Jesus and the Syrophoenician Mom
Preached at Decatur First United Methodist Church
June 16, 2024
Mark 7:24 From there he set out and went away to the region of Tyre. He entered a house and did not want anyone to know he was there. Yet he could not escape notice, 25 but a woman whose little daughter had an unclean spirit immediately heard about him, and she came and bowed down at his feet. 26 Now the woman was a gentile, of Syrophoenician origin. She begged him to cast the demon out of her daughter. 27 He said 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.” 28 But she answered him, “Sir, even the dogs under the table eat the children’s crumbs.” 29 Then he said to her, “For saying that, you may go—the demon has left your daughter.” 30 And when she went home, she found the child lying on the bed and the demon gone.
Like many people in my stage of life, I am in an ongoing battle with my children and their use of technology. A few weeks ago, my youngest asked if he could have some time to play on the family Nintendo Switch. I said something like, “How much time have you already played today?” and he said, “I don’t know, not that much.”
Now, in MY day, a kid could get away with that, but for better or worse I have an app on my phone that tells me how much time my kids have played on their devices, so I said, “Hang on and let me check.” Now, T. is 12. He’s a good kid, and he is as clever as he is charming. So as I reached for my phone he grabbed my arm and said, “No, no, no Mom. You don’t need to do that. This relationship is built on trust.”
And we both started laughing. T. could barely keep a straight face even as he was saying it. I think he was laughing at the irony of invoking trust while actively practicing deception.
I was laughing because this relationship is NOT based on trust, at least not that kind of trust.
If our relationship was based on trust that we will always do what the other wants us to do, we would not have survived the first sleepless nights of his life.
If this relationship was based on always keeping our promises, we would not have survived potty training.
This relationship is not based on trust, at least not that kind.
Now, to be clear, there IS trust here.
But that trust is built on something even more fundamental.
This relationship is based on love.
It’s love that keeps showing up, even when one of us does not get what we want,
It’s love that does not go away, even when we say something we shouldn’t have said,
or do something we should not have done.
Some call that unconditional love, and that’s not a bad word, but it tells you what it isn’t, not what it is, and I think that’s important.
The love that I am trying to practice with my family is deliberate and persistent, but warm.
It is resilient love, in that it is trustworthy, even when trust is broken,
and it stays open hearted even when it gets trampled on.
It is so hard. And yet, this is the way.
So, I know what you’re wondering. Did Theo get more time on the Switch? He did not. He gets to ask for what he wants, and as the parent I sometimes say no. This often leads to further conversation -
But mom, it’s raining and there’s nothing to do…
But mom, I finished all my chores and walked Zelda…
But mom, everyone else has unlimited screen time and you are the worst…
Some of these are more convincing than others.
My first inclination, when my kids ask me to change the limit I’ve set, is a hard no. The limits are in place to protect their developing brains, but also, to protect family harmony. When everyone is on the same page about what to expect from one another, and everyone respects the agreed upon limits, we have fewer arguments and more peace. But that doesn’t mean that my kids like the limits, or that I always hold them, especially when there’s a good reason to change them.
Limits certainly have their place - but, for those of us who have found freedom in the boundless love and grace of Jesus Christ, we really don’t expect him to be setting them, especially in a way that excludes and demeans people.
And so, today’s scripture reading is uncomfortable.
A desperate woman comes to Jesus, begging him to save the life of her child. He says no, and in doing so he calls her and her people, “dogs.” She cleverly and humbly argues her case, accepting the insult and the premise that she is not worthy. Then, and only then, does Jesus heal the girl.
I used the CEB Storytellers Bible in my research this week, and they describe it this way - “the harsh tone of Jesus’s response… does not fit our stained glass image of Jesus…” I found that validating. I consider it part of my job to help folks detach from ideas they have learned about God being spiteful, tricky, or judgemental. I’m always looking for ways to introduce the gracious love of Jesus to people who think they don’t deserve it, both inside and outside the church.
So, Jesus, he’s not helping me out here. Where’s the radical inclusion that we love to celebrate? Where is the boldness in pushing boundaries? Where is my warm, fluffy, kind Jesus?
I don’t know. But here’s what I do know. If you have an image of God, and it breaks, that wasn’t God. At best it was an incomplete image of God, at worst it was an idol.
I’ve tried to find a way to make it seem like Jesus isn’t doing what he’s doing here. The most logical one is to say that he’s testing her. Maybe. That’s not in the text though, so we’d by making an assumption. And if that’s what he’s doing, then she actually fails. Her response isn’t a faithful one, it’s just humble and clever. And while it might create consistency to say that Jesus was testing her, it’s still an idol that breaks for me, because I can’t follow a God who uses sick kids to test their parents, or the other way around.
I find that if I read a difficult scripture, one that makes me uncomfortable, and I feel that I need to defend God’s actions, I’m not really defending God. I’m actually defending myself from having to change my understanding of God. God does not need my protection. That’s not my job. My job, when I encounter a difficult scripture, or for that matter, a difficult situation, is to keep looking and listening for God. And that’s what I am trying to do.
