Homily, The Stories We Listen To
The Twelfth Sunday after the Pentecost, Proper 15A (2026)
St. Peter’s Episcopal Church
Plant City, FL
The Rev. Derek M Larson, TSSF
Today’s Lectionary Readings:
Isaiah 56:1,6-8
Psalm 67
Romans 11:1-2a, 29-32
Matthew 15: (10-20), 21-28
In the name of God: Father, Son and Holy Spirit. Amen.
We are shaped by the stories that we are told. For the stories we are told, become for us a worldview. They become the lens through which we see the people, the places, and the things around us. The stories we are told become for us our value system. They inform our goals, our behavior, our choices. If we are told a good story then we will live our lives as a good story. But if the stories we are told are about destruction, then our lives become another story.
The question then for us becomes what are the stories we are told? What are the stories we are listening to?
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 (Judges 1). He remembered the stories of the prophets who spoke over and over again against the cities of Tyre and Sidon (Jeremiah 25, Joel 3, Zechariah 9). Centuries and centuries, generations and generations of stories handed down to him.
But here, as he looked into her eyes, he heard a different 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 to 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.
This passage makes us uncomfortable. It seems to show Jesus in an unseemly light. We don’t quite know what to do with a Jesus who calls a woman pleading for her daughter a dog. And there are a number of scholarly ways to explain it away (and perhaps they are right), but in the end isn’t Jesus human? Perhaps not sinful, but human. And every human has been shaped by the stories we’ve been told. In the end, what matters is not our inner monologue, or social conditioning, or generational bias, or our deeply held subconscious beliefs that we all have as humans. In the end, it’s what we do with them that matters. And what did Jesus do? He opened his heart to another story and shared the love of God with someone pleading to be seen and heard.
We can not always choose the stories we have been told, but we can always choose what to do with those stories, and we can always choose what new stories we will listen to. Jesus models for us what it means to listen to God’s story in the voice of another. To choose God’s story when another recording is playing in our head.
What stories are playing in your head about those around you? About yourself? About the world you live in?
What stories have you been told about Republicans? What stories have you been told about Democrats? What stories have you be told about immigrants, billionaires, prisoners, Muslims, Baptists, the homeless, LGBT folks, police officers, or feminists?
What stories have you been told for so many years that your body tenses up at the mere mention of them?
We are shaped by the stories that we are told. So let us choose carefully what stories we are listening to. Let us listen to the stories of love, of compassion, of healing, of understanding. Let us with Jesus as our guide listen to the stories of God. Amen.
Questions for Reflection
- What are the stories from my past that have shaped my perceptions of others, and how might I need to re-examine them to align more closely with values of love and compassion?
- In moments of discomfort or tension regarding others, how can I remind myself to listen for God’s story rather than my own preconceived narratives?
- What specific groups or individuals do I find myself holding biases against, and how can I intentionally seek out their stories to foster understanding and empathy?
- How do the stories I tell myself about my own identity and worth influence my actions and interactions with others?
- In what ways can I actively choose new stories that promote healing, connection, and love in my daily life?
Thoughts on Faith 