That's what makes him so funny on the HBO series Curb Your Enthusiasm -- he's completely incapable of expressing any excitement about everyday earthly existence. Tall, thin, and dour, this co-creator of the old Seinfeld series is self-centered, whiny and fixated on the minutiae of life -- in one episode, Larry decides not to reach down and return an errant golf ball simply because he's put off by the chin strap on its owner's sun hat.
The disciples of Jesus sometimes seem like extras on the set of Curb Your Enthusiasm. They tend to exhibit this same curmudgeonly attitude, acting cranky and obstreperous as they encounter the Canaanite woman in today's passage from Matthew. This Gentile woman meets Jesus and his followers on her home turf, the district of Tyre and Sidon, and immediately accosts them and cries out, "Have mercy on me, Lord, Son of David; my daughter is tormented by a demon" (Matthew 15:22).
Jesus does not reply at all, and the disciples sense from his silence that he is blowing her off. So, ramping up their excitement and nastiness, they call out, "Send her away, for she keeps shouting after us" (v. 23).
It's like the disciples are saying, "Hey, lady! Curb your enthusiasm."
The disciples themselves have their own sort of perverse enthusiasm, and given the zeal with which they approach their roles, it's a wonder that the size of the crowds around Jesus ever grows at all. Their hearts are in the right place, but their enthusiasm is just a bit overwhelming. These 12 see themselves as the chosen few, the cream of the crop, the entitled elite, the devoted dozen, the Lord's own Dream Team. They are passionate about Christ and don't have much interest in sharing their mentor with the unenlightened masses.
When Jesus makes the comment that his ministry is directed only to "the house of Israel" (v. 24), the disciples are probably thinking, "Exactly."
If you don't understand this concept of jealous protectionism, look at a contemporary example. Go to your local Harley-Davidson dealership. Harley devotees are so in love with their brand that they have been scaring off prospective customers -- people who merely like the idea of motorcycles.
"People who are new to motorcycling can find us intimidating," Harley's CEO admits. "They don't know the lingo. They don't know how to get started. We need to lighten our image without losing our edge."
Can the same be said of our church today? Are we, like the first disciples of Jesus, driving people away by being so enthusiastic that to others it's just a bit much? Like Harley aficionados, we tend to intimidate folks who don't know the lingo, and don't know how to get started. You think?
Do we need to curb our enthusiasm, cut down on our crankiness and somehow lighten our image without losing our edge?
Down in Memphis, Tennessee, at the Bumpus Harley-Davidson dealership, a new program is being launched to attract Harley wannabes. For two and a half days, a handful of newbies spend close to 16 hours on a motorcycle in a class called Rider's Edge, learning how to weave a 400-pound Hog through fluorescent green and orange cones. The teachers initiate the class into the rites of Harley: how the bikes are made, how they are sold and why people are willing to tattoo Harley's familiar black-and-orange logo on various body parts.
"We wanted to take the person who felt like an outsider and turn him into an insider," says Lara Lee, the director of Rider's Edge. The trick is to do this "without insiders feeling as if we were taking away from Harley's image, which is a little bit bad and a little bit separate."
So, how does Jesus take a person who feels like an outsider and turn her into an insider? First, he isn't afraid to bend tradition. When he says, "It is not fair to take the children's food and throw it to the dogs" (v. 26) -- meaning that it isn't right to take the spiritual nourishment meant for the Jews and toss it to the Gentiles -- he is describing his tradition quite accurately. But when she replies that "even the dogs eat the crumbs that fall from their masters' table" (v. 27), he gives her credit for thinking outside the box. "Good answer, woman!" Jesus seems to be thinking. There's a place for honoring tradition, but not when it stands in the way of touching lives with the gospel. Sometimes traditions are meant to be bent -- even broken.
Next, Jesus sees what others cannot see. The Canaanite woman doesn't have much, but she does have something -- and in greater measure than the disciples themselves: faith. "Woman, great is your faith!" he announces in front of his followers, and in the process of saying this he disses the disciple Peter a little bit, since Jesus has recently rebuked him for having such "little faith" (14:31). Because the woman's unpolished but powerful faith is so great, Jesus says, "Let it be done for you as you wish." And her daughter is healed, instantly (v. 28).
It's not easy to shed the "This-is-the-way-it's-always-been-done" mentality. It's easy to cherish the enthusiasm we have for our traditions, our patterns, rituals and programs. The challenge is to curb this kind of passion, to be willing to bend, and even break, those patterns that keep people away from the saving grace of the Lord. Unfortunately, whenever we talk about making changes in the church, we get accused of taking good spiritual food and throwing it to the dogs.
Like Jesus, we have to be willing to curb our enthusiasm for time-honored traditions if we're going to reach a generation that knows nothing of our practices and patterns. We can't afford to come across like the first disciples, insiders who were certainly excited about their faith, but also cranky and basically uninterested in sharing their discoveries with the outsiders around them. It's important to be willing to bend and even break our patterns, and to learn from the culture around us as we seek to improve our communication techniques. After all, didn't Jesus learn a little something from the Canaanite woman, when she expanded his awareness of what even the dogs under the table needed to eat?
That's a powerful image, when you think about it: Jesus Christ, the Son of God, learning a life-changing lesson from a common Canaanite woman. She challenged him and stretched him and pushed him to see a new possibility for ministry to the Gentiles. There are people all around us who can do the very same thing, even in a culture that is often seen as "going to the dogs."
Equally important, we are challenged to perceive the faith of our neighbors, even if their trust is raw and unrefined. True believers are found not only in groups like the 12 disciples, insiders who are convinced that they have a corner on spirituality. No, sincere faith is found among Canaanite women, Harley devotees, recovering drug addicts, recent immigrants and all the other people we tend to label as outsiders. Authentic trust is found among twenty-somethings who have never darkened a church door, tech workers who scratch their heads when confronted with organized religion and professionals at midlife who are wondering about the meaning of it all. We miss an important connection point if we fail to sense the presence of faith in these lives, and to see this faith as a potential foundation for a relationship with Jesus Christ.
Jesus didn't miss it. He found the faith of the Canaanite woman and used it as a springboard for a spectacular healing. Just like our Lord and the organizers of Rider's Edge, we have to find fresh ways to welcome people who feel like outsiders. Find ways to welcome them, share our traditions with them and gracefully turn them into insiders. We should take opportunities to draw outside the lines and explore the streams of faith that run through the experiences of our neighbors.
The challenge is to communicate our lingo and lighten our image, without losing our Christian edge.
Never.