harvest and then to get busy reaping what has grown there.

Fourth: no one is excluded from the Gospel — not a woman with a disturbing past and questionable sexual morals, not a people that we might deem as somehow unworthy of the Gospel or of our acceptance.

Now, we turn to the sign in this chapter, the second of those recorded by John, the healing of the official’s son.

Jesus Heals an Official’s Son

The account is short enough that we can read it.

46 So he came again to Cana in Galilee, where he had made the water wine. And at Capernaum there was an official whose son was ill. 47 When this man heard that Jesus had come from Judea to Galilee, he went to him and asked him to come down and heal his son, for he was at the point of death. 48 So Jesus said to him, “Unless you see signs and wonders you will not believe.” 49 The official said to him, “Sir, come down before my child dies.” 50 Jesus said to him, “Go; your son will live.” The man believed the word that Jesus spoke to him and went on his way. 51 As he was going down, his servants met him and told him that his son was recovering. 52 So he asked them the hour when he began to get better, and they said to him, “Yesterday at the seventh hour the fever left him.” 53 The father knew that was the hour when Jesus had said to him, “Your son will live.” And he himself believed, and all his household. 54 This was now the second sign that Jesus did when he had come from Judea to Galilee (John 4:46-54).

We noted earlier how John often has his own take on events recorded by the synoptic Gospels. This account may well be John’s telling of the healing of the Centurion’s servant (see Matt 8:5-13).

This is a story of life and death: the child is ill and at the point of death. Unless Jesus intervenes, the child will die. The official has heard of Jesus as a healer and learns that he is near. It isn’t likely that the official is interested in theology at all. Whether Jesus is the Messiah — and whether the official even knew what a messiah was — probably didn’t enter into the picture at all. The official is desperate and has nothing to lose — except pride, perhaps — asking Jesus for help.

In what follows, I am grateful to Lesslie Newbigin for these insights from his commentary on John, The Light Has Come. After the official’s first appeal Jesus seems dismissive. The text is interesting here. Jesus speaks to the official, but he speaks in the plural; so, Jesus is really speaking to all the people through his response to the official.

48 So Jesus said to him, “Unless you (plural) see signs and wonders you will not believe” (John 4:48).

This implies that their belief is conditional; it is on their own terms. Do us some signs, then we might believe. Notice how St. John turns this around to make an essential point for his own readers.

49 The official said to him, “Sir, come down before my child dies.” 50 Jesus said to him, “Go; your son will live.” The man believed the word that Jesus spoke to him and went on his way (John 4:49-50).

Here is the key: the official believed — and acted on — the word that Jesus spoke to him without having yet seen any sign. Later, when he learned that the child was healed in the same hour that Jesus pronounced the word, the official’s own belief was deepened and his household came to believe. But, it all started with the official believing Jesus’ word: with hearing, not with seeing.

Why is this important? John tells us near the conclusion of his Gospel.

24 Now Thomas, one of the twelve, called the Twin, was not with them when Jesus came. 25 So the other disciples told him, “We have seen the Lord.” But he said to them, “Unless I see in his hands the mark of the nails, and place my finger into the mark of the nails, and place my hand into his side, I will never believe.”

26 Eight days later, his disciples were inside again, and Thomas was with them. Although the doors were locked, Jesus came and stood among them and said, “Peace be with you.” 27 Then he said to Thomas, “Put your finger here, and see my hands; and put out your hand, and place it in my side. Do not disbelieve, but believe.” 28 Thomas answered him, “My Lord and my God!” 29 Jesus said to him, “Have you believed because you have seen me? Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed.”

30 Now Jesus did many other signs in the presence of the disciples, which are not written in this book; 31 but these are written so that you may believe that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God, and that by believing you may have life in his name (John 20:24-31).

Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed. John is writing to people — and we are amongst them — who have not and will not see the signs that Jesus worked. What we have is the word: the words spoken by Jesus and about Jesus, and the words written by John. Just as the word was sufficient to engender faith in the official it can be and must be sufficient for us. The word has its own authority and its own power independent of signs and wonders. This story of the official’s son is a resurrection story of sorts, a story of life from death. It is, in the true sense of the word, a sign pointing toward resurrection. It is a sign that links word and life. And that brings us right back again to John’s Prologue: Jesus the Word of God, became flesh and dwelt among us that we might have life. Jesus not only speaks but is the life-giving word. That is the nature of this second sign: the sufficiency of the word to engender faith. But these [words] are written so that you may believe that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God, and that by believing you may have life in his name (see John 20:31).

Apostles Anglican Church
Fr. John A. Roop

Hands and Hearts: A Homily On the Canaanite Woman
(Isa 56:1-8, Ps 67, Rom 11:13-24, Matt 15:21-28)

“O woman, great is your faith! Be it done for you as you desire” (Matt 15:28b).

