Where is God in this?

A Sermon preached on Sunday, September 26, 2021 at St. Augustine’s and St. Christoph

Esther 7:1-6, 9-10; 9:20-22, James 5:13-20, Mark 9:38-50

Where is God in this? Is a question that often gets asked whenever there is a tragedy, most more recently the question has been, where is God in the pandemic? One answer, my answer, has always been that God is not in the tragedy but with those who suffer. One of Jesus’ names is Emmanuel – God with us – for that very reason. But we could ask that question – quite literally this morning, where is God in Book of Esther? It is the only book in the Bible with no explicit mention of God, and for that reason nearly did not make it into the canon. God’s people are being threatened with persecution and destruction. Where is God in this crisis? 

Today’s reading is also the only extract from the Book of Esther that we will hear in our three-year cycle of readings. So I had better summarise the whole plot first:  

King Ahasuerus has had to choose a new queen, and the young Jewess Haddassah, called Esther is chosen. The king does not know that she is a Jew. Her older cousin Mordecai, who has acted as a father to her, and who works at the palace, exposes a plot to kill the king but is left unrewarded. Later he learns of a plot to destroy all the Jews in the empire. It is the work of Haman, the new prime minister, who bears a very genocidal grudge against Mordecai and his poeple. Mordecai persuades Esther – at great risk to herself – to reveal to the king that Haman has issued a decree in the king’s name for the slaughter of the Jews and – as we heard – to ask that they be saved. The king grants that request, Haman is hanged on the scaffold that he had prepared for Mordecai: “His mischief shall return upon his own head, and his violent dealing shall come down upon his own pate” to quote from Psalm 7:16. And the whole story serves as the basis for the Jewish feast of Purim, where the defeat of Haman is often presented as a play amid a joyous carnival atmosphere.

There is no explicit mention of God in Esther, but God is still very present. At one point Mordecai says to Esther: “Who knows? Perhaps you have come to royal dignity for just such a time as this.” (Esther 4:14) There is a strong sense of her being placed there by God, of being guided by God, protected by God, and getting the courage to act from God. What causes the king to change his mind? Not just Esther’s beauty and courage. For the rabbis who put the Jewish Bible together, God was acting throughout this story of persecution and deadly threat to save God’s people both through their own actions – Jews such as Mordecai and Esther – and those of non-Jews like the Babylonian king.

This is the conviction that is expressed in this morning’s Psalm (124: 2-3) that: “If the LORD had not been on our side, when enemies rose up against us; Then would they have swallowed us up alive in their fierce anger toward us.”

And we find the same conviction later in the books of Isaiah, Ezra and Nehemiah when God acts to deliver God’s people through another king, Cyrus of Persia, conqueror of Babylon:

“The Lord stirred up the spirit of King Cyrus of Persia (who) declared: … The Lord, the God of heaven … has charged me to build him a house at Jerusalem in Judah. Any of those among you who are of his people—may their God be with them! —are now permitted to go up to Jerusalem in Judah, and rebuild the house of the Lord, the God of Israel.” (Ezra 1:1-3)

Jesus too shares this conviction that God acts through anyone doing good, whether they do it in God’s name or just for the good of those who follow God in Christ. That’s why he corrects his disciples when they try to stop a man who was healing, who was casting out demons, in Jesus’ name because he was not following them. “But Jesus said, ‘Do not stop him; for no one who does a deed of power in my name will be able soon afterward to speak evil of me. Whoever is not against us is for us.’” (Mark 9:38-40) In fact he follows this up with very severe – we might even say over the top – warnings to those who follow Christ, or think they do, not to rest on their laurels, but to make sure that they let nothing stand in the way of their faith and put nothing in the way of the faith of others.

The letter of James that we finished reading from this morning reminds us that one way – really the main way – of asking God for help and support in a crisis is through prayer: individually and collectively. Prayer is all about trusting in God’s presence and power and putting everything in God’s hands. “The prayer of the righteous is powerful and effective,” James writes (5:16) and in the hands of those God has called to serve “Are any among you sick? They should call for the elders of the church and have them pray over them, anointing them with oil in the name of the Lord.” (5:14)

We never know exactly how God will act – will there be healing, will there “just” be relief, will God act directly or through others, perhaps even through those we do not expect our God to act through (which is of course the basis of the parable of the Good Samaritan)? But James still calls us to be confident – to rejoice even – in the power of prayer.  We should not be surprised. The practice of prayer – praying for others and asking others to pray for us – is well established in the Bible. Paul especially exhorts others to pray for him and he prays for others. It is not that God is more likely to act, the more people pray for another. Or that God does not know our needs without our conscious prayer. But in some way, prayers create an additional space for God to work, often both in and through us.

In conclusion, I think the message of Esther and the message of James (and of Jesus too in those passages when he talks and teaches about prayer) is the same. When there is a need, we act: directly – as Esther intervenes with the king – and/or through prayer. And then when we have done all we can do, we leave it up to God, trusting in the words of the psalmist:

“Our help is in the Name of the LORD, the maker of heaven and earth.” (Psalm 124)

Amen.

