An edited version of the sermon preached on the Fifteenth Sunday after Pentecost at St. Francis Church. Sermon text: Mark 7:(1-23) 24-37
In the first twenty-three verses of the seventh chapter of Mark - last weekend's Gospel reading - there is a dispute between Jesus and the
religious authorities. He has been teaching in and around the Sea of Galilee, about
100 miles north of Jerusalem. In the very first verse of the seventh chapter of
Mark, a group of Pharisees and scribes arrive from Jerusalem. They are not
coming all the way to Galilee to become his disciples. They have been sent to discredit
and ultimately to silence him. By way of analogy, think nuns on the bus and Vatican
officials.
First-century Judaism was diverse, complex, and
contentious. (Sounds a lot like 21st century Christianity, doesn't it?) A
whole bunch of debates were going on within
Judaism about the future of Judaism. So what is happening in the seventh
chapter of Mark is not a clash between “Jews” and “Jesus” but a highly
emotional argument among Jewish
people. The truth is that the scribes and Pharisees didn’t agree on everything
themselves, but they were allied in their shared commitment to put a stop to
this rabble-rousing rabbi.
The conflict is over how to interpret and apply the
Holiness Codes from Leviticus. What does it mean to be an observant Jew? The
official interpreters of the tradition had elaborate rituals and rules about
what you could eat and how you could eat and with whom you could eat. (And
similar rules about keeping the Sabbath holy.) These were all part of the
“tradition” that seemed to have a clear mandate in the Book of Leviticus. Yet
Jesus (or more precisely) Jesus’
followers have been routinely violating the purity laws and rituals around eating;
at least that is how the authorities see it. They refuse to wash their hands,
not because they are against hygiene, but they are pushing the envelope against
those who see themselves as the arbiters of what is acceptable.
So an attentive reader would be wise to ask why? Why are Jesus and his friends always
“rocking the boat?” Why does this guy without any theological credentials
challenge the theologians and engage in debate with them and escalate the
conflict? Didn’t Jesus’ mother teach him that you get more bees with honey? The
short answer is that Jesus is constantly pointing out to the scribes and the
Pharisees that their application of the Torah is selective and therefore
hypocritical; that they have blinders on. That it may work for them, but they
make the faith harder on others than it needs to be by missing the forest from
the trees. At one point Jesus famously notes that the Sabbath is for people, not
the other way around.
It
is interesting to me that Jesus and his followers—from the perspective of
outsiders—see as obvious what the insiders with their vested interest are blind
to.
And I think that’s critical to grasp. These Jerusalem elites are not bad
people. But the rules they make work for
them; not Galilean fishermen. In those first twenty-one verses of chapter
seven Jesus is surrounded by powerful people trying to intimidate him into
silence. Yet he stands his ground, and won’t back down. He is a prophetic figure speaking truth to
power, to people who literally have blinders on and can no longer see what really
matters.
Anyone who has ever tried to speak truth to power
knows how exhausting that can be. So Jesus needs to get away from it all. He needs
a little Sabbath himself. As we heard today he heads about forty miles north; crossing
over the border into what we would call Lebanon today. He crosses into the
region of Tyre and Sidon, knowing that the Jerusalem leaders will not follow
him there because it is Gentile territory, and their theology of purity keeps
them from stepping foot into such a place. So he is presumably safe there.
The evangelist is very clear: he slips into a house
“because he doesn’t want anyone to know
he’s there.” He’s trying to find
some peace and quiet. “Yet,” Mark tells us, “he could not escape notice.”
This unnamed woman who finds him there is yin and yang with Jesus: he is male,
she is female; he is Jewish, she is a Gentile.[i] So we should also notice what Mark has done
as a shrewd gospel writer: he has just turned the tables on us. Jesus is now
completely in the opposite role that he was a few moments ago. In the first
half of Mark 7, he was the outsider—the one without social power. But now,
by comparison, Jesus is the one with all the power.
