The Stories We are Told

Homily, The Stories We are Told
Twelfth Sunday after Pentecost, Proper 15A, 2023
Good Shepherd Episcopal Church
Tequesta, FL

The Rev. Derek M Larson, TSSF

Today’s Lectionary Readings:

Genesis 45:1-15
Psalm 133
Romans 11:1-2a, 29-32
Matthew 15: (10-20), 21-28

In the name of God, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Amen.

A pickup truck? 

Years ago, my wife and I were driving down I-75 from Nashville to Atlanta. She was in the driver seat and I was in the passenger, reading a book my mentor had recommended me about practicing awareness. The premise of the book was that if we practice inner awareness, we will notice that our bodies are always reacting to the things we see around us according to our subconscious beliefs about them. If we really pay attention, we will notice our body tense up or relax, move in one direction or another, all at the smallest and seemingly most insignificant things. In fact, sometimes these little reactions that we pay no attention to can determine whether we’re having a good or bad day. But if we can become aware of them, the book said, than they won’t have so much control over us. 

So, as I was sitting there in the passenger reading this book, I thought I’d test out this theory a little bit. I started looking out the window, paying close attention to how my body responded at the different things I saw. I saw a billboard with someone smiling on it. “Okay, I feel myself sort of relax at that smile.” I saw a cow in a pasture. “I’m not sure I noticed anything there, but maybe.” I saw a blue house. “Well, I like that color, am I feeling slightly more at peace?” 

So I did this for a few moments, testing out the words of the author, and then suddenly out of the corner of my eye, I saw it. The tire of a large pickup truck passing to our right, and before my brain had even registered what it was I saw, I felt my body immediately tense up up. My palms started sweating. My eyebrows kind of sunk down low. It wasn’t a big reaction. Not one I’d typically notice. But this time I noticed it immediately. What was that? Why would my body react at the mere sight of something as simple as a vehicle on the road?

And then came the memories. The memories from childhood when I was struggling with my own identity and what it meant to grow into a man. Memories from high school of the guys who drove those trucks making fun of me. Memories of Ford Tough commercials that made me wonder if I was tough enough. Memories of my little blue caravan and how I once accidentally backed into someone’s pickup truck, and everyone laughed at me. Silly little memories. But memories that had somehow shaped the way I saw the world around me. Hidden stories in my head that told me that I should beware of pickup trucks and those that drive them. And so here I was years later, a grown adult, finding myself defensive at the mere sight of a pickup truck! Isn’t that incredible?

Now that’s sort of a silly example, and I found myself owning a pickup truck not long after that, but it’s an example of how we are shaped by the stories in our minds, and if we are not aware, those stories, whether they are true or not, will direct our lives. 

Jesus and his disciples were traveling down the main highway between Galilee and Syro-Phoenicia—the district of Tyre and Sidon. When suddenly this Canaanite woman started following them. And at the sight of her Jesus felt his body tense up and his palms began to sweat. His eyebrows became more stern. And so he turned his face away and continued walking. But she kept on following them. She started to call out, “Have mercy on me, Lord, Son of David.” But Jesus kept walking. His disciples tried to shew her away, but she dodged them her knees landing in the dust before Jesus, “Lord, help me.” But without even a glance he replied, “It is not fair to take the children’s food and throw it to the dogs.” Yet she fired back, “even the dogs eat the crumbs that fall from their masters’ table.” 

At these words, finally, Jesus looked at this Canaanite woman. And the memories came. Memories from childhood and the stories he had been told. Stories of how Abraham and Isaac refused to allow their sons to marry Canaanite women (Genesis 24 and 28). Stories of how the Israelites warred against the Canaanites as they entered the promised land with a heavenly call to drive them out (Deuteronomy 20). Stories of victory and how when they defeated the Canaanites they put them into forced labor (Joshua 17). He remembered the stories of the prophets who spoke over and over again against the cities of Tyre and Sidon (Jeremiah 47, Joel 3, Ezekiel 26, etc.). Centuries and centuries, generations and generations of stories handed down to him. 

But here, as he looked into her eyes, he heard a new story. As he looked at her, her lips moved with a story from God—a story he knew well, but had somehow momentarily forgot. “Woman, great is your faith!,” he responded, “Let it be done for you as you wish.” 

It’s a rare look at Jesus. One that lets us into the tension he must have lived as one fully human and yet fully divine. Just like us, as human, Jesus was shaped by the culture in which he lived. He was shaped by the stories told to him through the years of his life. And as a first century, Jewish man from Galilee, the stories he heard about the Canaanites were not good stories. 

But Jesus was also aware of a different story. The story of God. A story in which he had participated from the foundation of the world. A story which at times calls into question the stories of humanity and beckons us towards something higher. A story of love. 

Side-by-side these two stories existed within Jesus. Day-by-day the choice of which story to listen was before him. And in his encounter with the Canaanite woman, Jesus models for us what it means to choose God’s story. A story of love. Even in the face of a deeply held, generational belief. And even when it takes a moment.

What stories are playing in your head about those around you? What stories have you been told for so many years that your body tenses up at the mere mention of them? What stories are preventing you from hearing the story God is telling? A story of love and acceptance for all. Are you paying attention? Can you hear those stories? 

If you spend a little time each day practicing awareness—make it an experiment—noticing the way your body reacts around certain people, certain words, certain images, you’ll begin to uncover the hidden stories within you that keep you from fully loving those around you. And if you keep paying attention, if you keep practicing awareness, than like Jesus who heard it on the lips of a Canaanite woman, you’ll begin to hear the story of God in places you’d never dream of hearing it. If only you pay attention. Amen.