Sam Bush, “How To Get People to Like You.”

How do you get people to like you? I don’t mean to sound so desperate, I’m asking for a friend, obviously. There are countless studies online to help guide you in the ways of maximizing your appeal. Being kind to animals always helps, as does being polite and having a witty sense of humor. A fancy title in front of your name like “Duchess” or “Chief Surgeon” can go a long way. The common thread, of course, between these guides is the idea that your appeal comes from what you bring to the table, that being loved is contingent upon your enoughness. Are you smart enough? Beautiful enough? Successful enough? Follow the breadcrumbs of enoughness and you will find love.

This morning’s gospel reading turns this logic on its head. Let’s set the scene: Jesus is in a foreign land, north of Israel, in Gentile territory. Everyone is seeking him out. The passage says, “He entered a house and didn’t want anyone to know he was there, yet he couldn’t escape notice.” A woman, “a gentile, of Syrophoenician origin,” comes inside. Her little daughter has an unclean spirit and she desperately wants her child healed. She’s not polite. She does not say, “Sorry to bother you. I was wondering if you could cure my daughter, but totally understand if you’re too busy. No pressure!” She bows at Jesus’ feet. In Matthew’s gospel it says she cries, “Have mercy on me, O Lord.” She goes all in.

Jesus gives her the cold shoulder. It says, “He did not answer her a word.” She persists. His disciples want to send her away because it’s just too embarrassing, but Jesus then adds insult to injury. He says, “Let the children be fed first (meaning the people of Israel) for it is not fair to take the children’s food and throw it to the dogs.” You see, in first-century Judaism, Jews called Gentiles dogs because they believed non-Jews were unclean. Cleansing rituals were a major factor in worship. It was how you made yourself presentable to God. In other words, Jesus is giving voice to what everyone around him is thinking. His disciples, the Pharisees, everyone is expecting Jesus to draw a line in the sand between the in-crowd and the outsiders. This woman has zero appeal to the holy rollers.

How does she respond? She says what any of us would say: “How dare you! Do you know who I am? I was president of my high school class! I have 1200 followers on Instagram! In certain circles, I’m a big deal!” No. She says, “Sir, even the dogs under the table eat the children’s crumbs.” Rather than defend her dignity, she doubles down on her desperate need and her humility. 

Everyone around expects her to be cast out like Oliver Twist, the orphan boy from the Charles Dickens novel who requests another basin of gruel from a church workhouse master. After he pleads “Please, sir, I want some more!” Dickens writes, “The master aimed a blow at Oliver's head with the ladle; pinioned him in his arm; and shrieked aloud for the church officer.” Surely, the same will happen to this woman who is totally out of line. But how does Jesus respond? He says, “Woah! Hold the phones! I like you! For saying that, you may go—the demon has left your daughter.” She goes home, finds the child lying on the bed, the demon gone. What everyone else found off-putting and revolting, Jesus found appealing.

This story rightfully rubs people the wrong way - Jesus comes off as rude, possibly racist -  but, if you dig just a little bit, it provides far more comfort than the alternative of self-esteem. If you were a child of the ‘90s, you were steeped in a culture of self-esteem. For those of you who weren’t born yet, just know that, in the 90s the music was incredible, everything smelled of cucumber melon and we were constantly being told that we were special and could do anything we could set our minds to. People believed self-confidence would protect us from loneliness and anxiety and would give us a sense of drive and purpose. But the gospel of self-esteem was not enough. We have a vast collection of participation trophies, but millennials and Gen-Zers are plagued with anxiety. 

It’s not just the younger generations. Consider Nicole Holofcener’s latest film You Hurt My Feelings about a novelist Beth and her husband, Don. For years, Don has been his wife’s cheerleader throughout the ups and downs of her writing career, but everything is thrown into crisis the moment Beth overhears Don giving an honest (and entirely negative) critique of her latest book to a friend. Don later admits that he doesn’t actually think her book is very good and she’s completely undone. Her friend tries to console her saying that Don loves her but it’s not enough. “I just need his approval,” she says. You may roll your eyes at Beth’s “crisis,” but who doesn’t need approval. We want to be judged objectively so that we’ll be taken seriously. We would rather be impressive than be loved because we would rather be justified based on what we do. That is, until what we do is not enough, when we fall short of being World’s Best Dad or Employee of the Month, when we lose our temper or slander a friend or do the thing we swear we’d never do again or we are past our prime or we are simply off our game. The theologian Martin Luther once said, “If you turn a person in on themselves for comfort they will always become discouraged.”

