https://youtu.be/M2pUxLB9cPU
Psalm 146: 1-2, 4 Hallelujah! Praise Abba God, O my soul! I will praise Abba God as long as I live; I will sing praises to my God while I have my being. Put not your trust in rulers, nor in any child of earth, for there is no help in them. Happy are they who have the God of Jacob for their help, whose hope is in their God…
Introduction
Last week we were reminded that there are no external boundaries that create a Christian group; in fact, we could say that based on what we learned in Ephesians and what we learned last week boundaries—dividing walls, traditions forcing some to withdraw from and exclude others—are anathema to reign of God. If so, then why do we—Christians—seem deadest on creating barriers to inclusion with the ecclesia and God?
I ponder this question a lot because of where I find myself caught in this particular socio-political timeline. I may be too sensitive here, but the lines between who is “right” and who is “wrong” are appearing to be deeper and thicker than ever before. It feels easy to pull apart right now, to cut ties, to wipe the dust from your sandals and move on. It feels safe to fall deep into your own party of ideas and ideologies, to surround yourself with those just like you, to shrug and sidestep those “others” who don’t think like you. It even feels good to be really frustrated and angry, to give into fear, to have anxiety and worry about the global dumpster-fire we seem trapped in. Even if easy, safe, and good feels really good (and it can feel really darn good), for Christians that path is contrary to the path articulated to us by Christ, the one we are supposed to travel, to walk in, and to grow through.
In short, part of Christian praxis and identity in the world is our burden to pull together and not pull apart, to dare to step into the void of the unknown and risk our comfort and safety, and to relinquish our addiction to anger and fear so to disrupt hostility and enmity with equity and justice. We are exhorted to see that even those whom we might call “dogs” are none other than our dear siblings, beloved little children of God.
Mark 7:24-37
And then he was saying to her, ‘You permit the children to be filled first, for it is not honorable to take the bread of the children and drop it to the little house dogs.’ And she answered and says to him, ‘[Yes] Lord, even the little house dogs under the dining table eat from the crumbs of the little children.’ And he said to her, ‘On account of this word, go; the evil spirit has gone out of your daughter.’ (Mk 7:27-29)
Mark continues the story from where we left off last week. After addressing the crowd about what actually makes a person clean or unclean (hint: it’s not what goes in but what comes out), Jesus sets out: Now, from there, writes Mark, he rose and departed toward the territory of Tyre. Tyre was a region that was connected to Palestine and exerted financial dominance over Galilee; in some historical documents, the Tyrians are considered Israel’s “‘notoriously… bitterest enemies.’”[1] Within this relatively small detail, Mark demonstrates that Jesus is continuing to push boundaries—even if reluctantly,[2] And then he entered a house desiring no one to recognize him and he was not able to escape notice. Mark highlights that the message about the dissolution of boundaries, of the destruction of traditions and dividing walls of the kingdom of humanity, is not only for the house of Israel but also for the neighboring territories (and the world).[3] Jesus’s traveling participate in God’s will: Gentiles are not excluded from the mission of the reign of God and the divine revolution of love, life, and liberation.[4] God is for them, too; God is for the entire world and all humankind no matter the race, the color of the skin, the orientation and identity of the person.[5] If Jesus is the way to this God, then this way, this door, is wide open; [6] no one will be excluded because of random lines drawn in the sand willy-nilly separating this or that people.[7]
The story continues. Mark tells us that Jesus’s desire to go unnoticed by entering a house fails,[8] But at once, after hearing about [Jesus], a woman—whose daughter had an unclean spirit—came and fell before his feet. Now, the woman[was] Greek—Syrophoenician by race—and she was asking him to cast out the evil spirit from her little daughter. This isn’t just any person, and this isn’t just any woman. This is a desperate woman before God. This woman was willing to transcend religious tradition, social expectation, and political boundaries to heal her daughter (either her daughter or one related to her).[9] She is a thoroughly Gentile woman (the double identification emphasizes this point), and she carries the threat of ritual impurity because her daughter is possessed by an “unclean” spirit. There were many strikes against her: woman, Gentile, and unclean (ritually).[10] This woman is in great need and hears about Jesus being in Tyre and is willing to risk her wellbeing to seek healing for one whom she loves. Love does this; faith in Christ also does this.[11],[12]