In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

This whole thing with the Canaanite woman started some time before with an accusation scantily cloaked as a question. It’s there in St. Matthew’s Gospel immediately before today’s reading. Now, you would think that by this point in his ministry Jesus’ skeptics and opponents would know better; putting Jesus to the test never ended well for any of them. Even his answers, such as they were, were rarely directed to the questions posed but rather to the hearts of those who posed the questions, often revealing the pride and hypocrisy so carefully hidden there. Still, they came. Still, they asked.

1 Then Pharisees and scribes came to Jesus from Jerusalem and said, 2 “Why do your disciples break the tradition of the elders? For they do not wash their hands when they eat” (John 15:1-2).

The Pharisees and scribes come at Jesus with a two-pronged attack, questioning first his affiliation and loyalty and second his purity.

Whose side are you on? they want to know from Jesus. Are you a Republican, a Democrat, or an Independent? Are you a Conservative, a Liberal, or a Centrist? Are you a Baptist, a Methodist, or a Catholic? Do you use the 1928 Prayer Book, the 1979 Prayer Book, or the 2019 Prayer Book? Are you this? Do you do that? The questions and divisions can be multiplied ad nauseum. For these Pharisees and scribes the divisions ran along these lines: Are you with us Pharisees and scribes, or with the Sadducees, or with the Essenes, or with a new messianic faction of your own making — something else altogether? Whose side are you on? Where does your loyalty lie? The litmus test of affiliation and loyalty they apply here is conformity to the tradition of the elders, a defining characteristic of the Pharisees and scribes. So they test Jesus: why do your disciples break the tradition of the elders?

We must now speak of Torah. Let us think of Torah — the Law, the teachings — as a fence that kept Israel from plunging off a precipice into covenant unfaithfulness. The Torah kept Israel away from the edge of spiritual and national disaster. Of course, one might reason that the farther from the edge the better. Perhaps we should build a second fence that keeps Israel from coming even as close to the edge as Torah allows. That would be safer, better, wouldn’t it? And, if a second fence, why not a third, a fourth even? And so it goes. Generation by generation newer, safer, more distant fences are built, the traditions of the elders accrue, until for the Pharisees and scribes keeping the traditions of the elders becomes synonymous with keeping the Torah itself. To break the tradition of the elders — to hop a fence, even one very distant from the edge marked by Torah — is to flaunt Torah, to be unfaithful to the covenant, to disaffiliate from the people of God as the Pharisees and scribes define the people of God, to exhibit disloyalty to Israel and to the God of Israel. And so, the Pharisees and scribes came to Jesus from Jerusalem and said, “Why do your disciples break the tradition of the elders?”

In all fairness, Jesus and his disciples did seem to sit a bit loose on the tradition. They consorted with tax collectors and sinners. They routinely skirted the Sabbath prohibition against work: Jesus healed on the Sabbath and told former paralytics to take up their beds and walk; the disciples plucked grain, threshed it in their hands, and ate it. Jesus acted very much as if he were Lord of the Sabbath; in fact, he even said so (see Matt 12:1-14). The Pharisees and scribes could have pointed to any of these infractions against the tradition — maybe fairly so — but they seized on something else entirely: your disciples do not wash their hands when they eat.

Now, let’s be clear; this has nothing to do with hygiene. It’s not mom or dad telling the kids to wash up before dinner. This is a matter of ritual purity, which means that, to the Pharisees and scribes, it is a matter of covenant faithfulness.

Here is why purity is so important: purity is the answer to the question of how the holy God of Israel can live among his less than holy people, first in the tabernacle and later in the temple. Purity lay at the heart of the sacrificial system including the great Day of Atonement rituals in which the tabernacle (or temple), the altar, the camp, and the people were purified with the sprinkling of blood. Much of the daily life of Israel was oriented toward purity: don’t touch this, don’t eat that, don’t go there, don’t do that; it is all there in the Torah. And, the remedy for infraction of the purity laws? Often, a ritual washing of body and clothes was required followed by a waiting period, just until the beginning of a new day at sundown. Then, what was impure regained its purity.

But, generation by generation, new fences of purity were built, new traditions of washings added. Eating bread? Hands must be washed, dirty or not: first a cup of water poured over the left hand, then a cup over the right — up to the wrists — followed by an elevation of both hands, a brief drip-dry, a blessing — Blessed are You Lord our God, King of the universe, Who has sanctified us with his commandments and commanded us on the washing of hands. — and finally a thorough drying with a towel. Without this ritual of purity, how could one dare to take bread into his hands and pronounce the blessing over it:

Blessed are You, Lord our God, King of the Universe, Who brings forth bread from the earth.