The woman in this passage accepts something about herself that nobody else around her is willing to accept - that, on her own, she is not enough. It’s not that she is worthless, it’s just that she recognizes that Jesus alone is worthy. She approaches him not based on her merits but on his mercy. It is such a proper approach to God that she is remembered in our Prayer of Humble Access. We say it every service.

What does this mean for you right now? Where the world may be repelled by weakness, God is drawn to it. There may be a number of ways to win friends and influence people, but nothing seems to resonate with Jesus like a soul laid bare. Trusting that, what would it look like to lead with weakness rather than strength? Years ago, when I was a college student here, a group of us would pray for people at St. Anne’s altar rail and I remember a student coming up and saying, “Can you pray for me? I’m obsessed with what people think about me.” Instantly, he became one of my favorite people and he still is because it turns out vulnerability not only invites friendship, but love. As the Bible says, “God chose what is low and despised in the world…so that no one might boast in the presence of God.”

In an interview with the Wall Street Journal, Stephen Colbert told a story about when he was deeply depressed in college. His girlfriend had broken up with him, he lost 50 pounds his freshman year; one time, he didn’t get out of bed for a week. One day he goes for a run with his friend and this is what he says: “I remember he stopped me for a second and sat me down (the sun was going down and we were both kind of breathing hard) and he looked at me and he said, “You’re enough! You’re enough! Don’t worry about it.” And, for some reason, that set him free.

The gospel proclaims the same to you. You’re enough. Not by your own righteousness, but according to his abundant and great mercies. You’re enough. Not by what you bring to the table but what he has brought on your behalf. No matter how hard we try, we are not worthy so much as to gather up the crumbs under his table, but he graciously invites us to the Supper of the Lamb, the feast of feasts where he himself is the bread and the wine. 

After all, Jesus has a soft spot for dogs. The Psalmist’s account of his crucifixion reads, “Many dogs surround me. I can count all my bones.” While the entire world had abandoned him, it seems the dogs, in their desperate hunger, still knew to follow the breadcrumbs that led to love. 

You may have heard the old adage, “No one will love you until you love yourself,” which, of course, is total rubbish. The truth is that you won’t be free to love yourself or others until you are loved by someone else. In Jesus Christ, you are. And that is more than enough. Amen. 

Always taking it one step further, he became a dog for our sake. The 19th century 

The English novelist, Samuel Butler: "The great pleasure of a dog is that you may make a fool of yourself with him and not only will he not scold you, but he will make a fool of himself too." This is what Jesus did on the Cross for you, the King of Kings became the ultimate Fool. 

Of course, the intersection of truth and love happens precisely at one point: namely, forgiveness. Forgiveness sees the other for the truth of who they are and loves them still. This is not a sentimental love where the secrets of life are hidden, nor is it a love that is really its opposite that holds one to account and tries to change the other person. No, this is a love that everyone longs for. This is the love of a spouse who remains faithful to the unfaithful partner. This is the love of a parent who knows every message sent from a teenager’s phone but continues to pay the phone bill. It is a love that does not hinge on a person’s actions or feelings, but stands on its own. I was deeply depressed when I was in college; I lost fifty pounds my freshman year. Also, my girlfriend broke up with me, couldn’t find a reason to get out of bed in the morning, literally didn’t get out of bed for a week. And i went for a run with a dear friend and he stopped me, he sat me down, the sun was going down, we were both breathing hard and he said, “

The world’s grumpy uncle or in this case Aunt, Fran Lebowitz: There are too many books. The books are terrible. And this is because you have been taught to have self-esteem. I do not want everyone to express themselves. I only want people with talent to express themselves artistically.

CR: There are also concerns about rising rates of psychological problems such as depression and anxiety. How do these problems connect to the self and perhaps the self-esteem movement?

WS: We can’t oversimplify this complex and serious problems, but one part of the story is that we tend to become stressed and depressed when we set overly high expectations for ourselves and repeatedly fail to meet them. When we tell ourselves we can be anything we want to be, which is the myth that emerges from Human Potential and self-esteem ideas, we’re setting ourselves up for unhappiness, because it’s simply not true…

We may not be justified according to our works. Instead, we are justified by a love that is more reliable and consistent than talent or success, a love that transcends our feelings altogether, a love that sets us free. 

Jesus was sent as the Messiah of the Jews. They and they alone were expecting God to send them a Savior. Now, imagine an army medic being asked to treat an injured enemy soldier - this would be pre-Geneva Convention, pre-humanitarian rights, 

Jesus’ response is surprising and offensive. He gives three comparisons: bread/his message; children/the Jewish people; and dogs/Gentiles. First holds out the hope that Gentiles will also become the recipients of God’s grace. 

The woman is both humble and persistent. 

How does that make sense? Jesus is not usually so orderly. Doesn’t he say “The first shall be last and the last shall be first?” Why is he playing favorites to the Jewish people?

