Mark 7:24-37
How often we strive to soften the edges of what we find
uncomfortable.
I wonder: Have you ever found yourself trying to fix a story
that casts someone you care about in a somewhat unflattering light? You describe the person in favorable
terms, you paint them in glowing colors, you emphasize or even exaggerate their
positive attributes, while minimizing their faults or ignoring them altogether.
Have you ever rearranged the details of a story to make the
main actor – whether it is you or someone you know – a bit more sympathetic, a
bit more palatable?
In Martin Luther’s explanation to the 8th commandment, the
one about bearing false witness, Luther goes on to explain the spirit of the
commandment this way: “we are to come to (our neighbor’s) defense, speak well
of our neighbor, and interpret everything they do in the best possible light.”
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| The Woman of Canaan by Michael Angelo Immenraet, 17th century |
Well, if Martin Luther said it, then we must be on the right
track when we whitewash certain – let us say – aspects of a person’s behavior –
especially when that person is Jesus.
That is what
we often do when we read gospel texts like the one we read this morning. We
interpret Jesus’ shocking words and reaction to the Syrophoenician mother’s
request in the best light possible.
By “dogs”
surely Jesus was referring to cute little puppies, not to the fact that the
woman was a Gentile nor suggesting that she was a morally inferior person.
Or, we make excuses for Jesus. He’s been traveling a lot. Surely,
he’s hot and tired. After all Mark makes sure we know that Jesus was wanting to
have some quiet time. Some down time, perhaps. He didn’t want anyone to know he
was there in that house. So, the woman caught him at a bad time, in a bad place.
Surely, cranky Jesus just needs a nap. He is human after all.
Better yet, we translate Jesus’ brush off as a test. It’s
intentional. It is a teaching stratagem.
Jesus was simply testing the woman and doing so in such a way as to pass along
to his disciples something about the importance of faith, maybe even persistence
in faith.
Jesus is the great teacher, after all. And that’s what
teachers do. They teach; on the clock, and off the clock. As for the woman, it
seems she passes the test.
Maybe all of these things do play a role in the emotional
state of Jesus and in his response to the woman’s request. But I wonder if we
don’t actually miss something important when we sweep this story and cranky
Jesus under the rug.
Because frankly, while all of those explanations may serve
to help us feel better about the words Jesus uses, no matter how you slice it,
this story is still hard to understand and uncomfortable to read. It’s like a
hunk of bread stuck in the throat, - a hunk that just doesn’t seem to want to
go down.
Why is it that in that house in Tyre that day, Jesus seems
so unkind, so dismissive, so discriminatory?
We are living in an age where we are particularly sensitive
to the kind of name-calling we see here, - as well we should be. So a red flag goes
up. We disparage this kind of derogatory labeling, we condemn it as just not
acceptable. And we know about such labeling.
Truth be told we’ve probably engaged in it ourselves,
whether in thought, word, or deed.
But lately, derogatory names, images and ideologies have
become flash points for angry protest in our politically correct world. Think
about all the signs of protest that have surrounded us lately: #Blacklivesmatter; #alllivesmatter; #equalopportunityforall;
and this one that I saw yesterday, “treating refugees as the problem is the problem.”
So, trying to make sense of Jesus referring to a desperate
mother who comes to him pleading for relief from suffering for her young
daughter as a dog is confusing and disconcerting.
Is it possible that Jesus himself really just had a lesson
to learn, and that this woman helped him learn it?
My friends, context matters.
The gospel of Mark has been illustrating the tension building
as background is laid for Jesus’ ministry, revealing, bit by bit, “God’s
kingdom has been inaugurated, but is not yet fully realized…” Perhaps even
Jesus himself does not yet fully understand the extent and radical nature of
the kingdom he proclaims, which is nothing less than God’s far-reaching plan
for history.
