I preface this with the words of Hebrews 4:12: “For the
word, the logos, the Word of God is
alive, powerful, and sharper than a two-edged sword, piercing right through to
where soul divides from spirit or breath, to where joint divides from marrow,
discriminating and discerning the thoughts and intents in the inmost self.” And
I remind us that John’s gospel identifies the word, the logos, the Word of God like this: In the beginning was the Word,
and the Word was with God, and the Word was God…In him was life, and the life
was the light of human beings….And the Word was made flesh, and dwelt among
us…full of grace and truth” (John 1: 1, 4, 14).
Jesus walked among us, making God visible, and speaking as the embodied
Word of God to the other human beings he encountered each day. As we listen to what he says to these others,
we can hear as well what he is saying to us, since Jesus has come today to
teach us Himself through the ministry of the Holy Spirit.
Given this foundation, what do we make of the encounter
between Jesus and the Syro-Phoenician woman, told in Mark 7 (and Matthew 15)? Do we see a Jesus
who does not understand that he is God-sent to the whole world? Do we see a
Jesus who is given to testing the faith of a desperate mother before granting
her wish? Do we see a Jesus who is modeling their prejudice in an acted parable
for his disciples, teaching them thereby that God heals Gentiles also, that
Gentiles also can have faith in the one God sends?
I’ve heard it all three ways, and now I want to add a fourth
way that to me solves some of the vexing problems of the above interpretations.
First, I have an a
priori objection to thinking that Jesus participated in the ethnocentrism
of his countrymen. This may be a flaw in my rational self because I do object
to the heresy that Jesus carried all of God’s knowledge around in his human
brain and was just pretending to share in the human condition. So if Jesus was
limited at all, there is no logical necessity that his limitations weren’t also
ethnocentrically Jewish. The preacher I heard positing this interpretation was
making the point that Jesus himself grew in understanding his mission, moving
from the Jewish messiah to the Lamb of God who takes away the sins of the world. But since this is what John the Baptist said at
the beginning of Jesus’s ministry, it is hard for me to believe that John knew
more about what Jesus was called to than Jesus did. Even in Mark’s telling,
Jesus had already healed the Gerasene (Syrian) demoniac, who became the first
non-Jewish bearer of the good news (Mark 5).
Jesus had the following things to say about his ministry,
and only God knows how they fit chronologically with his encounter with this
Gentile woman, but Mark puts them prior.
“Prophets are not without honor except in their hometown,
among their own kin, and in their own house” (Mark 6:4). This makes clear his
understanding that those closest to him were least likely to see his calling
and gifts. “If any place will not
welcome you and they refuse to hear you, as you leave shake the dust off of
your feet as a testimony against them,” Jesus told his disciples (Mark 6:11).
This makes clear his awareness that his own people might well reject the good
news of God’s kingdom. Then he said to the most conscientious religious Jews of
his day, “You have a way of rejecting the commandment of God in order to keep
your tradition” and told his disciples, “It isn’t what a person eats that makes
the person unclean, but the evil that comes from within” (Mark 7: 9, 17,
21). This sets aside the dietary laws
that were a key way to tell Jews from Gentiles.
So when Jesus comes to Tyre to talk with the Gentile woman, he has already
said a number of things that confront the Jews.
He has notified his disciples of the need for “new wineskins” for the
fresh “wine” of the good news. He has announced that his true family are all
those who do what God wills. For these
reasons and more, it seems to me unlikely that Jesus was expressing his own
racism in this moment.
I also have a visceral objection to the “test of faith”
interpretation of this encounter. Jesus
did not ask the Gerasene demoniac if he believed or require him to ask in just
the right way. Jesus forgave the sins of the paralytic and then healed him with
no question at all to the man about his faith (Mark 2). He did not require the
man with the withered hand to express faith, and the man did not even ask for
healing (Mark 3). He stopped the storm on the lake in spite of the disciples’
lack of faith (Mark 4). The two miracles recorded in Mark 5 do include Jesus
commending the woman’s faith that moved her through the crowd to touch Jesus’s
clothes, and encouraging Jairus to believe rather than fear. These two people
and the Gentile woman share the characteristic that all three are desperate and
turn to Jesus with hope. So why would Jesus test the one with the least
background in Jewish faith more than he does the synagogue leader? It seems
unlikely that the one of whom it is prophesied that “a smoking flax he will not
quench” would pour cold water on a mother’s desperate hope while encouraging a
father’s. Thus I can’t see this as Jesus testing the Gentile woman’s faith.
