Potentially Problematic: Foreign (Mark 7:24-37)
Ordinary Time
Jesus left that place and went
into the region of Tyre. He didn’t want anyone to know that he had entered a
house, but he couldn’t hide. 25 In fact,
a woman whose young daughter was possessed by an unclean spirit heard about him
right away. She came and fell at his feet. 26 The
woman was Greek, Syrophoenician by birth. She begged Jesus to throw the demon
out of her daughter. 27 He responded, “The children have to be fed first. It isn’t right to take
the children’s bread and toss it to the dogs.”
28 But she answered,
“Lord, even the dogs under the table eat the children’s crumbs.”
29 “Good
answer!” he said. “Go on home. The demon has already left your
daughter.” 30 When she returned to her house, she
found the child lying on the bed and the demon gone.
31 After leaving the
region of Tyre, Jesus went through Sidon toward the Galilee Sea through the
region of the Ten Cities. 32 Some people brought to
him a man who was deaf and could hardly speak, and they begged him to place his
hand on the man for healing. 33 Jesus took him away
from the crowd by himself and put his fingers in the man’s ears. Then he spit
and touched the man’s tongue. 34 Looking into
heaven, Jesus sighed deeply and said, “Ephphatha,” which
means, “Open up.” 35 At once, his ears opened, his
twisted tongue was released, and he began to speak clearly.
36 Jesus gave the people strict orders not to tell anyone. But the more he tried to silence them, the more eagerly they shared the news. 37 People were overcome with wonder, saying, “He does everything well! He even makes the deaf to hear and gives speech to those who can’t speak.” (CEB)
Some days are just too much.
In the first
23 verses of this chapter of Mark, we get yet another confrontation with the
Pharisees. They had seen some of Jesus’
disciples eating without ritualistically purifying their hands first and had
cried foul—literally. It escalated as
the Pharisees followed Jesus into the public square and called Him out on not
living by the rules of their culture.
Jesus replied with yet another teaching, yet another unpacking of the
Scripture they all knew, and said, “Listen to me, all of you, and
understand. 15 Nothing outside of a person can
enter and contaminate a person in God’s sight; rather, the things that come out
of a person contaminate the person.”[1]
Leaving that
confrontation, Jesus went to a house where His disciples were, a place where He
could breathe—and immediately His disciples were asking Him the same questions
as the Pharisees.
It was too
much.
Our section
today begins with the fact that “Jesus left that place and went into the region
of Tyre. He didn’t want anyone to know that he had entered a house.” It was, in a way, flight; flight from the
Pharisees, from His disciples who never seemed to understand, from the crowds
of people seeking healing of all kinds, from the life of being Jesus. Just a moment of peace.
But it was not
to last.
“In fact, a
woman whose young daughter was possessed by an unclean spirit heard about him
right away. She came and fell at his
feet.”
This is one of
the very important Gospel texts that reminds us of our Christian belief that
yes, Jesus was fully God—and Jesus was 100% human. He was human enough to have grown up with
racial prejudices and cultural expectations; He was human enough to be
frustrated with people who didn’t hear Him, or didn’t listen; and He was human
enough to snap at a woman who was one thing too many.
“The children
have to be fed first. It isn’t right to take the children’s bread and toss it
to the dogs.”
It is a thing
of wonder that it is this person who comes to fall at Jesus’ feet. She was in every way someone He was trained
to see as less: she was a woman, she was
a Gentile, she was seeking Him out when He wanted to be alone—and when He
actually was alone, so it was culturally inappropriate for the two of them to
be together. She is inescapably unclean,
and she is begging for a daughter whose demon-possessed state made her unclean,
too, and it is so very human of Jesus that He snaps at her, likening her to a
dog. Never mind that He had just told
both the Pharisees and His own disciples that it was never anything external
that could make someone unclean, unworthy; never mind that being possessed by a
demon was something He had already healed in fellow Jews; never mind that this
was a mother pleading for the safety of her child, a thing universal in human
cultures and so painfully close to the heart of God. This very human Jesus saw only an imposition
and lashed out at this Greek woman, this dog.
Because this
is an English translation, we may be tempted to see this as a tame insult, but
it was not. Rev. Todd Weir reminds us
that, “Jews considered dogs to be scavengers and unclean animals. Every
reference to dogs in the Bible is negative”.[2] This is Jesus’ upbringing coming hard to
bear, seeing not a person in need but an outsider, a foreigner, an annoyance in
His space. “How dare you ask for My
time, you who are no better than a dog.”
It is one of
the strongest moments in the gospels that she says, “Fine, but even dogs get
scraps.” Aside from the fact that I love
her quick wit, this passage is a forceful reminder that all creatures, all creatures
are worthy of the barest level of care simply by virtue of being alive as
creations of God. And in her refusal to
be dismissed, in her understanding that whatever name gets thrown at her there
is still the matter of her daughter, the woman gets through. She makes Jesus see past His tiredness, His
frustration, His prejudice, and Jesus gets it—gets it so fiercely that He
almost thanks her for the rebuttal with His response; “Good answer!”
