One of the things I enjoy most about the Gospel accounts of Jesus are the little windows of detail
that enliven these great stories. Mark is often regarded as the Gospel writer who indulges in the
least amount of detail, as he usually paints pretty compact pictures without a lot of decoration. It’s
widely believed that Peter and Mary the mother of Jesus are two of his main sources of information.
As Mary is sharing memories with Mark, one can almost picture him glancing up from his notebook
and periodically saying, a la Sergeant Friday in Dragnet, “just the facts, ma’am.” (Not that the
Blessed Virgin would share anything other than facts…)
But in today’s Gospel text we get some pretty fascinating detail of a moment in Jesus’ ministry.
Jesus and the disciples had been on the east side of the Lake of Galilee, teaching and healing the
people in the region known as Gennesaret. Now Jesus sets out around the north side of the lake,
heading through the Galilean Mountains toward the coastal region of Tyre. Mark doesn’t say exactly
why, but Jesus doesn’t want people to know he’s in town. I’m guessing that it has something to do
with his desire for rest. But as is so often the case with Jesus, his reputation precedes him, and
people find out he’s there.
Now, Tyre and Sidon at this time in history was a Gentile area. And Mark says that a Gentile
woman, whose daughter was tormented by an unclean spirit, comes to where Jesus is staying. This
is where it gets interesting. Because what happens next doesn’t seem much like a “gentle Jesus
meek and mild” moment. The woman begs him to cast the demon out of her daughter, and Jesus’
reply is, “Let the children be fed first, for it is not fair to take the children’s food and throw it to the
dogs.”
Ouch. Jesus is clearly referring to the Jewish people as the children,’ and the Gentiles as ‘the
dogs.’ This story, as I suppose can be expected, has caused great consternation among some. I’ve
seen some pretty vituperative comments made about Jesus based on this incident. In fact there’s
one well-known contemporary religious figure who said just this past week that the woman in this
story taught Jesus not to be a racist. Another brilliant scriptural analysis. The sinless Jesus as
racist.
In any case, I think this would make almost anyone’s list of “the hard sayings of Jesus.” But rather
than copping out with the “alls well that ends well” approach, I’d like to pass to you a suggestion
about this story that I first heard from one of my professors at Trinity. It’s based upon the fact that
we have Jesus’ words recorded in the scriptures, but not little things like facial expressions. The fact
that the woman doesn’t appear to become indignant, or otherwise show hurt, may be a hint that
there’s more here than meets the eye.
What if, when Jesus said what he said about children and dogs, he had just a little expectant twinkle
in his eye? Can you picture that? Something almost playful in his demeanor. Sort of a test of her
response and an invitation to engage. That would seem to explain her steady reply. It’s like she’s
saying, “OK, I’ll bite. Sir, even the dogs under the table eat the children’s crumbs.” And I can almost
see Jesus grinning in satisfaction, and replying, “For saying that, you may go—the demon has left
your daughter.” To me this makes a lot more sense than implying that Jesus, who the Bible says
was sinless, was somehow a racist.
Now, before I get into a little closer look at this story and see what it has to say to us here today, I’d
like to move forward to the rest of the Gospel reading, because there are some parallels in the two
stories. Mark tells us that, next, Jesus returns to the east side of the Lake of Galilee, in the area of
the Decapolis. Once again, this is a Gentile area. But it’s also an area where Jesus has recently
performed a dramatic miracle—the exorcism of the man possessed by a legion of demons. As you
recall, these were cast into a herd of pigs, which then plummeted headlong into the Lake.
You may also recall that Jesus had told the delivered man to tell his family and friends what he’d
done for him. This command was duly obeyed, as it was a crowd that returned to bring a deaf man
with a speech impediment to him for healing. So now Jesus takes the man aside, puts his fingers
into his ears, touches his tongue, breathes a sigh heavenward and says, “Ephphatha—be opened.”
And the man is instantly and totally healed. He immediately starts speaking!
And, contrary to Jesus’ gag order for this healing, everyone else starts speaking as well, and the
word once again spreads like wildfire. Between these two stories folded into our Gospel reading, if
we look we can find a pattern that still applies to us today. For all the science of marketing and
the recommendations of how to draw people to the Christian faith, I’m inclined to think that there’s
simply no substitute for believers, one at a time, to tell their stories to others as a way of letting
people know about who Jesus is, what he’s done for us, and what he continues to do for us. That’s
certainly how it happened in Jesus’ time.