Crumbs under the table

A Sermon preached on Sunday, September 5, 2021 at St. Augustine’s and St. Christoph

Proverbs 22:1-2, 8-9, 22-23, James 2:1-10, 14-17, Mark 7:24-37

This is one of the more challenging Gospel readings, challenging because of the way in which Jesus behaves towards the anonymous Gentile woman. He initially refuses her request for help for her daughter, though at least he answers her. In the version of this story in Matthew’s Gospel – 15.21-28 – his first reaction is to ignore her completely: “Jesus did not answer a word”. His refusal is also anything but polite: “Let the children be fed first, for it is not fair to take the children’s food and throw it to the dogs.” (Mark 7:27) Dog was a Jewish term of contempt for the Gentiles. I have seen commentaries calling out Jesus for his behaviour and for using a racist slur. The woman on the other hand is praised for her role, for her quick repartee - “Sir, even the dogs under the table eat the children’s crumbs,” (7:28) or her devotion to her daughter, and for having changed Jesus’ mind about his mission. Only now and thanks to the woman’s response, that narrative goes, does Jesus realise that he has been sent to bring the Good News to all people and not just to the Jewish people. This is not an interpretation I would sign up to, at least not all of it.

What I do agree with wholeheartedly is that the woman’s role is significant and positive. While I wish she had been given a name, this is still one of those occasions in Scripture where we encounter a strong, compassionate, clever, and courageous woman, and a foreigner to boot! Jesus’ ministry relied on female support. Women are often raised up as examples of exceptional faith and love. Jesus’ conversations with women are all important teaching moments, as is this one.

But this is not Jesus’ first encounter with a Gentile, not the first time he traverses ethnic boundaries and heals non-Jew, and not the first time that Jesus indicates that God’s mission also extends to Gentiles. The Gerasene demoniac, the one whose demons were transferred into a herd of pigs, was a Gentile. After his healing Jesus sends him back to his people as a witness: “Go home to your friends, and tell them how much the Lord has done for you, and what mercy he has shown you.” (Mark 5:19) And let’s not forget that in the passages before our reading, Jesus had just declared the purity laws of the Pharisees null and void, he is already breaking down barriers and crossing boundaries.

This episode is carefully sandwiched between the feeding of the five thousand (Mark 6.35–44) and the feeding of the four thousand (Mark 8.1–10). The five thousand were almost certainly all Jews – based on the context and the geography. The four thousand on the other hand, as Jesus was still in a Gentile-dominate region on his way back from today’s encounter, will at least have included many non-Jews. That’s probably one reason why we have the two multiplication stories, to show Jesus feeding first Jews and then non-Jews, meeting their physical and spiritual needs, thereby showing us, as we heard in Proverbs, that the Lord is the maker of them all.

So, in Mark’s account, Jesus’ encounter with the Syrophoenician woman is part of a clear trajectory in Jesus’ ministry and teaching from local to national, from his people, to all people. After the feeding of the four thousand Jesus’ focus returns to the people of Israel and to the city of Jerusalem for the fulfilment of his earthly ministry on the Cross. But as Tom Wright points out “As Jesus dies, Mark has a Roman Centurion affirm that he was truly the son of God (Mark 15:39). From that moment on, what was anticipated in the Syrophoenician woman became universally true. The King of the Jews had become saviour of the world.”[1]

 But even if Jesus had always intended – and I believe often demonstrated – that his ministry was never just for Israel and the Jews, although that is where it began and from whom the mission to the world would extend, what about the problematic encounter with the woman? What about the words he uses? Anyone watching and listening would have been surprised that he was talking to the woman at all. Women were not supposed to approach male strangers, and Gentile women were especially to be ignored. In Matthew’s version of this story the disciples are recorded as having simply urged Jesus to simply send her away.

But she is here because she has heard about Jesus, she is anxious for her daughter, desperate even, but she must also have some expectation that it is worthwhile trying to get his help. That he will allow it. And he does – if initially a little impatiently (for he is fully human too). Remember that the passage tells us that after his argumentative encounter with the Pharisees, Jesus had gone “away to the region of Tyre. He entered a house and did not want anyone to know he was there. Yet he could not escape notice.” (Mark 7:24) He was looking for some peace and quiet, he wanted to rest and replenish and still he has been found and someone wants something again. I think there was some exasperation in his reaction (not now), but also that he was also being deliberately provocative – not for the first or last time in the New Testament when he wanted to get a message across or get people thinking.

We can still be uncomfortable with Jesus’s response – even if the word he uses is not actually “dog,” but puppy, little dog. But we see him willing to interact with this woman, to enter a discussion, not only accepting, but admiring and praising her response. In the context of his time this was incredible. And for Mark’s audience, remember he was writing for a group of Gentile Christians, this would have been a passage to rejoice in, one showing that their inclusion in the God’s kingdom goes all the way back to Jesus, that it was always part of God’s plan. They are not intruders, and they are now counted as children of God.

Another reason why Mark (and Matthew) retained this event, is for us to admire and learn from the example of the Syrophoenician woman. There is a lot to admire: She is faithful, persistent, quick witted, focused and yet still humble. In the traditional language version of the Eucharist, Rite I, we still retain the Prayer of Humble Access that dates back to Thomas Cranmer’s first Book of Common Prayer. Partially based on today’s Gospel from Mark, it contains the words: “We are not worthy so much as to gather up the crumbs under thy Table. But thou art the same Lord whose property is always to have mercy.” That pretty much summarises her theology. On the one hand – her humility – she knows that we are nothing compared to God, and of course even the crumbs from the table would be enough for our healing and salvation. But she also believes in a generous and loving God who wants all people to be filled, all people to be healed, and all the world to be saved. What drives her are the three great virtues of faith, hope and love (1 Corinthians 13.13): Her faith in Jesus’ power to heal, her hope in a generous and gracious God, and her love both of another – of her daughter, who so needed healing – and ultimately of God.

Amen.

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[1] N.T. Wright, Mark for Everyone, p. 96