There is some precedent for seeing that the Gospel writers
recorded Jesus’s actions that they found to be rich in metaphoric meaning—and
these acted parables are available to us on many levels. However, I cannot
think of any other of Jesus’s actions that depends on acting out for the
disciples their own prejudices or limitations in a way that treats another
human being negatively. He didn’t sucker people into agreeing with something he
pretended to believe and then punch them with the opposite truth. Look at his
interaction with the Samaritan woman (John 4). Jesus is already talking with
her when the disciples return, even though they may well be scandalized by it.
He doesn’t pretend first to share their distaste for Samaritans and then try to
engage the woman. Additionally, it seems unlikely that Jesus would waste the
opportunity to speak into an individual’s heart in order to make a point at
that individual’s expense. So if this is an acted parable, its interpretation
needs to be something different.
I remember finding out that a short story called “The
Overcoat” by the Russian author Gogol is primarily seen by Russian readers as
humorous and playful (see for example The
Enigma of Gogol by Richard Peace, p. 148: “the author also laughs at his
hero…”). As an American, however, I see it as grotesque and tragic. I miss all
the puns and verbal hijinks of the Russian text, and my reading experience is
linguistically and culturally distant from the reader Gogol wrote for. I read
the translated text like an American.
In reading the Bible, I read like an American heir to the
Judeo-Christian mindset. I have typically adopted the interpretive stance that
sees God’s chosen people as the center of the story and all other peoples as
“inferior.” In fact, I read as if I
myself were one of the chosen people, despite not being Jewish. I am, in fact,
in the same boat as the disciples. So to them (and to me, ironically) this
Gentile woman is by Jewish definition inferior and thus “a dog.”
Then it occurred to me: this encounter takes place on her
turf, in Tyre. She is the one with Roman citizenship. She’s the one from a city
with paved roads. She is the one who would be so unlikely to turn to an
itinerant Jewish carpenter, even one with a reputation for working wonders. She
is likely to be carrying in her heart a sense of social superiority, even
pride. And if this is the case, I need to rethink her approach to Jesus. Matthew records that she followed Jesus,
shouting, “Have mercy on me, Lord, Son of David.” What can she possibly be
meaning by these titles? Does she think
that they must be flattering, since she has heard that Jesus responds to them?
Does she even know who David was? And does she continue shouting because she demands
that they listen to her?
I think it is possible that she views herself as a social
superior, bending because of her desperate need to ask for help from someone
she would be unlikely to speak to under other circumstances. In fact, she is more like me—a privileged
American citizen—and Jesus is more like a recent immigrant, perhaps even a
migrant worker with or without a green card. She uses a title of respect that
she has heard but that means little to her to get Jesus’s attention so he will
grant her desperate request. To her,
Jesus is a means to an end.
His responses are recorded in different form in Matthew and
Mark. In Matthew, he replies, “I was
sent only to the lost sheep of the house of Israel.” Perhaps he even shouts
this back to her. He confronts the ethnic and class issues directly. Jesus has
a pattern of confronting issues directly. Why do you call me good, he asked a
good Jewish man. You know only God is good.
Why do you call me “son of David,” why do you call me “Lord”? These
titles mean nothing to you. They are signs to the house of Israel.
But he does stop walking, and she embodies her desperation
by bowing before him. The Greek word used for this contains in it the idea of a
dog licking the master’s hand. Perhaps
she has caught his hand and is kissing it, perhaps she is crouched over his
feet. I dare say she has not often bowed before a Jew before. She is a Roman
citizen, in a prosperous and vital center of trade and manufacturing, and he is
a provincial manual laborer, not even a citizen. “Help me,” she says.