Just as Jesus perhaps thought he might get a little break to get some rest, a woman in a Gentile
region tracks him down with a plea to heal her daughter. Similarly, the word of Jesus’ miracles had
spread throughout the Decapolis, and another Gentile is brought to him for healing. In both cases,
people not only hear of the works of the Lord, but they respond to these accounts. Those who are
helped don’t engage in some kind of internal intellectual debate about whether miracles can
happen; they don’t roll their eyes and dismiss the superstitious rantings of ignorant people. Instead
they allow themselves that heart-quickening hope for which all of us seek fulfillment. They invest
enough faith to actually come to the Lord and ask for what they want. Those who would benefit from
the Lord’s grace and mercy in this day and age do very much the same.
Secondly, especially as in the case of the Syro-Phoenician woman, the one who would receive
Jesus’ healing will be both bold and humble. Think about that exchange between Jesus and the
woman. Jesus says those potentially inflammatory words about children and dogs. And what does
the woman do? Does she take offense? Does she argue? Does she offer a pithy retort directed
toward the Jews? None of the above. Rather, she appears to acknowledge the special place of the
Jews in God’s eyes, and says, “Even the dogs under the table eat the children’s crumbs.”
This woman is not one to demurely surrender when her request is at first deferred. Instead she
responds assertively to Jesus’ less than flattering language. Yet at the same time she remains
humble, knowing that the man before her is someone of extraordinary stature. I’m pretty confident
that Jesus knew in advance that the woman would respond in the way that she did when he
appeared to decline her request. St. Augustine writes, “She was ignored, not that mercy might be
denied but that desire might be enkindled; not only that desire might be enkindled but…that humility
might be praised.” So Jesus invited boldness from the woman, but not at the expense of her humility.
And this boldness expresses itself in perseverance. This Gentile woman was the fulfillment of Jesus’
parable of the woman who persisted in bringing her petition to the king, until, tired of her
persistence, he granted her request. As I said, she doesn’t give up at the first sign of Jesus’
hesitation, but presents her own side of the argument. This demonstrates to Jesus the faith that he’
s looking for in her, and to which he ultimately responds by delivering her daughter. So the
nameless Gentile woman responds to the stories she hears about this great healer, shows a
combination of boldness and humility, and persists in her request to the Lord. These are actions
each of us would do well to emulate.
The final step in the pattern is more specific to the story of the healed deaf and mute man. Mark
doesn’t tell us about whether the Gentile woman spread the news (I have to imagine that she did),
but does mention that, once again, the people who witnessed the deaf man’s healing went out and
told the story. Now, in this case they did so against the wishes of Jesus, but I think it’s safe to say
that now that Jesus has completed his work, we’re under the opposite obligation. Because one of
the very last things that Jesus directed us to do before ascending into heaven was to “go into all the
world and spread the good news.” Tell others what the Lord has done for us, and for those we
love.
I can’t help here but think of Mercedes Marshall, who after being healed of (a circulatory problem)
told her workmates, and God quickly became a hot topic around the water cooler. She also shared
her story here at Hope, and bolstered even further the faith of many who’ve already seen a few of
God’s miracles firsthand.
And it’s with this notion that I close. As you know, the Matthew 25 conference originally scheduled
for next weekend, has been cancelled. Had that event come off, we would have heard a report from
our own healing ministries people on the impact that the Taize healing services have on
evangelism. And here evangelism isn’t mere enticement or worse yet, manipulation, purely the
simple spreading of good news. The good news is that, in many, many different ways, the Lord still
provides healing for the faithful, here and now. And the best way for that good news to spread is
person to person, from one trusted friend to another, until people are moved to “come and see.”
There’s a song by my favorite contemporary Christian band, the Newsboys, that hits this head-on. It’
s called “I’m Not Ashamed,” we’re exhorted to be bold in spreading our accounts of God’s work in
our lives. A piece of one of the stanzas says this: “This one said it’s a lost cause / Save your
testimonies for church time. Other ones state you’d better wait until you do a little market research—
I’m saying “No way! I’m not ashamed to let you know / I want this light in me to show. I’m not
ashamed to speak the name of Jesus Christ.” Again, it sounds a lot better when Peter Furler sings it
than when Dan Tuton says it. But I trust you hear the message.
We have a very precious heritage inspired by a very precious truth. That truth is that the Lord is
alive and well, and working in our lives if we give him the space to do it.
Like the people in our Gospel stories this morning, may we respond to this truth. May we approach
with boldness and humility the throne of grace, persevering in prayer. And may we then be bold in
spreading the good news of what the Lord has done for us, letting the light within us show to dispel
the darkness of our time. Amen.
that enliven these great stories. Mark is often regarded as the Gospel writer who indulges in the
least amount of detail, as he usually paints pretty compact pictures without a lot of decoration. It’s
widely believed that Peter and Mary the mother of Jesus are two of his main sources of information.