But Jesus doesn’t reply to her in a way the reader would expect, considering what’s occurred thus far in the Gospel of Mark. Jesus says to her, ‘You permit the children to be filled first, for it is not honorable to take the bread of the children and drop it to the little house dogs.’ As one commentator said, Jesus’s response “is certainly not diplomatic,”[13] it is downright offensive (not only today but especially then[14]); he comes across as one who won’t help.[15] No matter how you parse it, the intentional term Jesus calls her, κυνάρια (translated as “little house dogs”), is flat-out insulting and dehumanizing (she’s a dog not a child—and this goes for her entire race).[16] At that moment, she had every reason to be discouraged.[17]
But rather than be discouraged, she seizes on a moment, or an image: Yes, Lord, even the little house dogs under the table eat from the crumbs of the young children. The “yes” is lost to our translation, but it’s there in spirit. She doesn’t disagree with the insult and then twists the image to emphasize that the little house dogs are happy to eat—even if second—the crumbs that fall to the floor and under the table; [18] in other words, it is right to let the crumbs fall into the possession of the dogs and let the dogs have their moment.[19] Theologically, what she sees here is the bold articulation of the power of the reign of God transcending not just local religious tradition but also socio-political division and boundaries; crumbs fall from the table for the children on to the floor where the dogs are.[20] Why shouldn’t they eat, too?
What happens next? Her daughter is delivered of the evil, unclean spirit. Jesus replied, this time full of grace, like one happy to be wrong,[21] and walks back his initial (human[22]) comment and heals her daughter with one (divine) word,[23],[24] On account of this word, go!; the evil spirit has gone out of your daughter. Just as he did before over dirty hands and she did just then about dogs, Jesus demonstrates that the tradition and boundaries of the kingdom of humanity are no match for the transcending power of the reign of God and the divine revolution of love, life, and liberation.[25] The divine equity of God’s mission in the world is pronounced here: it is not about being exclusive but inclusive; the bread of life will be shared with all no matter who they are or from where they hail.[26] She, too, is a child of God, worthy of living bread.[27]
Conclusion
According to Mark’s Jesus, no one—absolutely no one—is to be excluded from the presence of God made known in Christ and revealed by the power of the Holy Spirit. Therefore here, in this passage from Mark, we are given every reason and motivation to pull together, to step outside of our comfort and safety, and relinquish our anger and fear. According to Mark’s Jesus, no one is so far gone to be outside of God’s great reach.
What is most paramount in this passage for us today—the thing that really jumps out at me, the thing that Mark wants his audience to understand—is that we are to be a healthy amount skeptical of the traditions and dogmas of the kingdom of humanity and how these very things have infiltrated our theology and worship, causing us to gate-keep, calling it God’s will. In this passage, Mark wants us to see that Jesus turns his back on the conception of God’s will that leads to exclusivist thinking, ranking some humans as more important to God than others. Nothing is further from the truth. No one has a unique claim to God or those who belong to God. And we do not work from the idea that we are “right” as if everyone else is wrong; it’s not about right and wrong, which is the worst language to speak in; rather it’s about working from hope, hope and our being fully dependent on God and God’s word.*
Beloved, remember that you are the beloved little child of God, adopted into the family of God through faith in Christ and by the power of the Holy Spirit; remember, too, there are more people out there who think they are dogs and beyond God’s concern because that’s what our society has told them. To them we are sent; to them we go bringing God’s love, life, and liberation. To them and for them we bring divine equity and justice to the glory of God.
*This is inspired from Philip G. Ziegler’s AAR Paper (2023) “The Revolutionary Philanthropy of God–The Dogmatic Engine of Paul L. Lehmann’s Theological Ethics,” San Antonio, TX, p. 6. “…those who subsequently are impelled to ‘move against the focus of power’ in the existing social and political situation do not do so from a position of self–possession and strength–a position of right–but as those undone by judgment and grace and so in repentance, humility, and hope for others. Lehmann emphasizes that Christians and revolutionaries–Christians as revolutionaries–always ‘bear a righteousness not their own’ (Phil 3:9). They cannot and do not pursue their own righteousness; rather, their ethical and political adventure seeks only the righteousness of their neighbor.”