There are some who see this as Jesus
having tested the woman, but why? She
had already done the work of seeking Him out.
I prefer to think that He is surprised enough to listen, He Who has ears
to hear, and understand that this need is real no matter what He might think of
the person asking it. Jesus
long-distance heals her daughter, and then, having learned, He leaves that
house to go even deeper into Gentile territory. When He is brought another unclean person,
another outsider to a culture that did not understand those who were deaf and
mute, He doesn’t flinch.[3] He heals the man as the man’s friend has
asked.
“The
expansiveness of God’s love, God’s healing, God’s grace will not be limited by
any location, any laws,” writes Professor Karoline Lewis. “It will not be diminished by any creed or
decree. It will not be regulated by the many reasons we come up with as to why
God could not possibly be God.”
Last week, the
Biden administration announced plans to receive 50,000 refugees from
Afghanistan as the Taliban take over the governmental structure.[4] This is a cup of water in an ocean of need;
the International Rescue Committee estimates that there are 18.4 million people
in need of humanitarian aid in Afghanistan.[5] After twenty years of our war ravaging their
lands, the Afghan people need our help and some need our protection.
Yet, as with any time we consider
refugees here in the United States, there has been uproar about who is allowed
here, about whether they will bring danger with them, about what kind of room
our land or our economy or our hearts have for these foreigners. It is amazing that many of the voices
shouting the loudest against refugee resettlement claim Christianity, this
faith that follows a Palestinian man Who spent His early childhood as a refugee
in Egypt. Christian author Stephen Mattson
pointed out on Tumblr, “American Christianity has become so misguided that
saying ‘Jesus loves immigrants and refugees’ is interpreted as partisan
rhetoric rather than divine truth.”[6]
“The children have to be fed
first.” The idea that we in the United
States do not have enough, especially for the people running from the very
situation our nation helped create, is not only absurd but dangerously
cruel. We, too, must be reminded that
“even the dogs under the table eat the children’s scraps.” If we cannot do the bare minimum of offering
safety and respite; if we are going to get caught up in the fear of scarcity
that forces us to prioritize people as though God sees any of us as more worthy
than another, we must ask ourselves how we have stepped so far away from
Christ’s example. We who claim the name
Christian must be the first to say that all are welcome in the Kingdom without
end because it is our Christ Who showed us that no one is too foreign or too
much of an outsider for the hope of health, for the promise of security, for
the grace of God’s love.
We cannot, of course, single-handedly
change international foreign policy, but waiting until someone else picks up
the thread is not faithful. My friend
Casey, who is a very wise human, said to me, “Christianity is such an activism
religion…Taking responsibility for the actions of a government we elect…[is]
making sure people are aware and are supporting policies and attitudes that
embrace a modicum of responsibility.”[7]
“Good answer,” said Jesus, validating
the woman who dared everything to find healing for her daughter. What shall our answer be? Perhaps it is the donation of money to
something like the United Methodist Committee on Relief—UMCOR—which has been in
partnership with Global Ministries to help strengthen Afghan communities since
the 1960s; you can donate online at UMCMission.org.[8] Perhaps it is assembling hygiene kits for
Church World Service for people caught in the in-between spaces as refugees.[9] Perhaps it is learning more about the causes
of the forty years of strife and our own twenty-year battle on Afghan soil,
stepping past the idea that wars are someone else’s problem and tapping into
the rich history of the country. Perhaps
it is mindful prayer that pours blessing on the frightened and the wounded as
they grapple with a nation in turmoil.
Perhaps it is writing to a Congress or Senate representative and holding
our leaders to the representation of our Mother of Exiles, the Statue of
Liberty that asks the world, “Give me your tired, your poor, / Your huddled
masses yearning to breathe free”.[10]
What a terrifically Christian
sentiment, that. And we remember it all
the more today, on a day in which we take communion together in all the
miraculous oddity of this sacrament.
This is a table to which we invite everyone and bar no one; this is a
table that we do not set but at which God makes room for all who come seeking
Him. This is a table where there is no
concept of dogs sent away but of welcoming all of creation to the unity of Body
and blood, following the example again of Jesus the Christ Who ate with the
ones who would betray Him and washed their feet with love.
Ephphatha; open up your mouths to tell of the
good news that all are welcome, that none are too foreign for God’s grace. Open up your ears to hear the stories of all
God’s children speaking of the ways God moves throughout the world, on our
shores and far beyond. Open up your
hearts to the good answer that love is given freely, given without fear or
reservation or membership cards. Church,
let us open up that we, too, may hear that our response is a good answer. Amen.
[1]
Mark 7:14–15, CEB.
[4]
A
look inside Ramstein Air Force Base in Germany where thousands of Afghan
refugees await processing - CBS News
[7]
Discord conversation, September 4, 2021.
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