As Mary is sharing memories with Mark, one can almost picture him glancing up from his notebook
and periodically saying, a la Sergeant Friday in Dragnet, “just the facts, ma’am.” (Not that the
Blessed Virgin would share anything other than facts…)
But in today’s Gospel text we get some pretty fascinating detail of a moment in Jesus’ ministry.
Jesus and the disciples had been on the east side of the Lake of Galilee, teaching and healing the
people in the region known as Gennesaret. Now Jesus sets out around the north side of the lake,
heading through the Galilean Mountains toward the coastal region of Tyre. Mark doesn’t say exactly
why, but Jesus doesn’t want people to know he’s in town. I’m guessing that it has something to do
with his desire for rest. But as is so often the case with Jesus, his reputation precedes him, and
people find out he’s there.
Now, Tyre and Sidon at this time in history was a Gentile area. And Mark says that a Gentile
woman, whose daughter was tormented by an unclean spirit, comes to where Jesus is staying. This
is where it gets interesting. Because what happens next doesn’t seem much like a “gentle Jesus
meek and mild” moment. The woman begs him to cast the demon out of her daughter, and Jesus’
reply is, “Let the children be fed first, for it is not fair to take the children’s food and throw it to the
dogs.”
Ouch. Jesus is clearly referring to the Jewish people as the children,’ and the Gentiles as ‘the
dogs.’ This story, as I suppose can be expected, has caused great consternation among some. I’ve
seen some pretty vituperative comments made about Jesus based on this incident. In fact there’s
one well-known contemporary religious figure who said just this past week that the woman in this
story taught Jesus not to be a racist. Another brilliant scriptural analysis. The sinless Jesus as
racist.
In any case, I think this would make almost anyone’s list of “the hard sayings of Jesus.” But rather
than copping out with the “alls well that ends well” approach, I’d like to pass to you a suggestion
about this story that I first heard from one of my professors at Trinity. It’s based upon the fact that
we have Jesus’ words recorded in the scriptures, but not little things like facial expressions. The fact
that the woman doesn’t appear to become indignant, or otherwise show hurt, may be a hint that
there’s more here than meets the eye.
What if, when Jesus said what he said about children and dogs, he had just a little expectant twinkle
in his eye? Can you picture that? Something almost playful in his demeanor. Sort of a test of her
response and an invitation to engage. That would seem to explain her steady reply. It’s like she’s
saying, “OK, I’ll bite. Sir, even the dogs under the table eat the children’s crumbs.” And I can almost
see Jesus grinning in satisfaction, and replying, “For saying that, you may go—the demon has left
your daughter.” To me this makes a lot more sense than implying that Jesus, who the Bible says
was sinless, was somehow a racist.
Now, before I get into a little closer look at this story and see what it has to say to us here today, I’d
like to move forward to the rest of the Gospel reading, because there are some parallels in the two
stories. Mark tells us that, next, Jesus returns to the east side of the Lake of Galilee, in the area of
the Decapolis. Once again, this is a Gentile area. But it’s also an area where Jesus has recently
performed a dramatic miracle—the exorcism of the man possessed by a legion of demons. As you
recall, these were cast into a herd of pigs, which then plummeted headlong into the Lake.
You may also recall that Jesus had told the delivered man to tell his family and friends what he’d
done for him. This command was duly obeyed, as it was a crowd that returned to bring a deaf man
with a speech impediment to him for healing. So now Jesus takes the man aside, puts his fingers
into his ears, touches his tongue, breathes a sigh heavenward and says, “Ephphatha—be opened.”
And the man is instantly and totally healed. He immediately starts speaking!
And, contrary to Jesus’ gag order for this healing, everyone else starts speaking as well, and the
word once again spreads like wildfire. Between these two stories folded into our Gospel reading, if
we look we can find a pattern that still applies to us today. For all the science of marketing and
the recommendations of how to draw people to the Christian faith, I’m inclined to think that there’s
simply no substitute for believers, one at a time, to tell their stories to others as a way of letting
people know about who Jesus is, what he’s done for us, and what he continues to do for us. That’s
certainly how it happened in Jesus’ time.
