Mark 7:24-30 · The Faith of a Syrophoenician Woman
You're a Treasure!
Mark 7:24-30
Sermon
by Leonard Sweet
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“I want to be alone.”

That was the famous declaration made by the early Swedish film star and glamour girl Greta Garbo (1905-1990). But it was that declaration that jinxed her search for solitude. A vast cast of has-been, over-the-hill actors and actresses struggled to stay in focus but swiftly faded out of the limelight and into obscurity. But Garbo, by her very insistence on alone-time, was hounded by media hangers-on until her death in 1990. To get a picture of Greta Garbo remained a paparazzi “holy grail” throughout her life.

We are more alone and less alone these days than ever before. Humans have always lived in communities, in tribes, in families — for protection, for food, for companionship, for love. In the twenty-first century urban living is the norm, with large populations of people gathered around a commercial/communal core. But even as we live lives more closely packed, we are more solitary. Education and economics have made it possible for more people to “make it” on their own. What for centuries had been the culturally and economically determined “norm” — to marry and produce a family in order to survive — is no longer viewed as a necessity. In America, the new norm is singledom. Half of all adults are unmarried, and 15% of those singles live by themselves. In Scandinavia it is estimated that by 2020 half of all “households” will be occupied by only one individual.

But singledom does not mean we are alone. Who out there today is not umbilically connected to the “social network?” E-mail, Facebook, ebay, Instagram, whoever and whatever dot “com.” We are never alone as long as the power grid is up and running. And it is not just when we’re avoiding work or annoying chores by going online. The online “Kindle” advertises itself as the “campfire,” showing a wilderness camping family happily downloading an electronic connection while snuggled in front of a fire in front of their tent. Out-of-bounds, crazy skilled skiers and snowboarders carry cell-phones with tracking beepers in case their off-line adventures cross the line and get them into trouble.

“Getting away from it all” never happens anymore.

The newest “apocalypse” series “Revolution” posits the ultimate disaster of a world, not infested with outer-space invaders, not poisoned by nuclear fallout, but a truly horrifying scenario — a world “gone dark.” In other words, a world without the power grid, a world where we are cut off from all of our electronic connections.

How “alone” would you be in such a place? Do you have commitments and connections that would help support and sustain you without the benefit of electricity? Can you find solidarity in genuine solitude?

In today’s gospel text Jesus seeks solitude and embraces community in the same breath. Leaving “kosher” ground, Jesus travels into Gentile territory. Yet while he is isolated from his “tribe,” from the ritualistically pure community carved out by observant Jews, Jesus has no problem reaching out to the Father. Jesus finds God in time alone or in time together, no matter what the physical circumstances.

Camped out in a “heathen” home, Jesus sought solitude so that he could experience the personal solidarity of the divine-human relationship. Jesus was the only human who has ever gotten that relationship right. When the incarnate Christ singularly sought to speak with God the Father, there was no disconnect.

God created human beings out of divine pleasure so that we could be in God’s presence — so that we might be in a unique and personal relationship with God. One-on-one. God to A-dam. The face-to-face presence of one person — that was God’s final creative desire.

As the incarnate divine, it is this special connection that Jesus represents in complete perfection. And when Jesus himself needed to re-boot that connection, he went apart — so that he would not come a-part. Jesus did not seek solitude to shut out the world. Jesus did not seek solitude to be solitary. Jesus sought solitude to be in solidarity with God. Jesus sought solitude to up the amps of God’s presence. In his alone-time Jesus never was truly alone, or lonely. It was when he was alone that Jesus stood most fully before the Father and felt the fullness of divine love.

We mistake solitude for alone-ness. We think solitude is solitary. The truth is solitude is relationally charged, since it is time alone with God, which is the relationship for which we were created.

Outside the garden the rest of humanity has a fractured view of solitude and aloneness. We crave the internet connection because we think that when the power goes off . . . the power goes off. Not so. When we stand before our Creator, the power goes on full force. The power of connection. The power of relationship. The power of love. If we can find the time to stand alone and in prayer before God — we are never alone. We are plugged into the life-sustaining force of the universe. We are interfaced with our Creator, Redeemer, Sustainer.