[1] R. T. France, The Gospel of Mark: A Commentary on the Greek Text, NIGTC, eds. I. Howard Marshall and Donald A. Hagner (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2002), 297. “Tyre, whose territory adjoined northern Galilee, had long been an important trading city. It had close links with Palestine, particularly under Herod the Great, and its coinage was widely circulated there; indeed, it exercised considerable economic dominance over the neighbouring area of Galilee. But it was clearly foreign territory, and Josephus…describes the Tyrians as ‘notoriously our bitterest enemies.’”
[2] France, Mark, 294. “[Jesus’s] initial intention is apparently not to engage in a ‘Gentile mission’ as such but simply to remain incognito (7:24), but events soon dictate otherwise and he responds, even if at first reluctantly, to Gentile needs.”
[3] France, Mark, 294. “The debate about purity has raised the question of how far, if at all, the mission of Jesus has a relevance beyond the community of Israel, whose observance of the Mosaic food laws was an effective practical barrier to social contact with those who did not observe them.”
[4] France, Mark, 294. “Mark’s specific deduction that Jesus’ teaching has ‘made all food clean’ signals a radically new approach which will in due time make possible the integration of Jews and Gentiles into a single community of discipleship.”
[5] France, Mark, 294. “The first pericope…highlights the racial issue, as Jesus. ‘debates’ with the Syrophoenician woman the basis on which the ‘children’s bread’ can properly be enjoyed also by the ‘dogs’…”
[6] France, Mark, 296. “Within that sequence this pericope marks the further opening of the door rather than an attempt to sing it shut again.”
[7] France, Mark, 296. “The whole encounter builds up to the totally positive conclusions of vv. 29-30, while the preceding dialogue serves to underlines the radical nature of this new stage in Jesus’ ministry into which he has allowed himself to be ‘persuaded’ by the woman’s realism and wit.”
[8] France, Mark, 297. “…Jesus wishes to get away from public attention…uses a ‘house’ for the purpose…but is unable to escape those in need.”
[9] France, Mark, 297. “…there is no doubt that here [Ἑλλην]carries its normal biblical connotation of Gentile (as opposed to Jewish), and the term Συροφοινίκισσα (the prefix Συρο- distinguished the Phoenicians of the Levant form those of North Africa around Carthage) reinforces the point. That such a woman chose to approach a Jewish healer, and even fell at his feet, indicates either desperation or a remarkable insight into the wider significance of Jesus’ ministry…”
[10] France, Mark, 297. “Few of those who approached Jesus had so much against, them, from an orthodox Jewish point of view. She was….a woman, and therefore one with whom a respectable Jewish teacher should not associate. She was a Gentile, as the double designation Ἑλληνίς Συροφοινίκισσα emphasizes. And her daughter’s condition might be expected to inspire fear and/or disgust, while the ‘uncleanness’ of the demon suggests ritual impurity.”
[11] William C. Placher, Mark, Belief: A Theological Commentary on the Bible, eds Amy Plantinga Pauw and William C. Placher. (Louisville: WJK, 2010), 104. “Unlike Jairus, she seems to take for granted that Jesus can work cures at a distance. Before a word is exchanged, she is already presented as a woman of deep faith.”
[12] Placher, Mark, 106. “It is her faith, though, that lies at the center of the story.”
[13] France, Mark, 298. “Jesus’ response, though nowhere near as brutal as in Matthew, is certainly not diplomatic.”
[14] Placher, Mark, 104. “What he says is harsh enough in our culture, but even harsher then, in a culture where dogs were not beloved house pets but disgusting scavengers who skulked about living on garbage. Calling someone a dog was a real insult…”
[15] France, Mark, 298. “The whole tone of the sentence is negative to the point of offensiveness, and suggests that Jesus has no intention of helping the woman.”
