Proper 18, Yr B (2024) The Rev. Karen C. Barfield

Proper 18, Yr B (2024)                                                            The Rev. Karen C. Barfield

Mark 7:24-37                                                                      St. Andrew’s Episcopal Church

  

In the name of the one, holy, and living God:

            in whom we live, and move, and have our being.  Amen.

 

Have you,

or someone you know,

ever experienced such desperation for your child,

 or any family member,

 or friend…

       that you would do absolutely ANYTHING to help find relief for your loved one? 

 

Including going up to a complete stranger…

        whether the County magistrate to seek involuntary commital or a restraining order,                

       or a psychiatrist or physician,

   or a priest or teacher,

    or a school principal or social worker,

 or a police officer… to beg for them for help?

 

Or perhaps in prayer you have pleaded to God over and over:

Help, please help…. 

        heal my child (or spouse, or parent, or friend)!

 

This was the state of the woman in this morning’s gospel reading.

 

She had clearly heard about Jesus and his power to heal,

and it didn’t matter to her what she had to do.

 

She had to find Jesus and speak to him so that he could heal her daughter,

whom she could not bear to see tormented for another day.

 

So, she finds Jesus,

            hiding out in someone’s home…

bows down at his feet,

        and begs him to heal her daughter.

 

In response to her humility and vulnerability he says something shocking to her,

“Let the children be fed first,

for it is not fair to take the children’s food and throw it to the dogs.”

 

The “children” are the Jews;

            the gentiles – this woman – he refers to as “dogs.”

 

He has called her a dog;

it was an ethnic slur.

 

And yet, she continues to respond to him with respect, saying:

            “Sir, even the dogs under the table eat the children’s crumbs.”

           

 

Until recently, I have read this story of the Syrophoenician woman and Jesus

as just another healing story of someone

– in this case a child –

        possessed by a demon,

albeit a story of an uncharacteristically brash Jesus.

 

Reflecting more deeply on the story, however,

I wonder if this also might be a story about the healing of Jesus!

 

Jesus has gone to the primarily Gentile region of Tyre and secretly enters a house there.

 

Somehow word gets out that he is in town…

the exact location of his hideout being revealed.

 

This Syrophoenician woman gets wind of it,

and in her desperation, she finds herself inside what was likely a stranger’s house,

   bowing down,

humbling herself at Jesus’ feet,

        begging him to cast the demon out of her daughter.

 

What then happens is astounding:

In his response,

      Jesus dehumanizes this woman who has come to him in desperation and humility.

 

This couldn’t possibly be the Jesus we know and love.

            Or could it?

 

We think that Jesus must have transcended all possibility of personal or systemic sin,

            and yet he refers to this woman as a “dog.”

 

It may be that Jesus understood that his message and ministry were only for the people of Israel, but how does he make such a prejudicial and biting remark?

 

Could Jesus himself have gotten caught up in the cultural system of oppression of his day?

 

Such systems are hard to escape!

Despite Jesus’ biting and demeaning retort,

this woman remains bowed before him in humility,

interceding for her daughter,

begging for just a crumb of mercy…

      that was all she needed!

 

And in her response:

“Sir, even the dogs under the table eat the children’s crumbs,” Jesus heard her.

     

Jesus saw her in her humanity,

stepping out in faith,

            seeking God’s healing touch,

     and he cast the demon from her daughter.

 

“For saying that you may go –

            the demon has left your daughter.”

 

She went home,

found her daughter lying on the bed,

and the demon was gone.

 

This woman, in her boldness, confronted Jesus.

 Jesus listened and took her words to heart. 

 

His ears were unplugged,

the scales fell from his eyes,

and his embrace was widened.

 

 

I wonder: Was it at that moment,

when confronted by this woman,

       that Jesus realized that God’s love and power and mercy are absolutely limitless

not reserved for the few but offered to the many?

 

Mark’s picture of God’s Kingdom is often surprising and unexpected,

            and this story reveals nothing less!

 

This woman, who started out as an interruption and intrusion in Jesus’ life,

served as a vehicle for God’s truth to be spoken. 

 

Her faith challenged Jesus to exercise his faith in a new way…

in a way that flew in the face of his religious and cultural traditions.

 

When Jesus healed people,

he often restored them to community.

 

Did the Syrophoenician woman heal Jesus?

            Did she restore him to community that he didn’t know he was missing?

 

What about us…

Are we able to receive healing from people who we consider as unworthy?

     Are we willing to listen to those who differ from us and have our hearts changed?

         Personally, I need to work on that…to be more open to truth in any place.

 

Real change often comes through conversation with those who are marginalized

or with those who may simply hold to any differing belief to ours…

       if we are willing to listen

      and have our ears unstopped

 and our hearts and way of life enlarged.

 

Fellow Episcopal priest, the Rev. David Henson, says:

 

“You see, when Jesus listened to the Syrophoenician woman,

he heard not only the truth of her reality.

      He also heard the brokenness of his own reality.

 

It is difficult to listen to others without interrupting,

to hear without reworking their experiences…

     particularly the experiences of those different from ourselves.

 

We must allow space to hear the brokenness of our own realities and of our own stories.  

 

We must listen to our own incompleteness….” 

 

(http://www.patheos.com/blogs/davidhenson/2015/09/crumbs-jesus-and-the-ethnic-slur-lectionary-reflection-mark-724-37)

 

When we do that, we can allow others to teach us.

            We can create space for the Spirit of God to heal us and our communities.

 

To do this, it is helpful to assume that folks we meet come with good intentions.

 

Most people do not wish harm.

            Most people have been injured

and are seeking healing and wholeness however they can.

 

Most people are doing the best they can with what they have at the moment.

 

Our invitation is to meet each other in our vulnerability and humility,

            receiving healing from wherever it may come.

 

God’s mercy and loving kindness are available to everyone, everywhere.

 

May we seek out God’s grace

            and offer such healing to the world.

 

The story in today’s gospel,

however uncomfortable,

is an invitation to new life

      if we will take its challenge and plead for healing for ourselves and one another.

 

Amen.

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Proper 19, Yr B (2024) The Rev. Karen C. Barfield

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Proper 17, Yr B (2024) The Rev. Karen C. Barfield