Lest we think this ritual overly fastidious, lest we approach near to mocking, notice the last act of our priests before approaching the altar for the Eucharist today. It is called the lavabo: the washing. It is part of the great Tradition observed by Orthodox, Roman Catholic, and Anglican clergy. Amongst Anglicans, the deacon pours water over the priest’s hands for a ritual cleansing before the priest takes the bread into his hands and blesses it. If I were to see an Anglican Eucharist celebrated without the lavabo, I might well ask the priest afterwards — if I were feeling a bit curmudgeonly that day — Why do you not wash your hands before taking the bread and blessing it? And just so — only more so — the Pharisees and scribes asked Jesus, “Why do your disciples break the tradition of the elders? For they do not wash their hands when they eat.”

We don’t have time to fully parse Jesus’ response, I’m afraid. But, this much we must say, and this much must do for now. If, without being flippant, I may couch Jesus’ answer in words familiar from The Princess Bride: You keep washing your hands; I do not think it does what you think it does. The Pharisees and scribes were treating this ritual washing as sacramental, as an outward and visible sign of an inner and hidden grace, as the means by which one attained purity toward God, as if the washing of hands made one pure before God, and as if failing to wash one’s hands made, or left, one impure. Not so. Even if one eats bread with unwashed, “impure” hands, it is of no grave consequence. Eat, digest, eliminate: no harm, no foul, no impurity. What goes into the mouth doesn’t render one impure. Hear Jesus on this.

18 “But what comes out of the mouth proceeds from the heart, and this defiles a person. 19 For out of the heart come evil thoughts, murder, adultery, sexual immorality, theft, false witness, slander. 20 These are what defile a person. But to eat with unwashed hands does not defile anyone” (Matt 15:18-20).

Purity is about the heart, not about the hands. Did the disciples get it? Did they understand? No, not by a long shot as the next episode in this story makes clear — that whole thing with the Canaanite woman.

But, before that, one other notion about purity is needed if we are to get the story right. Ritual purity had a geographical or geometrical component about it; think of it as concentric circles of purity. You get the notion by looking at the Temple. The Holy of Holies is the smallest, inner circle, the purest of the pure. Only the High Priest is allowed in that circle, and that only once each year after careful cleansing. Moving outward, we enter the Court of the Priests, where the sacrifices were offered; as the name implies, it was restricted to priests who also had to purify themselves with ritual washings. Next was the Court of Israel, reserved for Jewish men as they participated in the religious ceremonies. The Jewish women came next; they were restricted to the Court of Women. Lastly — outermost — came the Court of the Gentiles — the great mass of the “unwashed” — where people of many nations could gather to pray. This was also the commercial center of the Temple, the court Jesus cleansed before his final Passover because it had become a den of thieves instead of a house of prayer. So much for purity in that court. Here’s the point of this Temple geography: the nearer one was to approach God, the purer one had to be. And some people couldn’t approach at all; some people were perpetually impure.

I’ll spare sensitive ears — you can read all the details in Deuteronomy 23:1-6 — but eunuchs were not allowed in the assembly. Nor were those born of illicit unions, not even their eighth great grandchildren. And don’t get me started on Moabites and Ammonites. It was fine to hold a grudge there; even for ten generations they are banned from the assembly. No amount of hand washing will make a eunuch ritually pure or cleanse a tainted bloodline: you can’t wash the Moabite off of yourself. Some people, so it seems, are perpetually unclean, perpetually distanced from God.

Now, back to the story. After his encounter with the Pharisees and scribes, after making clear that purity is a matter of the heart and not of the hands, Jesus takes his disciples into the district of Tyre and Sidon: into Gentile territory, into pagan territory, into an impure land filled with impure people. So the Pharisees and scribes thought. So Jesus’ disciples thought.

22 And behold, a Canaanite woman from that region came out and was crying, “Have mercy on me, O Lord, Son of David; my daughter is severely oppressed by a demon” (Matt 15:22).

There is nothing subtle in St. Matthew’s account: this is a Canaanite woman — certainly a gentile, likely an idol worshipper, absolutely unclean. And her daughter? Even worse than the mother: she is demonized. All of this is ritual impurity painted upon an enormous canvas for all to see. And the disciples saw it.

Jesus kept silent. We see him use silence to great effect on other occasions, as well. When challenged by the Pharisees and scribes to condemn the woman taken in adultery, Jesus at first said nothing; he just bent down and scribbled in the sand. And, in his own trial, when the chief priests and elders accused him before Pilate, Jesus gave no answer. Here? His silence gives his disciples a beat, a moment to think, to process what they’ve seen and heard recently. Did they understand about the washing of hands and the thoughts of the heart? Do they know where purity lies?

