Let Dogs and Little Children Teach Us
Proper 5A-26
Immanuel Lutheran, Chicago
A stray Boston Terrier mut called Stubby served in the US Army during the First World War, where he warned soldiers of gas attacks and located wounded men. He served for 18 months, participated in 17 battles and became one of the world’s most decorated war dogs. He received one gold medal, two Purple Hearts and a promotion to the rank of sergeant. It’s not hard to find stories of other canine heroes – dogs who put their lives on the line to save others.
Scientists in Budapest Hungary tested dogs, cats, and two-year-olds to learn whether each would help people in trouble. They hid objects in a room. Then sent their caregivers to search for them. “It didn’t matter what the object was, more than 75 per cent of the dogs and the children either gestured towards the hidden item or went to retrieve it. They didn’t have any special training. There wasn’t anything in it for them. They were, it seems, just happy to help.” The cats? Not so much. In your moment of crisis trust a cat to be content laying someplace comfortable, looking superior. (“Experts tested whether cats would help humans in trouble. The results were brutal,” BBC Science Focus Magazine, Special issue: June 2026)
I’m not trying to start a war between cat people and dog people. All pets are precious. (But, of course, dogs are the best!) I simply want to draw a contrast to illustrate the kind of love Jesus models for us in today’s gospel. Jesus looked beyond my faults and saw my need. Faith must be active in love, or it is not the true faith, but rather, it is bad religion. Bad religion reveals itself by separating people into two categories—those who are worthy of compassion and those who are not. When it comes to faith, we must strive to be more like dogs and less like cats.
Today’s gospel is a story about three untouchables. We watch Jesus interact with three different people who the righteous religious people at that time considered so unworthy that literally, they could not even be touched without incurring the risk of becoming unclean yourself—like their sin would rub off on you.
Touching the tax collector, the woman suffering from hemorrhages, and/or the dead girl are violated the purity codes of Jesus’ day. Jesus broke the rules. He rewrote the codes. He showed us that to embody the radical mercy of God, we must reach beyond the boundaries of social sin, disease, even of death, to heal where we most hurt. When religion becomes an obstacle to mercy, then it is time to change our religion.
Jesus quotes the prophet Hosea, “But go and learn what it means: ‘I want mercy and not sacrifice.’ (Matt. 9:13; see also Matt. 12:7, both quoting Hos 6:6). Worship must inspire us to help one another, or it is no better than a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal (1 Cor. 13:1). It’s not so complicated. See the need, respond to the need. Even dogs and small children know this instinctively. Bad religion promotes self-righteousness and judgementalism which gets in the way of loving our neighbor as Jesus would have us do.
Sadly, there is a lot of bad religion going around today. The dynamic is the same though the list of people categorized as untouchables has changed. They teach us that empathy is bad and that violence toward immigrants, people of color, women, queer and trans people are good.
Jesus says to Matthew. “Follow me.” He said to the woman, “daughter, your faith has made you well.” He took the little girl by the hand and she got up. Jesus calls the dead into life and the worthless into communion with God and with us. This is the faith into which we have been baptized.
Finley Warden affirms that faith today upon completion of two years of study. Finley wrote a poem incorporated into a work of art for his confirmation project. (You’ll find it on page 15 of your worship folder.) He was inspired by Matthew 22:34-40, the Great Commandment—especially Jesus’ teaching to love your neighbor as yourself. Finley writes, “Each and every person deserves to be accepted, no matter their beliefs, gender, or ethnicity. People should be treated they way you want to be treated.” The love of God does not compel us but instead invites us to participate in care for each other and the earth.
For the past two days, Nate Weaver, Marcia Smith and I were in St. Charles, IL attending the Metro Chicago Synod Assembly. (Nate and Marcia will give a brief report on all the goings-on during the announcements next Sunday.) One highlight I will share is that we elected a new bishop. Pastor Erik Christianson of Trinity Lutheran in Evanston begins service on September 1st. One of the things the bishop-elect shared with us was his experience growing up with a special-needs sister who taught him about love, human dignity, and the fallacy of self-sufficiency. We are stronger together. We are better, more human, and more faithful to the way of Jesus when we love our neighbor as ourselves and not for what we can get out of them.
Just look at the example of Matthew in today’s gospel. His interaction with Jesus is the opposite of the transactional encounters that dominated life up to that point. Jesus doesn’t strike a deal with Matthew that he will suddenly become worthy of communion with God only if he does certain things on Jesus’ behalf. He doesn’t make any promises at all. The First Nations Version of the bible, an indigenous translation of the New Testament renders Jesus’ call to Matthew as, “Come and walk the road with me.” It’s an invitation to a journey, a path. Throughout the tradition, we’ve often seen these words as command and obedience. But then it’s easy to forget the flow of love present in this call. Our religion makes us aloof and superior rather than helpful and compassionate.
This is the challenge that Matthew takes up when he responds, not with words, but with actions. He stands up, leaves behind the tax-collector’s table, and in consenting to follow, begins to follow Jesus’ way of the cross.
You don’t have to be perfect to walk this road. In fact, it might work out better if you’re not. Jesus sees Matthew. He doesn’t see Matthew, the tax collector. He sees a full human being. He sees someone who is more than he appears. Each of us comes into adulthood with a false self that must be dismantled. The small ego self in us must be replaced with the larger self that is who we are in relationship with God.
Let the little children and dogs teach you. “There’s a wideness in God’s mercy, like the wideness of the sea…There is no place where earth’s sorrows are more felt than up in heaven. No place where earth’s failings have such kindly judgement given.” (ELW #587) This is the way of Jesus. The way of the cross. The way into communion with God and neighbor. The way into life and the abundance of life that stands open and inviting you now.