Have you ever reflected on the fact that . . . There are no chairs at the Lord's Table? The posture of faith is not sitting, but kneeling down, standing up or walking toward. Where you find “sitting” most often in the New Testament is in the context of heaven. But God gives us earnests of eternity, foretastes of the future, when we, like King David, “went in and sat before the Lord” (1 Chronicles 17:16). It’s these sit-down sessions, these sit-down solitudes with our Lord that enable us to stand up for truth, walk toward each other in need, and kneel down in service to the least, last and lost. It’s these sit-down solitudes with God that stir our souls to sing, in the music of Porgy and Bess, “Oh, Lord, I’m so happy that I can’t sit down.”

The longest living and largest living things still on this earth don’t swim in the oceans. They stand in the forests. Redwoods grow to immense size, their girth recorded by countless of photos of cars being driven through tunnels bored through their trunks. To grow to those immense dimensions takes centuries, not seasons. Yet Redwoods don’t have an enormous single taproot that anchors them into the earth. Trees that grow that way inevitably get shoved over, uprooted, by some random great gust of wind when the soil is drenched.

Redwoods survive and live to grow to great heights, because they spread their roots out. Redwoods create a network, and “internet” root system, holding each other up, strengthening the soil in which they are standing. They are singular, but they are completely connected. They are alone, monarchs of the forest, but they are kept upright and strong by their relationships.

When I was growing up the #1 column in the newspaper was not the editorial, or some political commentary, but “Dear Abby.” Most people picked up the paper off the porch, and opened it to read “Dear Abby.” Even men sneaked peeks at the advice column before checking the sports section. The advice column was written by Pauline Phillips, who picked the pen name Abigail from the Book of 1 Samuel as her first name in “Abigail Van Buren.”

One of the columns I saved and stuffed in my Bible was from someone who signed her letter “Depressed.” It read:

Dear Abby: About a month ago we had a flash flood, and I lost nearly all the treasures I had saved for forty-five years. Albums filled with pictures and snapshots, letters, clippings none of which can be replaced. I had them stored in plastic containers, and when I opened them, all I found was mud and water! Part of my life is gone. I am heartsick over it. I am sixty and have had a very happy life. Our children are married and gone, and there are just the two of us.

I’ve tried to keep busy and not dwell on my loss, but it is on my mind constantly. I wish I could forget this terrible nightmare. Somehow I feel that you can help me. Abby, have you ever lost any of your treasures? And if you have, how did you get over it?

Signed, “Depressed.”

Here is “Dear Abby’s” response:

Yes, dear, I lost my beautiful mother (she was only fifty-seven), and a few years later I lost a wonderful father (he was sixty-two). And not a day passes that I don’t thank God for letting me have my parents for as long as I did. I know many who were not nearly as blessed as I, and I think of those who have survived a far greater tragedy -losing their children. Now, what were you saying about clippings and pictures and other ‘treasures?’

The ultimate “treasures” in life are our relationships our relationship with God, with each other, with ourselves, and with creation. As you leave this morning, turn to someone special, look them in the eye, and say, “You’re a treasure.” And the next time you’re alone with God, greet your Creator with these words: “My Lord, My Treasure.”


COMMENTARY

The healing stories in today’s gospel reading put meat on the bones of Jesus’ long argument with the Pharisees over what is “clean” and “unclean,” and where the true source of “defilement is found (7:1-23). Having declared that defilement is not from things outside the body, Jesus demonstrates his unconcern with ritual purity by journeying into Gentile territory.

The region of Tyre, west and north of Galilee, had vigorously fought against the Jews during the Maccabean Revolt and was dubbed by first century Jewish historian Josephus to be “our bitterest enemies” (Ag.Ap.1.13). If there was any region that the Pharisees would have deemed particularly “unclean” it would have been Tyre. Jesus steps right in it!

Not only does Jesus intentionally enter Gentile territory, he appears to go to that pagan place in an effort to find some solitude. Elsewhere when Jesus separates himself from his disciples and the crowds it is for solitary prayer and spiritual closeness with the Father. In Mark 7:24 Jesus seeks that solitude in a pagan household (who else would let a Syrophoenicean woman in the door). Jesus wants to be alone in an “unclean” place.

Not only that, but the physical and spiritual space Jesus sought is soon interrupted. News of his presence gets out and Jesus’ solitude is abruptly ended by the appearance of a wholly unacceptable individual. Not only is this visitor an unaccompanied woman; she is further identified as a Gentile and a Syrophoenicean. To grasp the disastrous nature of that description, one need only to recall that the other pagan, Syrophoenicean female mentioned in the Bible is the infamous Jezebel (1 Kings 16:31-32). With such a dreadful identity is it any wonder that this woman has a child who houses an “unclean spirit.” The woman and her family are ideal poster children for the term “defiled.”

