Begging for Mercy

 

August 16, 2020        The Rev. Nancy E. Gossling        Begging for Mercy

 Jesus left that place and went away to the district of Tyre and Sidon. Just then a Canaanite woman from that region came out and started shouting, “Have mercy on me, Lord, Son of David; my daughter is tormented by a demon.” But he did not answer her at all. And his disciples came and urged him, saying, “Send her away, for she keeps shouting after us.” He answered, “I was sent only to the lost sheep of the house of Israel.” But she came and knelt before him, saying, “Lord, help me.” He answered, “It is not fair to take the children’s food and throw it to the dogs.” She said, “Yes, Lord, yet even the dogs eat the crumbs that fall from their masters’ table.” Then Jesus answered her, “Woman, great is your faith! Let it be done for you as you wish.” And her daughter was healed instantly. (Matthew 15: 21-28)

Have you ever had to beg for mercy? If you are anything like me, you prefer not to ask for help, because you like to be in control. You like to be independent, self sufficient, capable of handling whatever happens. And so asking for help is difficult, and begging for mercy is nearly impossible. Things have to be pretty bad to sink that low, to become that vulnerable. Like the first time I had to ask for help when a family member was struggling with an addiction.

Begging for mercy was also the case with the woman in today’s gospel. She was a Canaanite, in other words an enemy of the Jews. She was one of those people the Israelites had to conquer in order to receive the land promised to them by their God. And she was unclean because she was a Gentile. A Gentile, and a woman! No wonder Jesus, who was a good and faithful Jew, gave her the silent treatment. No wonder the disciples wanted Jesus to send her away.

According to the Bible, we are made in the image of God. We have been created with minds to think, hearts to love, hands to serve, and the freedom of our wills to decide what we will or will not do. I often think that I should be able to handle things that I can't. Sometimes I understand what’s happening and why; other times I can only "smh"- shake my head. Jesus thought that he had been sent by God only to his people. And now here was this Gentile woman begging him for mercy.

Jesus told her that it wasn't fair, that it wasn't right, that he should give Israel’s food - that is the mercy of God- to the dogs - a Jewish euphemism for Gentiles. Initially, he intended to send her away. But this woman was desperate, as those of us who have ever faced the loss of a loved one can be. At times like these, read pandemic, we'll do anything, try anything, say anything to hang on to what we know and love - whether it be a person, a job, a teaching, or even an addiction.

I worked for a year as a chaplain at Bridgeport Hospital. On a Friday that I will never forget, I was the chaplain who was called to the emergency room. In the trauma room was a young Korean woman in her early 20's. She had drunk approximately 3 gallons of cleaning fluid, and had been discovered in the bathroom by her younger sister. The doctor asked me to inform the mother and sister that she would not live. The social worker escorted me to the family room, where I met the mother and her other daughter for the first time.

The mother was understandably hysterical, and as she spoke to me in Korean, her daughter translated. She told me that her older daughter could not die, because they were Christians, and if she died she would go to hell because she had done this terrible thing. I told her that I also was a Christian, but did not believe that. I told her that I thought that there is a wideness in God's mercy, and that when she died, she would not go to hell. I told her that while the doctors did not expect her to live, I also told her that I believed in miracles. And that all that we could do at this point was to pray - pray for her life and pray for God 's mercy.

Together we went to the trauma room to say some prayers, where the older daughter lay, with black fluid draining from her body, and a team of physicians and nurses surrounding the table. Before I could open my mouth, the mother began to pray in Korean. Weeping and praying, hands outstretched over her daughter, she continued until the doctors told us that it was time to go. Her daughter was then wheeled from the trauma room to the Medical Intensive Care Unit in order to die.

I accompanied the mother and the younger sister to our chapel in the hospital, where I offered to stay with them and pray. The mother indicated to me that she was fine being alone, and so I returned to her dying daughter in the MICU to say some final prayers of my own. Like the woman in today’s gospel story, I couldn't bear the grief of this mother, perhaps because I am a mother myself. I couldn't bear the thought of this young and beautiful daughter dying, perhaps because she was so close in age to my own daughter. And I was angry because I thought that there must have been something awful that happened to drive her to such an extreme. Certainly God wouldn't condemn her for such a decision. And so at her bedside in the MICU, with tears of anger and grief in my eyes, I prayed very briefly beföre I went home. "Lord Jesus, you said that if we asked for anything in your name, you would do it. So do something!"

Although not Jewish, I do have a lot of chutzpah. And although bold, I have never been quite so bold, before or even after that Friday. I have not demanded certain outcomes from God since then; and yet I have begged for mercy on many occasions. As my anger subsided, my grief did not, and I found myself praying all weekend, begging for mercy. I imagined laying my hands upon this girl's head and praying for her healing. When I returned to the hospital on Monday, I learned that her mother had spent the whole weekend on her knees in the chapel.

That Monday morning I received a phone call from the social worker, who has never been a big fan of hospital chaplains. The emergency room was her territory, and she never saw the need for chaplains. With awe in her voice, she told me that on Sunday the black fluid in the tubes suddenly turned clear. The young girl was out of intensive care and resting comfortably in another part of the hospital. At the very least, the doctors told her that she should have burned her esophagus and stomach from all the chemicals that she drank. On that Monday, she was only suffering from a slightly sore throat.

When I saw this young Korean girl later that day, I learned that her uncle had suffered from such severe depression in Korea that he had thrown himself off of a roof. She was told that she needed medication for her own physical and chemical imbalances. When her mother walked me out of the room, after our visit, she hugged me in the hallway. With her arms in the air and a smiling face, she kept saying, "Thank you, Jesus. Thank you, Jesus. Thank you, Jesus.”

I don't tell you this story in order to impress you with any great powers that I might have in prayer, nor likewise for the Korean woman, or suggest that if you stay on your knees long enough, you'll get what you want. For I have prayed long and hard for things that seemingly never changed. But I do believe in miracles, and I know that there are plenty of things well beyond our human understanding.

I also know that just as we change our minds and our wills at different times in our lives, so too did Jesus. He kept his mind and his heart open for new directions from God. What never changes, however, is the unchanging love of God for our health and our salvation. Mercy is the steadfast love of God, and it endures forever. For in his tender compassion, with no begging on our parts, Jesus stretched out his arms of love on the hardwood of the cross so that we might know the healing power of God’s love and the promise of resurrection life. Thank you Jesus. Amen.