[16] France, Mark, 298. “The use of κυνάρια seems to add gratuitously to the Semitic neighbours as unclean animals. Biblical references to dogs…are always hostile. To refer to a human being as a ‘dog’ is a deliberately offensive or dismissive….Jews typically referred to Gentiles as dogs. The diminutive form (used in biblical literature only in this pericope), perhaps indicates the status of the dogs in Jesus’ image as dogs of the house rather than of the yard, but it does not remove the harshness of picturing Gentiles en masse as ‘dogs’ as opposed to ‘children’. It is the sort of language a Gentile might expect from a Jews, but to find it in a saying of Jesus is shocking.”
[17] France, Mark, 298. “…as a response to the Gentile woman’s request it is very harsh, and does not encourage her to expect help at the present time.”
[18] France, Mark, 298-299. “Jesus’ image (and his inclusion of πρῶτον) have given the woman the cue she needs, and enable her, on the basis of his own saying, to refute his οὐκ ἔστιν καλόν and replace it with a defiant Ναί, κύριε – ‘Yes, it is right’. By using the vocative κύριε (it’s only appearance in Mark…) the woman recognizes Jesus’ authority and her dependence on his help, but need not convey any more specific theological insight; it is an appropriate address to a distinguished stranger.”
[19] France, Mark, 299. “Jesus’ own image is thus pressed to its full extent, and provides the basis for her request to be granted, not refused. It is a remarkable twist to the argument, and one which displays as much humility on the woman’s part as it does shrewdness. She does not dispute the lower place which Jesus’ saying assumes for the Gentiles, and even accepts without protest the offensive epithet ‘dog’, but insists that the dogs, too, just have their day.”
[20] France, Mark, 299. “Putting it more theologically, the mission of the Messiah of Israel, while it must of course begin with Israel, cannot be confined there. The Gentiles may have to wait, but they are not excluded from the benefits which the Messiah brings. On this basis, she is bold enough to pursue her request; even the crumbs will be enough.”
[21] France, Mark, 296. “He appears like the wise teacher who allows, and indeed incites, his pupil to mount a victorious argument against the foil of his own reluctance. He functions as what in a different context might be called ‘devil’s advocate’, and is not disappointed to be defeated’ in argument.”
[22] Placher, Mark, 106. “Here yet again humanity and divinity come together in a single narrative of a single agent—the same Jesus who loses the argument can cure her daughter.”
[23] France, Mark, 299. “Διὰ τοῦτον τὸν λόγον makes it clear that the woman’s response, and the attitude which it reveals, has changed Jesus’s apparent intention. It is of course impossible now to be sure on the basis of the printed text alone whether his words were designed to provoke such a response, or whether he genuinely did intend to refuse her request and was persuaded by her argument. Much may have been conveyed by tone of voice and gesture. But Mark, by placing the incident in the setting of the opening up of Jesus’ ministry to the Gentiles…suggests that his initial reluctance should be taken with a pinch of salt.”
[24] Placher, Mark, 106. “If Mark did not show us Jesus’ initial harsh remark, we could not see the grace with which Jesus concedes defeat in an argument. That the woman does win the argument is a point any valid interpretation needs to acknowledge. To say that that could not happen is to deny Jesus’ full humanity.”
[25] France, Mark, 297. “That Jesus ultimately responded to a request from such a suppliant, and even that he was prepared to engage her in a serious dialogue, is typical of his unconcern for convention when it stood in the way of his mission.”
[26] France, Mark, 296. “As a result the reader is left more vividly aware of the reality of the problem of Jew-Gentile relations, and of the importance of the step Jesus here takes to overcome it. The woman’s ‘victory’ in the debate is a decisive watershed as a result of which the whole future course of the Christians movement is set not on the basis of Jewish exclusivism but of sharing the ‘children’s bread’.”
[27] Martin Luther, “Second Sunday in Lent,” Sermons Volume Two, trans. John Nicholas Lenker, et al, ed. John Nicholas Lenker. 2:126. “He compares her to a dog, she concedes it, and asks nothing more than that he let her be a dog, as he himself judged her to be. Where will Christ now take refuge? He is caught. Truly, people let the dog have the crumbs under the table; it is entitled to that. Therefore Christ now completely opens his heart to her and yields to her will, so that she is now no dog, but even a child of Israel.”
https://laurenrelarkin.com/2024/09/08/beloved-little-children-of-god/
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