Just as Jesus perhaps thought he might get a little break to get some rest, a woman in a Gentile
region tracks him down with a plea to heal her daughter. Similarly, the word of Jesus’ miracles had
spread throughout the Decapolis, and another Gentile is brought to him for healing. In both cases,
people not only hear of the works of the Lord, but they respond to these accounts. Those who are
helped don’t engage in some kind of internal intellectual debate about whether miracles can
happen; they don’t roll their eyes and dismiss the superstitious rantings of ignorant people. Instead
they allow themselves that heart-quickening hope for which all of us seek fulfillment. They invest
enough faith to actually come to the Lord and ask for what they want. Those who would benefit from
the Lord’s grace and mercy in this day and age do very much the same.
Secondly, especially as in the case of the Syro-Phoenician woman, the one who would receive
Jesus’ healing will be both bold and humble. Think about that exchange between Jesus and the
woman. Jesus says those potentially inflammatory words about children and dogs. And what does
the woman do? Does she take offense? Does she argue? Does she offer a pithy retort directed
toward the Jews? None of the above. Rather, she appears to acknowledge the special place of the
Jews in God’s eyes, and says, “Even the dogs under the table eat the children’s crumbs.”
This woman is not one to demurely surrender when her request is at first deferred. Instead she
responds assertively to Jesus’ less than flattering language. Yet at the same time she remains
humble, knowing that the man before her is someone of extraordinary stature. I’m pretty confident
that Jesus knew in advance that the woman would respond in the way that she did when he
appeared to decline her request. St. Augustine writes, “She was ignored, not that mercy might be
denied but that desire might be enkindled; not only that desire might be enkindled but…that humility
might be praised.” So Jesus invited boldness from the woman, but not at the expense of her humility.
And this boldness expresses itself in perseverance. This Gentile woman was the fulfillment of Jesus’
parable of the woman who persisted in bringing her petition to the king, until, tired of her
persistence, he granted her request. As I said, she doesn’t give up at the first sign of Jesus’
hesitation, but presents her own side of the argument. This demonstrates to Jesus the faith that he’
s looking for in her, and to which he ultimately responds by delivering her daughter. So the
nameless Gentile woman responds to the stories she hears about this great healer, shows a
combination of boldness and humility, and persists in her request to the Lord. These are actions
each of us would do well to emulate.
The final step in the pattern is more specific to the story of the healed deaf and mute man. Mark
doesn’t tell us about whether the Gentile woman spread the news (I have to imagine that she did),
but does mention that, once again, the people who witnessed the deaf man’s healing went out and
told the story. Now, in this case they did so against the wishes of Jesus, but I think it’s safe to say
that now that Jesus has completed his work, we’re under the opposite obligation. Because one of
the very last things that Jesus directed us to do before ascending into heaven was to “go into all the
world and spread the good news.” Tell others what the Lord has done for us, and for those we
love.
I can’t help here but think of Mercedes Marshall, who after being healed of (a circulatory problem)
told her workmates, and God quickly became a hot topic around the water cooler. She also shared
her story here at Hope, and bolstered even further the faith of many who’ve already seen a few of
God’s miracles firsthand.
And it’s with this notion that I close. As you know, the Matthew 25 conference originally scheduled
for next weekend, has been cancelled. Had that event come off, we would have heard a report from
our own healing ministries people on the impact that the Taize healing services have on
evangelism. And here evangelism isn’t mere enticement or worse yet, manipulation, purely the
simple spreading of good news. The good news is that, in many, many different ways, the Lord still
provides healing for the faithful, here and now. And the best way for that good news to spread is
person to person, from one trusted friend to another, until people are moved to “come and see.”
There’s a song by my favorite contemporary Christian band, the Newsboys, that hits this head-on. It’
s called “I’m Not Ashamed,” we’re exhorted to be bold in spreading our accounts of God’s work in
our lives. A piece of one of the stanzas says this: “This one said it’s a lost cause / Save your
testimonies for church time. Other ones state you’d better wait until you do a little market research—
I’m saying “No way! I’m not ashamed to let you know / I want this light in me to show. I’m not
ashamed to speak the name of Jesus Christ.” Again, it sounds a lot better when Peter Furler sings it
than when Dan Tuton says it. But I trust you hear the message.
We have a very precious heritage inspired by a very precious truth. That truth is that the Lord is
alive and well, and working in our lives if we give him the space to do it.
Like the people in our Gospel stories this morning, may we respond to this truth. May we approach
with boldness and humility the throne of grace, persevering in prayer. And may we then be bold in
spreading the good news of what the Lord has done for us, letting the light within us show to dispel
the darkness of our time. Amen.
Precious Crumbs
Mark 7: 24-37
Mark 7: 24-37
September 6, 2009
The Rev. Daniel Tuton
The Rev. Daniel Tuton
 |
| |
 |
| |
 |