Mark 7:24-30 · The Faith of a Syrophoenician Woman
Did Jesus Say What I Think He Said?
Mark 7:24-37 · James 2:1-9 · Isaiah 35:5-6 · Psalm 146
Sermon
by Thomas C. Willadsen
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This morning’s gospel lesson may be the most troubling passage in the gospels because Jesus said a lot of provocative things to the religious authorities. The crowds were delighted with the clever ways he always seemed to best them in battles of wits. This morning’s gospel passage is different — very different.

Jesus and his disciples needed a break. Just before today’s passage begins, Jesus had a controversy with some Pharisees. It appears that the Pharisees had traveled from Jerusalem to Gennesaret because they heard that his disciples did not wash their hands properly. We know the Pharisees were fanatics about this sort of thing, what we often overlook is the lengths the Pharisees would go to prove that they were righteous, blameless, innocent, and others, in a word, weren’t. In this case the length they went to was ninety miles. Let that sink in. A committee of leaders of the temple traveled, over land, ninety miles to point out someone else’s error. What do you take so seriously that you’re willing to walk for a whole week or more ? In fairness to the Pharisees, they may have ridden donkeys or maybe even camels. What would you endure several days’ worth of saddle sores to do?

In the ensuing battle of wits, Jesus showed several ways the Pharisees were hypocrites, and he delighted the crowd who had come to observe the contest. He even went on to say that what one puts into one’s body is nowhere near as important as what comes out of people’s hearts. Here Mark interjected that in making this statement, Jesus declared all foods clean. Anyway, it appears that the debate had wearied Jesus, so he and the disciples left town and went into the region of Tyre. Tyre is a city on the Mediterranean, about fifty miles from Gennesaret, where Jesus had his conversation with the Pharisees. Jesus was putting some serious distance between him and the site of his most recent discussion. He was probably weary, if not from the Pharisees, certainly from the fifty-mile trip. He wanted to lie low, to escape notice. It didn’t work.

The gospel lesson begins with Jesus’ desire to get away from his adoring fans. (I always imagine scenes from the Beatles’ “Hard Day’s Night” when I picture the throngs hounding Jesus at every moment.) The woman who approached Jesus was not a Jew; she was a resident of the coastal area where Jesus and his disciples had gone. This is one of very few places where there is an actual dialogue between Jesus and someone else. There’s the woman at the well in John’s gospel and something like dialogue during Jesus’ “trial,” but in this passage there’s something like banter, or if looked at properly, it is banter. I’ll explain what I mean by “looked at properly.”

On its face, Jesus’ response to the woman appeared to be like a snippy waitress who snapped, “Not my table,” to guests at a restaurant waiting for service. The waitress could serve the guests but for some reason not visible to the guests, she chose not to.

Is this something you would expect from your Lord and Savior, how he responded to a woman who had knelt before him, begging for her daughter’s deliverance from demonic possession? Jesus appeared icily aloof. Or maybe he was still weary from his run-in with the Pharisees. He told the woman that his mission was to “feed” the lost children of Israel, his people. To give her attention, while neglecting them would be like taking food off the children’s table and giving it to dogs. Scholars debate whether the Greek word Jesus used is closer to “puppies” than “dogs,” no matter the precise term, it is offensive. It does not stretch the text at all to say that Jesus practically called the woman a “B word.” And that would have been every bit as offensive in the original setting as it would be in ours. What can we make of this Jesus? The Jesus in this passage who heard of a need for healing, yet who declined to respond?

Sit with that question for a while, as we look at this morning’s other readings. The psalm says:

The Lord lifts up those who are bowed down; 
The Lord loves the righteous.
The Lord watches over the strangers; 
he upholds the orphan and the widow….

That sounds a lot like a certain woman from Syro-Phoenician woman we just heard about. If the Lord lifts, loves, watches over, and upholds the vulnerable, what did Jesus think he was doing?

Then there was James, possibly Jesus’ biological brother, who wrote this:

My brothers and sisters, do you with your acts of favoritism really believe in our glorious Lord Jesus Christ? For if a person with gold rings and in fine clothes comes into your assembly, and if a poor person in dirty clothes also comes in, and if you take notice of the one wearing the fine clothes and say, “Have a seat here, please,” while to the one who is poor you say, “Stand there,” or, “Sit at my feet,” have you not made distinctions among yourselves, and become judges with evil thoughts? Listen, my beloved brothers and sisters. Has not God chosen the poor in the world to be rich in faith and to be heirs of the kingdom that he has promised to those who love him? But you have dishonored the poor. Is it not the rich who oppress you? Is it not they who drag you into court? Is it not they who blaspheme the excellent name that was invoked over you?