As shocking as is this woman’s genealogy and boldness to first century Jewish sensibilities, twenty-first century Christian readers are also shocked by the seemingly callus and insulting response Jesus first makes to her request. Nowhere else in the gospels does Jesus respond to a plea for help with such an apparent outright dismissal. Nowhere else in the gospels does Jesus employ such insulting language. Jesus’ reply seems not even to acknowledge the woman’s request, focusing instead on her identity as a “dog” (“kynarion”). Commentators have tried to temper the harshness of this response by noting that “Kynarion” is a diminutive ter, “little dogs,” a description applied to house pets as opposed to feral street dogs. But in Jewish tradition to be compared to a “dog” was always an insult — an identification with unclean, carrion-eating mongrels.

If the first century audience was stunned by the presence of the woman, and twenty-first century readers are shocked by Jesus’ harsh language, the feisty reply of the woman surprises everyone. She acknowledges that the Jewish people, the “children” (“teknon”) of God Jesus refers to in his first response are indeed the first served at the table. But she then offers a new insight — that once the children are fed the “crumbs,” the bounty which still remains, is available to the “dogs under the table.”

The woman’s reply is stunning in its audacity. It is brilliant in its logic. It is shocking in its depth of theological insight. She acknowledges the “firstborn” privilege of Israel, yet she also recalls for Jesus the biblical mandate that God’s servant will also be “a light to the nations.” (Isaiah 49:6)

The final “shocking” element of this encounter is that Jesus appears to admit he has been bested by her argument. He “gives in” and grants her plea, announcing “the demon has left your daughter.” Matthew’s telling of this encounter stresses the woman’s “faith” “Woman, great is your faith” (15:28). But Mark’s text is more focused on action — the action the woman takes both physically and verbally to get Jesus’ healing help.

The second healing story in today’s text continues to find Jesus in Gentile territory. In fact Jesus is described as going from Tyre “by way of Sidon” to “the region of the Decapolis.” This is the most meandering route possible, essentially describing a one hundred twenty mile tour of that Gentile region. It would be like going from Washington to Richmond by way of Philadelphia. By the time Jesus reaches the Decapolis he could say with Johnny Cash, “I’ve been everywhere, man!”

Although Jesus is in the midst of a crowd when the deaf, speech-impaired man is brought to him, the healing of this man once again stresses the solitary nature, the one-on-one encounter, between Jesus and a member of the “unclean” population. Jesus separates the man away from the crowd and deals with him “in private” (“kat idian”), a term used everywhere else in Mark to describe Jesus’ secluded moments with his disciples (4:34; 6:31-32; 9:2, 28; 13:3).

Once they are alone Jesus focuses fully on the man’s needs, touching his ears and administering spittle, a body fluid that while usually deemed “unclean” was also accepted in Greco-Roman and Jewish practice as having healing powers when administered by a powerful individual. Jesus’ touch, the physical application of spit to the man’s tongue, his heavenward “sigh” (“estanaxen”), and the utterance of “Ephpatha” (Aramaic for “be opened”) are all gestures that would meet with this Gentile man’s expectations of what a miraculous healer might do in order to evoke healing power.

In other words, Jesus behaves in a way that would make the pagan deaf man most comfortable and open to his presence and power. Jesus, who can heal from a distance without a word, pokes his fingers in ears, smears on spittle, and utters “magic” words, in order to meet this man’s need for healing. The physicality in this healing — touching the ears, touching the tongue, seems to be specially adopted for a hearing impaired individual. Jesus lets the man know exactly what he is focused upon in basic, first century, “sign language.”

Ironically once the man regains his hearing and speech the whole crowd fails to “hear” Jesus’ directive to silence and can’t shut-up about the miracle. The final difference between “Israel” and “the nations”,” between Jew and Gentile, is erased. But not in a good way. Jesus had implored silence for his Jewish healing miracles and his instructions had been disregarded. Similarly with this Gentile crowd, his mandate was ignored. The focus of both Jew and Gentile is fixed upon the physical, the miracle. Both groups miss the message about the man who stands before them, and the true mission of the Messiah.

ChristianGlobe Networks, Inc., Leonard Sweet Sermons, by Leonard Sweet