Yesterday afternoon, my family and I went to a local bookstore. It was there that I found an interesting book entitled “The Best Los Angeles Sports Arguments: The 100 Most Controversial Debatable Questions for Die-Hard Fans.” The book had interesting questions such as: What was the worst trade in Los Angeles history?: What’s the better rivalry Dodgers-Giants or Lakers-Celtics?; What was the worst call that went against a local team?
These questions reminded me of a similar question that Christians tend to ask when they read a passage such as what we have today—What do you do with a difficult passage where Jesus shows a disturbing behavior? Remember those images of Jesus holding a lamb, or him being welcoming with the little children? “Jesus loves the children” a song once said. We don’t see that here. Whatever happened to that image of Jesus?
In this passage we are seeing a different side of Jesus. Was Jesus having a bad day? Did he have a split personality? Was he bipolar? How could Jesus say such a thing?
Jesus' referring to Gentiles as dogs - clearly this is one of those difficult gospel moments with which Christians must wrestle with. Who is this Jesus who is disrespectful of other nationalities and religions? What kind of Savior doesn't want to heal a young girl simply because of who her family is? What are we to do with a Christ who is culturally insensitive?
Because this passage is so troubling, Christians through the centuries have tried to sweeten or domesticate it, for example pointing out that the Greek word translated here as "dogs" literally means "small dogs," that is, puppies or house dogs. I don't think that mitigates the insult much. I will admit, however, to getting a chuckle out of the images -- such as Sebastiano Ricci's Christ and the Canaanite Woman reproduced here -- in which a smiling Jesus seems to change his mind because that puppy is just so darn cute!
But I think a more productive approach in this case is not to domesticate this scriptural problem but to embrace it as a moment in which the Kingdom of Heaven breaks opens and becomes more inclusive, a moment in which we are reminded that no one is outside the embrace of God.
In the parallel story in Matthew 15:21-28, the woman is Canaanite, whereas here she is Syrophoenician, but in either case the relevant point is that she is Gentile, a pagan enemy of the Jewish people. Given that Jesus has traveled to Tyre, a Gentile stronghold, it's hardly unexpected that he should run into one of these despised people.
What is perhaps surprising is that this Gentile woman would turn to Jesus for help, but of course a desperate woman will do almost anything to help her sick child. Jesus, however, is not inclined to help her, for (as he notes in the Matthew version) he sees his ministry as intended for "the lost sheep of the house of Israel" and not for the Gentiles (Mt 15:24).
Moreover, he turns her away by using a dining metaphor, one that implies a limited supply of food that only some may eat while others will go hungry. And this shortly after he has managed to feed five thousand people with only five loaves and two fish (Mk 6:30-44)! Surely Jesus of all people should know that God's goodness is bounteous, that there is more than enough food for everyone.
And this is essentially what the Gentile woman points out to Jesus. There's plenty of food for everyone; even once all of those recognized as people, as insiders, are fed, there's still food left over for those who aren't even considered human, the outsiders. And they're all eating the same food; admittedly, some of it is crumbs from the original serving, but it's the same substance. Whether they are at the table or under it, they are all finding nourishment.
And Jesus, apparently moved by her words -- or reminded by her of his own previous miracle -- essentially says, "Good point. You get the same food as all of God's other children anyway, so why not have a seat at the table?" He promptly heals her child, and never again in Mark does he refuse to heal anyone or question anyone's worthiness to be healed. The "dog" becomes a dinner guest and gets to sit at the table with the "children," and because the feast is so bounteous, these additional guests in no way diminish the abundance of food.
This powerful moment is recalled whenever people gather before the Lord’s Table. In the Catholic faith during mass they say the words: "We do not presume to come to this thy Table, O merciful Lord, trusting in our own righteousness, but in thy manifold and great mercies. We are not worthy so much as to gather up the crumbs under thy Table. But thou art the same Lord whose property is always to have mercy. Grant us therefore, gracious Lord, so to eat the flesh of thy dear Son Jesus Christ, and to drink his blood, that we may evermore dwell in him, and he in us. Amen."
After Jesus leaves the Gentile woman, he again feeds the masses -- four thousand this time, in largely Gentile territory and with a Greek-style blessing of food rather than the more customarily Jewish blessing of God in thanks for the food -- and proclaims to his followers that the second great commandment, after loving the Lord "with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind, and with all your strength," is "You shall love your neighbor as yourself" (Mk 12:29-31), a lesson he has been reminded of by the Syrophoenician mother.
This same notion of loving neighbors and of treating insiders and outsiders with equal respect is picked up as well in this week's readings from the letter of James, in which the author chastises those who show "favoritism" and who "[make] distinctions among yourselves." He then follows Jesus in preaching the law that "You shall love your neighbor as yourself." Similarly, in Psalm 146 (one of the psalms assigned for this Sunday), we are reminded that "the Lord cares for the stranger" -- even strangers of other nationalities, even those we might call "dogs."
Jesus understands our initial dislike to strangers -- after all, he had them himself -- but ultimately there is no one we shouldn't invite to the feast. There is plenty of bread for everyone, even those who have traditionally been relegated to eating crumbs under the table, so we will not go hungry but rather will dine abundantly when we follow Jesus' example and welcome all comers to the table.
One of my Fuller Seminary professor Miroslav Volf wrote a book several years ago entitled "Exclusion and Embrace" where he takes the reader on a sweeping theological exploration of what it means to truly embrace the other. He also points out that Scripture is abounding with examples and perspective from those who represent the oppressed, and the forgotten. The weak and feeble represent a majority portion of the characters in the narrative of Scripture. Volf correctly recognizes this aspect of Scripture, and calls for all Christians to recognize our responsibility to embrace the other in our lives. Those who are weak, and oppressed occupy a special place in the heart of God. That Jesus came to both bring hope to the oppressed, and to offer them the chance at repentance and salvation.
This is what our passage is all about. Scripture is challenging our hearts to learn to embrace the other; those who are different from us; in a way creating a new table.
Obviously the gospel reading involves confrontation and accountability, but it is not Jesus who does the teaching or who initially shows mercy. Instead, a nameless Syrophoenician woman approaches Jesus and asks that he heal her daughter.
Presumably because she is not Jewish, Jesus rejects her request outright: "...it is not right to take the food of the children and throw it to the dogs" (Mark 7:27). The woman, however, does what no other person in the gospel has done: She persists and persuades Jesus, for "even the dogs under the table eat the children's scraps." She is the only person to win an argument with Jesus in the whole of scripture.
Many have attempted to explain, excuse, or ignore Jesus' disturbing behavior, when, in the words of theologian Sharon Ringe, he was "caught with his compassion down." And with good reason—Mark's portrayal of Jesus is not a typical or comfortable one.
The woman's behavior, on the other hand, has profound importance for the entire Christian community, for she achieved the laying of a new table to which all are invited.
Why the woman was not named nor invited to formal discipleship remains a mystery; however, she still serves as an example of discipleship for all Christians. Like all disciples are called to do, she recognized the new life Jesus had to offer and stopped at nothing to get it, for herself and for her child. Amen
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