You do well if you really fulfill the royal law according to the scripture, “You shall love your neighbor as yourself.” But if you show partiality, you commit sin and are convicted by the law as transgressors. James 2:1-9, (NRSV).

What would the conversation around the dinner table be that night after Jesus insulted a woman of a different ethnic group? Do you think James would get on his brother’s case for showing partiality? By James’ logic, Jesus had convicted himself. Hmm, maybe Jesus was out of line when he talked to that lady….”

Then there’s this choice bit from the prophet Isaiah:

Then the eyes of the blind shall be opened, and the ears of the deaf unstopped; then the lame shall leap like a deer, and the tongue of the speechless sing for joy. Isaiah 35:5-6 (NRSV)

Jesus got around to making the deaf hear and giving speech to the mute in the second part of today’s gospel reading.

The Lord looks out for widows and orphans; the faithful follower of Jesus shows no partiality and knows to love one’s neighbor as oneself…. Yet, Jesus insulted a woman who had come to beg for her daughter’s restoration.

We get the happy ending, the woman’s daughter’s demon was expelled from her body, so maybe we should just leave this scene alone and write it off as Jesus not being at his best because he was weary. Such a reading certainly supports the “fully human” side of his identity.

It may be that Jesus was defeated in this war of words. The woman— we never learn her name — out-bantered a guy who bantered pretty well. The Big Guy recognized he had been beaten and as a concession or out of respect — one banterer to another — he healed the daughter. Think about that for a minute; the Pharisees, the Sadducees, the scribes, the teachers, the priests, the religious authorities, they never out-foxed Jesus in a battle of wits. This kneeling, devoted mother must be pretty darn special. She won! You have to admire her strategy: rather than pushing back against being called a dog (or worse), she rolled with the insult and turned it back to Jesus. It was as though she was saying, “Jesus, treating me like a dog is just fine, it will be sufficient to heal my daughter; my faith tells me so.”

So maybe Jesus’ healing the daughter was his way of saying, something like, “Well played, worthy opponent!”

There’s another lens through which to view this encounter, one that gives the woman her due, but also presented Jesus in a way that maintains our expectation of his kindness and openness. Elton Trueblood is the theologian who first exposed me to this idea. Trueblood believed that from the start, Jesus entered his encounter with the woman with a certain playfulness, an awareness that society’s conventions would lead him to ignore or spurn the woman’s request. Instead of making fun of the woman, he and she are making a statement about the culture in which they both lived which would expect, or even demand, Jesus keeping the woman at a distance. The difficulty here is we have to provide the twinkle in the woman’s eye and the arch in Jesus’ eyebrow, as together they subvert the cultural expectations that surround them.

Here’s the best example I can give to a modern occurrence of this. My junior year in college, I had an internship that took me off campus Monday through Thursday between 8 am and 5 pm. I needed to drop a course and add a course, but the office where I needed to do that was not open on Friday. I was stuck. I went to the office anyway on a Friday morning, and explained the situation to the receptionist in the office. She hemmed a little, “Well, I don’t know… I guess this once… you have an honest face….”

“You’re not about to cut through the red tape for me, are you? That’s either unprecedented, or it’s never been done before!”

This entire dialogue was a way we could both see the silliness of the system that we both operated in. My response was even something like a compliment, as though I was saying, “You know, for a pencil pushing bureaucrat, you’re not all bad.” Our conversation could have gone terribly wrong — and I would not have been able to drop “Masterpieces of French Literature,” if she had not conspired, wordlessly, with me to go off script and bend the rules. I had to promise that I’d read “Madame Bovary,” but it was worth it.

Imagine Jesus and the woman having that kind of conversation. It shows a playful side to Jesus and the woman’s willingness to play along makes the story all the richer.

CSS Publishing Company, Inc., Gratitude on the prairie: cycle B sermons for Proper 18-Thanksgiving based on the gospel texts , by Thomas C. Willadsen