“Yo, Dawg” (Mark 7:24-37)
The only time it’s okay to call someone a dog is when you might say, “Yo, Dawg. What’s up?” Or if you are fondly referring to the UW Huskies as the “Dawgs.” Otherwise, it’s usually an insult. When I was in high school, we would call the unattractive girls “dogs.” What jerks we were. I have since repented. Many of those girls, in retrospect, were actually very beautiful. They were kind. They were polite. They were friendly. Many of the ones who we called “foxes” were the ones who, in retrospect, were full of themselves … at least that’s the way it appeared. Inside, they probably had their own uncertainties and insecurities, just like everyone else.
But back to my original point: to call someone a dog or to
do so by questioning their parentage is just plain wrong. So where does Jesus get off calling this
woman in today’s Gospel reading a “dog”?
What is he up to?
First off, consider where Jesus was. He had taken a trip to the coastal region of
Tyre and Sidon. This was to the northwest
of Galilee. It was full of Greeks … Gentiles. Maybe Jesus wanted to relax for a bit at the
beach, get away from it all. He found a
house to stay in, a respite from the crowds who demanded his attention. All of a sudden, a woman from shows up at his
doorstep and begs him to cast a demon out of her daughter. But she’s a Gentile. Jesus is a Jew. Jews don’t have anything to do with Gentiles.
And Jesus reflects the teaching of his
day when he says, “Let the children [that is, the Jews] be fed first, for it is
not right to take the children’s bread and throw it to the dogs [that is, the
Gentiles].”
Ouch. That hurts,
Jesus. Not cool. Some commentators have tried to soften the
blow by explaining that Jesus used the word for a “pet dog” here, a domesticated
animal that lives with the family. That may
be the case. Even so, put yourself in
this woman’s shoes. You are a desperate
mother. You have approached this Jewish
healer on behalf of your ailing daughter.
And he blows you off by saying, “Nice doggy. Sorry. No can do.
What I have to offer is for my people only. Now shoo!”
Why would Jesus do such a thing? Is he testing this woman, to see if she would
persist? Is he testing the disciples who
were with him, to see how they would respond to this woman who in the eyes of
the Jews was marginalized, unclean, an outcast?
I’m not really sure. What I do
know is that Mark records for us a remarkable statement of faith: “Yes, Lord,”
says this Syrophoenician woman, “yet even the dogs under the table eat the
children’s crumbs.” Quite a contrast to
the hypocritical Pharisees and scribes he had just encountered earlier in the
chapter.
Now this woman could have responded to Jesus with vitriol: “How
dare you insinuate that I am a dog, you pig!”
That would have been a real zinger, considering how the Jews feel about
pork. But no. Instead, she humbly admits that she has no
right to come to Jesus and ask for anything.
All she wants is some scraps, some leftovers. “Go ahead and feed your children first, Lord. And if there’s anything else you can spare,
please let me have it. Even the scraps
from your table will be powerful enough to heal my daughter.” And they were. Jesus sent her home to see that her daughter
was no longer oppressed by the unclean spirit.
Following this, Jesus heads to another region full of
Gentiles, the Decapolis, east of Galilee.
Here he encounters another person, presumably a Gentile, needing his
help. This man was deaf and had a speech
impediment. His friends brought him to
Jesus and begged him to lay his hand on him.
They recognized the power of the touch of Jesus. Knowing this man cannot hear, Jesus tells him what he’s going to do with some sign language. He puts his fingers in the man’s ears and
spits and touches his tongue to tell him what body parts he’s going to
fix. He looks up to heaven to tell the
man where his healing comes from. And
with one simple word … “Ephphatha” … “Be opened” … the man’s ears were opened
and he was no longer tongue-tied.
What can we learn from these two accounts? We learn first of all that the blessings of
Jesus are for all people … for the marginalized, those deemed unclean by
society, for the outcast. But really,
when it comes right down to it, our sins have marginalized each and every one
of us from God. Our sin makes us unclean. We deserve to be cast out from God’s presence
forever. As sinners, we have no right to
ask God for anything … not even for scraps.
But Jesus became marginalized, unclean, and cast out from
God’s presence for us at the cross. Our
God did indeed “come with vengeance” (Is. 35:4). The wrath of God over our sin was laid upon Jesus. And in this way he came and saved
us (Is. 35:4).
In Holy Baptism we are brought into God’s family. We become his children. Yes, even his scraps are powerful enough to
forgive, but he isn’t satisfied in giving us leftovers. As children, we are given a place at his
table. He gives us an overabundance of
love and forgiveness. This is also evident
in the account that follows our text. In
the Gentile region of the Decapolis, 4000 people were fed with only seven
loaves and a few small fish. After all
the broken pieces were picked up, there were seven baskets full left over. Jesus fed the 5,000 in the Jewish region of
Galilee, and there was plenty left over.
Jesus fed the 4,000 in the Gentile region of the Decapolis, and there
was plenty left over. Jesus feeds you
today with his Word and with his Body and Blood, and there will be plenty left
over to feed on until the day when we see him face to face.
That leads me to my next point. There is plenty left over for you and me to
share with those who need to hear the Good News of Jesus. The Word of Christ is spoken to you and is
powerful to create faith to believe that Jesus died for your sins and rose
again to give you eternal life. The Word
of Christ was spoken to the woman…simple, straightforward, no magical
incantation. It was demonstrated to the
man … “Be opened.” The Word of Christ opens
our ears to hear, to listen, to have faith, to receive the forgiveness of sins,
to receive eternal life. His Word unties
our tongues so we can confess his name. Oh,
I know we still get tongue-tied at times.
That’s why it’s important to be in God’s Word on a regular basis, to
listen, to learn to confess and to speak the simple, straightforward, good news
that Christ died for our sins and was raised for our justification.
And beware that we don’t limit our proclamation among those
with whom we are comfortable. The Good
News of Jesus is also for the marginalized, the unclean, and the outcast among
us. The immigrant. The addict.
The homeless. The mentally ill. Those with a prison record. St. James teaches us this in our Epistle
reading today. Don’t show partiality,
especially within the household of faith.
Love your neighbor as yourself. A
faith that has no works is dead. So take
care of the poor and needy among you.
Reach out to the outcasts, to those on the margins. Let them know they are loved with the same
love with which Christ loved you. Let
them know that Christ’s forgiveness is for them, too.
Unless things change, it’s becoming increasingly apparent
that eventually anyone who confesses Christ will be on the margins in our
country. It’s already that way in other
places around the world, and our brothers and sisters suffer for it. Maybe you feel like you are on the margins
here already for whatever reason. You
feel like an outcast. You feel as if you
are all alone. You are desperate like
the woman in today’s text. You wonder if
God is deaf to your cries for mercy and forgiveness.
You are not alone.
Jesus is with you always. This community
of faith is here for you … and if we have failed you in any way, then give us a
chance to repent of that and reach out to you again. You are loved and forgiven by God the Father
for the sake of Jesus your Savior. His
ears are always open to your pleas for mercy and your cries for help (Ps. 28:2). “The Lord is the strength of his people; he
is the saving refuge of his anointed” (Ps. 28:8).
That’s you, dear baptized child of God.
Yo, dawg. That’s the
truth.
Amen.
No comments:
Post a Comment