Where is your confidence? Julie Andrews says: “Show them I'm worthy / And while I show them / I'll show me. I have confidence in confidence alone / Besides, which you see / I have confidence in me.”

Where’s your sense of worth? For starters, you have your stunning good looks. Your charming disposition. 

Jews frequently insulted Gentiles by calling them dogs which in ancient Palestine were wild, homeless scavengers. 

Samuel Butler, a 19th century English novelist: "The great pleasure of a dog is that you may make a fool of yourself with him and not only will he not scold you, but he will make a fool of himself too." In this circumstance, the dog is the Christ-figure. When you have made a fool out of yourself, Jesus not only doesn’t scold you, but makes a fool of himself too on the Cross.

There’s a story about Alexander the Great. He had a general, one who had served Alexander for a while and was a good general, whose daughter was getting married and he needed money for the endowment. Alexander said absolutely, how much? And the man, in front of a crowd, mentioned an exorbitant amount of money - much more than anyone had expected. And Alexander's face just beamed. He said "Absolutely! Go to my treasurer and it will be given to you." People then asked Alexander why he wasn't furious or didn't feel tricked and his response was, "This man has given me a profound honor because he has believed that I am a man of fabulous wealth and am extremely generous." You see, the general did not approach the throne with a sense of deservedness. He simply trusted Alexander’s generosity. 

There’s plenty of mercy and forgiveness to go around.

So goes the two-point formula of the Christian life — repentance and redemption, confession and consolation. When we finally give up our lives, we are given a far better life in return. It is somehow only after our weakness is revealed that God’s strength is ushered in. As the Apostle Paul wrote, “I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may dwell in me” (2 Cor 12:9). Not only is this approach to life the key to freedom and relief, but it just so happens to be the best strategy to win a rap battle.

​​"One of your greatest misconceptions, the one you must jettison as soon as is convenient to you, that you're easy to live with. You're not. You're a monster. Marriage reveals this to you, though you'd prefer to blame your partner, your parents or SCOTUS. Their monstrousness is so much easier to see."

Consider the Wall Street Journal’s interview series called “The One” in which WSJ Magazine’s cover stars talk about “the one” secret to their success — the one person they call in a crisis, the one song they listen to on repeat, the one habit they wish they could break. Each segment features perfect lighting and charming background music, but there’s a clear human element to the series. The fourth wall of celebrity is mostly broken. The characters we admire on the big screen or the runway have momentarily condescended, wearing street clothes and talking about their kids. Two interviews, one with Ben Affleck and the other with Stephen Colbert, are particularly striking because they lie on opposite sides of the relatability spectrum.

During his interview, Ben Affleck has all the markings of a celebrity. He is, first and foremost, attractive. Even at his age, Affleck’s beard and hair are things mortal men only dream of. But something is missing. He avoids disclosing anything remotely personal out of fear of compromising his reputation. When asked if there is a song he is currently obsessed with, he refuses, saying it would be far too revealing. When asked about the most embarrassing audition of his life he says, “Why would I ever tell that? I’m far too embarrassed to repeat it. I try to conceal the embarrassing things about my life and only reveal the appealing things.” All the while, his eyes are cast down.

There’s something about the guarded nature of the interview that is counter-intuitively honest, or at least instructive. Ben Affleck wants people to like him, so he hides his embarrassment. He leads with his strengths, or natural appeal, perhaps thinking that will play well to people. But the interview ends up falling flat. There’s a sadness just below the surface that I kept hoping would come up for air. But, by the end, we know little about this man who isn’t even willing to tell us what music he’s listening to.

For the exact opposite reason, however, Stephen Colbert’s interview is a delight. He speaks with genuine curiosity. It’s as if he’s been thinking of these questions for years. What’s the one thing he would change about himself? More discipline. What does he do when he has writer’s block? He goes for a walk. What one book should everyone read? The Bible. What’s the one value most lacking in American culture right now? Humility, he says, before listing a slew of our other collective deficiencies.

Colbert’s interview feels like a heart-to-heart (“I’m a bundle of anxiety. I’ve got a cheesecake factory menu of things I’m afraid of”). Moreover, there’s a sense that Colbert’s answers would be the same no matter who was asking the questions. He’s not a glorified celebrity condescending with wisdom from on high, but a fellow human, a friend, a confidant. The way his words resonate with people is evident in the comments section. Is it possible to love someone you’ve never met? asks Rosalind. Stephen feels like an old friend to me, says Auntie Em.

Colbert isn’t trying to put on a good interview. He’s an open book, simply speaking from the heart (which, ironically, is the one key to a good interview). The man may have nothing to prove, but he does have something to say.