When the Gospel goes to the Dogs

When the Gospel goes to the Dogs
Mark 7:24-30

In one of my Biblical research books, there is a printed warning in distinctive red letters that says “Beware of finding a Jesus entirely congenial to you.” There is a real temptation to try to create Jesus in our own image, being for us the representation of our own ideals. We tend to downplay any stories of Jesus that we might think of Jesus being unpleasant. For those who embraced the Temperance movement in the late 19th and early 20th centuries, there was a flat-out denial that Jesus actually drank wine… they came up with these acrobatics explaining that it was in fact grape juice… or that the miracle at Cana wasn’t truly wine either. Others don’t like the reality that Jesus got very angry, threw stuff about, and turned over the tables over in the Temple. After all, how many of us would get away with that here?

Then there is this morning’s story from Mark. The story we heard doesn’t seem to fit with the compassionate, open, loving and caring Jesus we have come to know. In fact, the tale of Jesus interacting with the Syro-Phoenician woman has Jesus coming across rather racist - he calls the woman a dog, in part because she isn’t Jewish… and this apparent bigotry doesn’t fit with our idea of who Jesus was.

This morning’s passage tells of Jesus comparing a woman to a dog. The term dog in Jesus’ day was used as a derogatory term. Dogs were not pets - they were work animals who ate off the floor and out of the garbage, not members of the family. If you were called a dog, it meant that you were regarded as an outsider, and not as someone of importance. If you were called a dog, it meant that you didn’t have any value. If you were called a dog, you weren’t even acknowledged as being human. Being called a dog was a pretty harsh insult.

And yet, Jesus uses the term dog to describe his annoyance at the woman’s interruption. There is no way to make what he says into something nice. It isn’t, and it isn’t meant to be. Jesus calls her a dog is because of his upbringing as a Jew, and Jews did not associate with Gentiles. The two groups did not eat together, work together, or worship together. As a result, a great deal of animosity existed between the two groups - each regarded the other as being beneath them. Both Jews and Gentiles resorted to calling each other names, most notably, dogs.

Jesus calling someone, anyone, a dog is the Jesus we never knew. His upbringing, his religion, his gender didn’t justify what we hear as his initial rudeness and mistreatment of this woman. Perhaps he was, as some commentators believe, struggling with what he was called to do. It is possible that he really did believe that he was sent to bring the Gospel to just the Jews. Or perhaps he was conscious of her other-ness - a woman, a Gentile, and a foreigner - all things that could make him ritually unclean, just by talking to her. And so Jesus calls her a ‘dog’ - a term that was quite appropriate in that time and those circumstances… even if highly inappropriate now.

Personally, I think it is more likely that Jesus was having a really bad day… and she catches him in a very human moment...

Ralph Milton has an interest way of telling this story… maybe it will help shed a bit of light on it for us.

Jesus had been travelling extensively up to this point, and he sought out a place to stay in Tyre so that he might escape the crowds. But there was no escaping the persistence of the Syro-Phoenician woman and her needs. She barges right into the place where she wasn’t permitted to go - to seek the help of a Jewish man said to be a prophet.

““You can’t go in there,” said Peter.
“Well, I am going in there, whether you like it or not.”
“I said, you can’t go in there, woman.”

“I am going in, mister. I have a sick daughter at home, and I am going in there and that prophet of yours is going to fix her. Now get out of my way before I give you a swift kick in the shins.”

Peter jumped aside. The fierce eyes of the woman frightened him. He followed her into the house. “I told her you didn’t want to be disturbed, Jesus. But she wouldn’t listen.”
“Jesus? That’s your name? They say you are a prophet. They say you are a very mighty prophet. Some say you are the Messiah. All right, I’m asking you. No, I’m begging you, Jesus, Lord, Son of David, help my daughter. She is desperately sick and disturbed. If she doesn’t get help, she will die.”

Jesus was sitting on a mat in a corner of the room away from the hot sunshine coming through the window. He was meditating - trying to rest, trying to regain some strength after the exhausting work he had been doing. Jesus was tense and tired and annoyed at the woman for intruding on his retreat. He kept his eyes closed, hoping she would take the hint and leave.