23b And his disciples came and begged him, saying, “Send her away, for she is crying out after us” (Matt 15:23b).

Bless them. They were slow of heart to understand. So, in his mercy to everyone, Jesus continues the lesson because this is important. This has to do with the in-breaking of the kingdom of God in his very person.

24 He answered, “I was sent only to the lost sheep of the house of Israel.” 25 But she came and knelt before him, saying, “Lord, help me” (Matt 1524-25).

Still, Jesus pushes back once more, answering her as the Pharisees and the scribes would do, as his own disciples would do.

26b “It is not right to take the children’s bread and throw it to the dogs.” 27 She said, “Yes, Lord, yet even the dogs eat the crumbs that fall from their masters’ table” (Matt 15:26b-27).

We can’t know this, but I like to imagine Jesus looking at his disciples with raised eyebrows as if posing the question: “Do you get it now?” Purity is a matter of the heart, not a matter of the washing of hands or the bloodline. Do you still not understand?

28 Then Jesus answered her, “O woman, great is your faith! Be it done for you as you desire.” And her daughter was healed instantly (Matt 15:28).

It is crucial for the disciples to understand this. It is faith that matters, faith like this gentile woman had. Yes, Jesus was sent to the lost sheep of the house of Israel as he said. But the disciples will be sent — Jesus will send them — to make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit (see Matt 28:19). They will be his witnesses in Jerusalem — yes — in all Judea — of course — but also in Samaria and to the ends of the earth (see Acts 1:8). The disciples must grasp this truth: there is no impurity that can separate one whose heart is filled with this faith from the love of God which is ours in Christ Jesus our Lord. It is this Canaanite woman and all those like her then and now and in whatever generations may come that Isaiah foresaw.

3 Let not the foreigner who has joined himself to the Lord say,
“The Lord will surely separate me from his people”;
and let not the eunuch say,
“Behold, I am a dry tree.”

4 For thus says the Lord:
“To the eunuchs who keep my Sabbaths,
who choose the things that please me
and hold fast my covenant,

5 I will give in my house and within my walls
a monument and a name
better than sons and daughters;
I will give them an everlasting name
that shall not be cut off.

6 “And the foreigners who join themselves to the Lord,
to minister to him, to love the name of the Lord,
and to be his servants,
everyone who keeps the Sabbath and does not profane it,
and holds fast my covenant—

7 these I will bring to my holy mountain,
and make them joyful in my house of prayer;
their burnt offerings and their sacrifices
will be accepted on my altar;
for my house shall be called a house of prayer
for all peoples.”

8 The Lord God,
who gathers the outcasts of Israel, declares,
“I will gather yet others to him
besides those already gathered” (Isa 56:3-8).

All these promises of God find their yes in Christ Jesus (see 2 Cor 1:20). That is the story. That is the Gospel.

Beyond rejoicing in the purifying and redeeming power of faith in our Lord Jesus, beyond exulting in the inclusive love of God that draws those from every family, language, people and nation into his kingdom through such faith, what are we to do with this story? Where are the Pharisees and scribes and disciples and Canaanite women among us?

Well, I would have made a good Pharisee; I still do. I like being right, and if pointing out that others are in the wrong highlights my own self-righteousness, well then, so be it. Are there those — like the Moabites and the Canaanite woman — that I consider so unclean, so impure that I count them intrinsically cut off from God, inherently beyond the reach of redemption? I would never say that! But, it’s what’s in my heart that matters. And my heart can be deceitful. Of whom am I suspicious without real reason? Toward whom am I dismissive without real consideration? To whom do I feel superior without shame at my own pride? Whose sins do I hold ever before me — and before them — without lamenting my own? From whom have I withheld forgiveness — because they are clearly unworthy of it — all while expecting God to forgive me my trespasses? Lord, have mercy. If not watchful, if not repentant, I can be a Pharisee washing my hands and saying my blessings and sending away Canaanite women whose great faith beggars my own.

I would have made a good Pharisee — I still do — but I want to be a good Canaanite woman. I want a faith like hers: humble, audacious, persistent. I want a faith that drives me to my knees before Jesus so that he may cleanse me of all impurity, a faith that is not presumptuous, not certain of its own righteousness, but certain only of Jesus whose character is always to have mercy. I want a faith content with the crumbs from the master’s table. I want my sinful body to be made clean by his body, and my soul to be washed through his most precious blood (see The Prayer of Humble Access, BCP 2019, p. 135). I want to evermore dwell in him and he in me. I want to hear one day — please, God — “Great is your faith! Be it done for you as you desire.”

Amen.