The words Jesus says next still confront her. Jesus says
this: God sent me first to Israel, a people you feel yourself to be superior
to, but a people God has called God’s children. You understand that it is
inappropriate, it is not a beautiful thing to take what these children need (whom
you care nothing for) and give it to the little dogs under the table, leaving
the children hungry.
She finds a loophole in this parable; she’s a smart woman.
She tells it again, from the dogs’ point of view. Her willingness to be counted
among the little dogs shows that she is willing to accept a humble place in
God’s economy. “Yes, Lord, but we both know that children drop food, and the
little dogs are welcome to scavenge.
There is enough goodness, enough mercy, to feed my child, my dear dear
daughter, to free her from being tormented by evil. Even the little dogs eat
the crumbs.”
Why is this speech counted a sign of great faith? Here is a
woman driven by desperation to accost a socially insignificant itinerant
laborer in public, despite her prejudices and assurance of superiority. As Jesus often, and perhaps always, does, he
pierces to her heart and requires her to come clean. And when they get to the
heart, they discover that she does have faith that there is enough goodness,
enough mercy, for the arrogant, self-satisfied outsider, that the dogs have a
place in God’s economy as well, and that an honest conversation with Jesus is
good for everyone. This is true for us today as well. Bring your desperation
and hope to Jesus and then hear what He says to you. When it pierces to your most inner self, you
will recognize that you have heard the Word of God. Listen, accept, and respond to that Word, and
then do what Jesus tells you to do.
Peace, Richard. The Enigma of Gogol: An Examination of the
Writings of N.V. Gogol and Their Place in the Russian Literary Tradition.
Cambridge: Cambridge Univ. Press, 1981. Google Books.
The last century of Seleucid
rule was marked by disorder and dynastic struggles. These ended in 64 B.C.,
when the Roman general Pompey added Syria and Lebanon to the Roman Empire.
Economic and intellectual activities flourished in Lebanon during the Pax
Romana. The inhabitants of the principal Phoenician cities of Byblos, Sidon,
and Tyre were granted Roman citizenship. These cities were centers of the
pottery, glass, and purple dye industries; their harbors also served as
warehouses for products imported from Syria, Persia, and India. They exported
cedar, perfume, jewelry, wine, and fruit to Rome. Economic prosperity led to a
revival in construction and urban development; temples and palaces were built
throughout the country, as well as paved roads that linked the cities. (http://www.ghazi.de/romegree.html)
1 comment:
I have saved this blog post and return to it with gratitude. The story of the Syro-Phoenician woman lives in my mind along with a dozen or so other stories or parables from the Gospel that have sunk in as indelible and multi-faceted, koan-like, both challenging and comforting, and that feel personal. As a dog owner and grandmother, I am constantly reminded of this parable in my life. I watch the dogs with interest thinking, how am I like them? Am I like them? What is their faith? For example, they don't only scavenge under our dinner table, the look for crumbs left by children and other messy humans at every park we visit, too, and they always find them! This parable is so alive to me. My dogs know from experience that there are always leftovers and their demonstration of expectancy of provision joins nicely with the miracle story of the feeding of the multitudes in my mind and heart.
Your reminder that the woman was a Roman citizen and therefore not accustomed to humbling herself to anyone outside of her social strata opens it for me still further because you have reminded me of the right relationship toward God that is being described in the story. "I lift mine eyes to the hills. From whence does my help come? My help comes from the Lord, maker of the heavens and the earth." I am also reminded of the poet Rumi's "Love Dogs" in which the poet says, "give your life to be one of them." In this parable, though, and thankfully, unlike the master in Rumi's poem, there is a response from the master. He is there and present and kindly giving food to his children. I think the parable challenges me anew to recognize who his children are, for you are right, they are Jews and not Gentiles. More importantly, they are already in right relationship (at least that is what your words inspires me to acknowledge) because they are humble. I do hear discriminatory language in the Gospel stories in Jesus' words. He seems to show a clear preference for those who are poor and left out of the grace of the inn called society. He busies himself tending them and he dwells with them and he says, at least the way I hear it, this is what I'm about and if you want to be with me and have what I've got to give this is where to find it.
Thank you, too, for using the word heresy in the post as you did. I re-read that line and chew on it with gratitude.
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