“Look, I’m sorry. But I need your help, Jesus. My daughter is dying and I need your help!”

Utterly exhausted, Jesus replied, “I can’t help you. I’m sorry. That’s just the way it is. I was sent to the people of Israel. To the Jews. Please leave.”

“Surely, if you are a man of God,” she begged, “then you have come to all of God’s people.”

“The children of Israel are God’s people. Look, I’m sorry. But you don’t take the bread that is meant for children and feed it to your dogs, do you?”“[1]

Despite Jesus’ apparent insult, she didn’t give up. Her actions were an outrage. Her coming to him, asking for help, was out and out offensive. Jesus shouldn’t have been talking to her at all, let alone in the same house as her. She was beneath him, an outsider, a woman not worthy of his attention. Her gender, her ethnicity, her religion, and her sick daughter all set her apart. And she barges into the home where Jesus had retreated for some well earned rest, pleading for the blessings of Israel to be extended to her! This was completely outrageous!

But she didn’t go away upon hearing Jesus’ comments. Instead, she replies with wit and persistence. ““Right,” she said to him, her eyes flaming with desperation. “But even the mutts on the street get to eat some of the scraps off the family table. Surely, Jesus, your God has enough love to give a little to those of us who are not Jewish!”“[2]

I love this woman’s answer back to Jesus. She’s not only stubbornly persistent, she’s smart. She turns Jesus’ argument back on itself. Nowhere else in the Gospel accounts is there any report of anyone so clearly getting the best of Jesus. This woman takes Jesus to school, and he knows it.

Basically, this woman is saying to Jesus - “Okay, you call me a dog because of my race and my religion. If I am a dog, then treat me like one, and give me the scraps off the table. I’m only asking to lick the plate clean when your children are done,” she argues. “No one loses out just because the gospel also goes to the dogs.”

“Jesus recoiled a little. His hand massaged his forehead as if to ease a headache. He felt the woman’s piercing eyes. Through his mind flashed the stories of his people, the wonderful humour of the parable of Jonah who was sent to bring God’s message to the hated Ninevites, the moving story of Ruth, the foreigner, who became an ancestor to the great King David, and the stories his own mother had told him of his birth - of foreign Magi who came bearing gifts.

“You are right,” Jesus said to her. “Of course you are right. You are also very courageous. Go home. Your daughter will be well.”

“Thank you,” she said, and now her mother’s tenderness went out to Jesus. “Go back to your meditation. You look as if you need the rest.”

“Meditation, yes,” Jesus said quietly. “You have given me much to meditate upon.”“[3]

In this encounter, we see a Jesus we never knew before - a Jesus who is not entirely congenial... And yet, we also see a Jesus who is very human, who actually listens… and even admits that he is wrong, and bends to the Syro-Phoenician woman’s argument - surely the good news, the gospel, could also be shared with the so-called dogs. The one who had been excluded because of gender, race, religion, and illness was also a recipient of God’s love and grace.

The story of the Syro-Phoenician woman reminds me of the categories that existed when I was in elementary and high school - there were the Jocks, the Cool Kids, the Geeks, the Weirdos - and how no one belonged to more than one group. It was the school pecking order, and there were rules about who fit where, and who was excluded. Many of us have had similar experiences at work, and even in church. And when we are excluded, then I think we can begin to imagine how hard it was for the woman in today’s story to cross those boundaries.

I also believe there are some of us who agree with Jesus’ initially exclusive outlook. There exist some people, even in this church, who exclude others on the basis of what family they are from, or aren’t from, on finances, on where the person grew up or didn’t grow up, and probably other factors as well.

Thanks to the persistence of a Gentile, a non-Jew, a woman, an outsider, this story shows us that God’s love knows no boundaries. That challenge and calls exists for us as well - the Gospel is for everyone, even those we might consider outsiders. Definitely something to meditate upon. Thanks be to God! Amen.

[1]Adapted from the story, “Even the mutts get a few scraps” by Ralph Milton from his book, Is This Your Idea of A Good Time, God? Discovering Yourself in Biblical Stories. Woodlake Books, 1995. Page 162-4.
[2]Ibid.
[3]Ibid.

A special thank you to the Rev. Sarah Fanning and her heavy influence in the development of this sermon.