Jesus lives in a land that is deeply divided, where
fellowship between Jews and Gentiles historically has been forbidden; where
historically, the Jews of Gallilee have been oppressed and subjugated by
foreign powers, even powers from the region of Tyre. Wheat from the Galilean
fields, produced from the hard labor of Galilean farmers makes the bread that
fills the baskets that sit on the tables of prosperous Tyreans, while many
Jewish peasants go hungry.
As he tries to rest in the house in Tyre, a house which sits
in Gentile territory, perhaps Jesus himself is still learning something that
the woman pleads for and hopes for – that the mercies of God extend even now
beyond the boundaries of ethnic Israel.
As we have collected the stories early in the gospel of
Mark, they illustrate the growth of Jesus’ ministry – his authority in teaching
and preaching being questioned and affirmed; all those miracles Jesus has
performed – healing, casting out unclean spirits and demons; his feeding
thousands of people with just a couple of fish
and a handful of loaves of bread; his walking on water - and we have grown in
our understanding of Jesus as the Son of Man who has come into this world to
transform lives and hearts.
Now it seems that Jesus’ mission must break down the boundaries observed throughout the
centuries between God’s Chosen people of Israel, and the Gentiles.
In an episode just before this story, Jesus articulates a
reorientation of the religious law and traditions, as he and his disciples argued
with the Pharisees over the ceremonial practices and the social mores surrounding
the consumption of food – mores that in fact create separation.
Jesus said that it is not what is on the outside of a person
that defiles them but what is on the inside. What is in the heart of a person
is then what really counts and is made evidence by their actions, the words
they say – the things they do.
We don’t know what the woman thought about her own
worthiness of God’s attention or Jesus’ time. But she demonstrated through her
actions, absolute conviction that her beloved daughter was deserving of Jesus’
healing.
Whatever Jesus may have meant by his initial response to her
in today’s gospel text, we know that one way to disarm criticism is to agree
with the critic.
So the woman doesn’t express outrage at Jesus’ statement,
nor does she argue with him. "I am a dog,” she agrees, “but even the dogs
eat the crumbs that fall from their masters table." In other words, perhaps, "I know I don't
deserve a thing from you. I am no better than a dog in your world, but even
dogs receive better treatment than you're giving me. Can't you spare a few
crumbs of grace? I'm not asking for myself, but for my daughter."
This woman may not fully understand the nature of Jesus’
mission either, but for herself – for her daughter - her hope and her trust in
Jesus is all she has and all that matters. And with a word, Jesus performs the
healing she requests.
The change this encounter provoked within Jesus calls us to
reflect on the power our own encounters with people who are ‘other’ can have on
our own understanding of the Kingdom of God and who it includes. This woman
teaches us about the power—and influence— encounters with strangers,
‘foreigners’, and newcomers can have. They can influence our own understanding
of the limitlessness of God’s grace.
Folks we don’t yet know, people from different walks of life
and backgrounds, and peoples of all nations have the ability to stretch our
perspective, and teach us about ourselves, themselves, the world, and God.
Jesus himself shows us the way to allowing our hearts and our actions be
softened and swayed by the hope and the need of strangers.
We remember that each and every person on this earth, even
those we don’t yet know, are created in God’s image, and therefore bear God’s
image in the world.
While Jesus may have a change of heart in an instant, our
hearts—at least my heart—tends to need a bit more work.
But, it is my hope, my trust, my experience, and God’s
promise, that our encounters with the Gospel, and with Gospel-bearers who come
to us as “the other”, do change us, little by little, more and more into
Christ’s likeness.
Just as Jesus was changed by His encounter with the Syrophoenician
woman, by the grace of God, these encounters with “the other” teach us about
the radical nature of God’s love and grace.
The Gospel is more than just a whitewashed image of Jesus as
God’s promise to makes us feel better: The Gospel is an encounter that changes.
It is the living Word of God through which God blesses us.
Through it and through the strangers and neighbors who
challenge us by their otherness, may God grant us eyes, hearts, and minds open
to transformation, that, more and more, we may understand and live the radical
nature of God’s Kingdom, as we share God’s Good News of love and grace with all
the world.
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