And what is interesting is that he seems, at least
momentarily, a bit off his game and one might argue as blind as the scribes and
Pharisees when in that position. Maybe that is what being in a position of
relative privilege does to us; it makes us myopic, and even blind. Just a short
time ago, Jesus was arguing for a more compassionate reading of the Torah, for
a “kinder and gentler” Judaism, if you will. Yet now he sounds almost like those
very scribes and Pharisees with whom he was arguing. He calls this woman a “dog.”
There’s really no way around that, even if his insult is an indirect one.
Essentially
he is saying that he has to set priorities in his ministry and that he hasn’t
got time or energy to waste on casting out the demon from her daughter, because
he has to use all of his limited resources to focus on the children of
Israel—the very people, by the way, whom we just saw were chasing him away.
It’s understandable, of course—especially if Jesus has just attended a
time-management seminar or a course on “learning to say no.” He’s setting
priorities and putting first things first: Jews first, Gentiles second.
But this woman refuses to stay invisible. She persists.
Maybe even she is a little bit annoying as the truly desperate usually are. She
insists on being heard because she is a desperate mother with a sick child. The
tables have indeed been turned on Jesus, and she bests him in a theological
debate: “even the dogs get some crumbs.”
Now some people don’t like this gospel reading
because they want Jesus to never be shown in any way other than bathed in
heavenly light. A self-respecting gospel writer like John would never give us a
story like this. But Mark isn’t John, or even Matthew or Luke. Mark is so
focused on the humanity of Jesus that he doesn’t have a problem with portraying
Jesus as tired and cranky. Perhaps he is in fact just baiting her, helping her
to find her voice. Either way, she is the star in this encounter because she
refuses to back down. And clearly Jesus appreciates her chutzpah. So he says to her: “for saying that…the demon has left your
daughter. Go home and see for herself that she is now well.”
We have a fascinating case study here that I think is
very relevant to our daily lives. There are no doubt times in our lives when we
should “stand our ground” as Jesus does in speaking truth to power. But in this
situation, he is open to seeing his own blind spots. I’m going to let the
second half of this gospel reading stand on its own since I spent so much time
leading up to this encounter, except to note that Aramaic word Jesus utters as
he heals this deaf man with a speech impediment immediately after his encounter
with this Syrophoenician woman: Ephphatha,
that is: "be opened." Jesus shows us how to not be afraid to enter
into a conversation and ultimately to open our hearts and minds to the other. Because
you don’t grow spiritually (or in any way) with clenched fists and your eyes
closed. Be open. Jesus really listens
and really hears this woman this woman to speech and it’s pretty obvious that
she has spent most of her life being silenced and made invisible. Hearing her
story changes his theology; it changes him. And of course it changes her, too.
Think for a moment what this suggests about prayer.
I don’t think Jesus means for us to be passive and pious people, but like this
woman to cry out for justice, to push back, to engage, until we find our
voices. Jesus can handle that, as he shows here. We need more Christians with
the kind of chutzpah this woman
shows, because it leads to deeper faith. What would happen if we engaged in
that kind of conversation more often—in our prayer lives and with one another, in
our homes and workplaces and at church? What would it be like for us to let go
of our agendas and certainties long enough to be truly open? Ephphatha. Open to speak our truths and
to hear the truths of others. I submit to you that it is not weakness to do
this, but a giant leap of faith. For when we engage with others in this way, the
healing power of God truly is unleashed. Reconciliation is possible.
Mark shows
us a fully human Jesus, and a fully human Jesus shows us how to be more human; and ultimately how to be instruments of God’s peace in a broken world.
[i] We might notice that this encounter with the
Syrophoenician woman echoes Old Testament encounters between Elijah and the
widow of Zarepath (1 Kings 17:8-24) as well as the story of Elisha and the
Shunamite woman (2 Kings 4:18-37).
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