So, here’s what we know - Jesus wants to be alone. He is actively avoiding people. It’s not working. A woman throws herself at his feet and begs for the life of her young daughter, who has an unclean spirit, or a demon.
We also know that, at this time, women were almost always subject to men. So, there is a power dynamic here, but the more we read the more complicated it gets. At this point in the story the narrator reveals that this mom is not Jewish, she’s Greek.
And then, Jesus sets a limit. "Let the children be fed first.” This general concept is not unusual in scripture. It’s not that God doesn’t love the whole world, but the work of salvation has a beginning, and it begins with the children of Israel. The limit keeps the work focused, and in this moment that limit could give Jesus the rest and alone time he seeks.
So, Jesus is tired and needs a break, and someone from outside his flock asks for help, could this be why he sets the limit? I get as grumpy and short-tempered as anyone (maybe more), and it’s hard to imagine talking to someone this way, no matter how tired and weary I am. In scripture we see Jesus get angry, and we see Jesus get sad, but there’s no other place in scripture where he does this. He is so cold and detached, and frankly, cruel. There is something different here. It really seems like they have history, like she’s given him a reason to refuse her request.
The Gospel of Mark wastes nothing. Every word matters. The Gospel writer mentions that Jesus is in Tyre, which is a small but powerful island in the Mediterranean Sea. Tyre has a long and complicated history with Israel and the Jewish people. Going as far back as a trade agreement between the two countries that allowed Solomon to build the temple in Jerusalem.
Things take a bit of a turn in 9th century BCE, when the Princess of Tyre married King Ahab of Israel. Her name was Jezebel. You might have heard of her. She famously worshiped the Phoenician god, Baal, and ruthlessly suppressed Israel’s worship of Yaweh, throughout her husband’s reign, and during the reign of her two sons. The Old Testament books of First and Second Kings tell the story, and it’s a wild one.
The dramatic and mysterious prophet Joel (3: 4 -8) describes the nation of Tyre as slave traders, who came through Israel following a devastating war to purchase Israelites and sell them into slavery. This is what Joel chapter 3 says of Tyre, the Lord says, “I shall rouse (the Israelites) to leave the places to which they have been sold. I shall make your deeds recoil on your own heads, by selling your sons and daughters to the people of Judah, who will then sell them to a distant nation.”
So, that’s revenge, right? Joel is prophesying that Israel will take God’s revenge on the children of Tyre.
Psalm 83 also mentions Tyre, here’s how that one ends, “Heap shame on their heads, Lord, until they seek your name. Let them be humiliated, and live in constant terror; let them suffer disgrace and perish. So let it be known that you, whose name is the Lord, are alone the most high.”
Jesus is both fully human and fully divine, and both of those have a bone to pick with the people of Tyre.
“Let the children be fed first, for it is not fair to take the children's food and throw it to the dogs." I wonder if Jesus thought of the words of Psalm 83 “Heap shame on their heads. Let them be humiliated, and live in constant terror.” Or if he remembered Joel’s prophecy that God’s vengeance would be delivered to the children of Tyre by Israel.
And so as the mother of one of those children knelt before him, what must have gone through his mind? Anger? Resentment? Compassion? Fear? Satisfaction? Empathy?
The problem with idols, or even with stained glass images, is that they are static. They don’t move or breathe. They cannot adapt or change, because they aren’t real. This story is not stained glass material, because it gives us a glimpse into just how real Jesus was.
Both Jesus and the mom at his feet are raw and tired. And they both know exactly who they are, and who the other is as well. She knelt, after all, and in humility she accepted his insult. Far from being a dominant oppressor now, she concedes that she is not worthy of all that Jesus offers to his people, and asks for the leftovers - "Sir, even the dogs under the table eat the children's crumbs."
If we let ourselves be distracted by our discomfort about what Jesus said, we might miss the biggest miracle of all.
Jesus - fully human and fully divine - set the limit.
Jesus - fully human and fully divine - changed the limit.
He had every reason, from every angle to stay on the other side,
And he decided, there are no sides.
Now, some of us are getting uncomfortable again, but for a whole new reason. Some of us need God to be unchanging. If Jesus said no, then that needs to be final. I feel like these are the same people who might earnestly say, “This relationship is built on trust! If you change your mind, how can we trust you?”
And the answer, of course, is that this relationship is not based on trust. If it were based on trust, God would have abandoned us long ago. We are very untrustworthy creatures. And if this relationship was built on us trusting God, we would not have stayed any longer than the first prayer that seemed unanswered.
This relationship HAS trust, but it’s not based on it.
This relationship is based on love. Love that keeps showing up.
It is love that is trustworthy, even when trust is broken,
It is love that stays open hearted, even when it gets trampled on. It is so hard.
If we explain away why Jesus did what he did, we miss the miracle of what he did, not just for her but within himself. There were generations of hard earned mistrust between them. The holiest and most divine thing he could do in that moment was to change his mind, and that’s what he did.
This relationship is based on trust, only in that we can trust God’s love to keep showing up and surprising us. Thanks be to God. Amen.
