SERMON FOR SEPTEMBER 5, 2021.             

          I have shared this story with a number of you in the past, so forgive me for repeating myself.    My friend Margaret volunteered at the local senior center in her community to help serve their weekly free lunch. One day when she was handing out pieces of chocolate cake for dessert, she was shocked when a woman reached around the man in front of her in line to snatch the plate right out of Margaret’s hand. “There’s no need to do that, “ she told the woman, “there’s plenty for everybody.” “Yeah,” she replied, “but this piece has extra icing.” “Well,” my friend insisted, “that was not very nice.” The woman looked my friend right in the eye and said, “Honey, I’ve been making nice for over 80 years, and now I’m done.” She did not apologize, nor did she relinquish the prized dessert. Margaret’s initial reaction was that she should have done both, but she told me later, “I realized that I knew exactly where she was coming from. I constantly feel like I have to be nice about everything — mind my manners, make things work for other people, avoid conflict at all cost. I wonder if I could summon up the courage to buck those expectations, even in a crisis.”

          The nameless woman in today’s Gospel from Mark is an inspiration. There is a longer version of this story in Matthew chapter 15, where her failure to make nice is even more glaring. Matthew writes: “Just then a Canaanite woman from that region came out and started shouting, “Have mercy on me, Lord, Son of David, my daughter is tormented by a demon.” But he did not answer her at all. And his disciples came and urged him, saying ‘Send her away, for she keeps shouting after us.” How dare she?! A lady does not raise her voice in public and make other people uncomfortable. In Mark’s version, the desperate mother comes to Jesus, bows down at his feet and begs him to cast the demon out of her daughter. In Matthew’s more detailed account,    we learn that after his initial silence, Jesus rebukes he, saying, “I was sent only to the lost sheep of the house of Israel.” Nevertheless, she persists, pleading, “Lord, help me.” Both Matthew and Mark record the same response from the Lord, “. . . it is not fair to take the children’s food and throw it to the dogs.”

          Talk about not making nice. Jesus’ behavior is hard to understand. The New Testament scholar Matt Skinner poses this question as a starting point: “Is the woman passing a test or winning an argument?” Maybe Jesus has a twofold purpose in mind — he will heal the daughter, but first he will drive the mother to a powerful confession of faith. She is putting him to the test, and he will challenge her in turn. As a Gentile and a woman, she has no right to approach him, a Jewish man and respected teacher to boot. It is scandalous that she then asks him for a favor. His immediate followers would have thought nothing of it had he ignored her altogether. But instead he responds; he invites a conversation and through it they come to new common ground. The boundaries between them are redefined.

          The exchange happens publicly, in the presence of the favored children, who up until now had given no thought to the dogs hungry for a taste of their bounty. By engaging with the Canaanite woman, Jesus makes it clear that the One sent to the children of Israel has not been sent only to them. He implies as much in his remark, “Let the children be fed first, for it is not fair to take the children’s food and throw it to the dogs.” Sharing the good news with Gentiles is part of God’s longterm plan. By healing this sick child Jesus jumps the gun and moves beyond Israel’s exclusive claim to priority.

          Still, the Lord’s insulting language remains troubling. It’s one thing to suggest, “I’ll get to you when I have finished with these folks.” It’s another to call them children and imply that you are less than human.    Professor Skinner concludes, “This would make the story rather unique within Mark, and the woman the only person who has to endure and own a derogatory slur before receiving Jesus’ mercy.”

          On the other hand, perhaps the change the takes place is even more dramatic. Maybe Jesus begins with no intention of helping this outsider. Maybe this event reveals his true humanity — he too is growing as his life unfolds, and his encounter with this woman advances his own understanding of his mission. She takes up his image of children and dogs and turns it in such a way as to offer a new insight. She opens his mind and wins him for her cause and the cause of others like her. Professor Skinner concludes, “[I]t seems Jesus takes the Syrophoenician mother’s wisdom to heart. The timeline has been accelerated; gentiles receive blessings too, even now. The woman’s persistence benefits more than just one little girl.” Indeed, in the second story in today’s Gospel Jesus continues to travel in Gentile territory and heals another afflicted outsider. This time he responds immediately to those who, like the Syrophoenician mother, beseech him on behalf of a third party, a person dear to them and desperately in need. There is no resistance on Jesus’ part, no argument, no insult. He fulfills the prophecy of Isaiah in their presence, “Then the eyes of the blind shall be opened, and the ears of the deaf unstopped; then the lame shall leap like a deer and the tongue of the speechless sing for joy’ (Isaiah    35:5-6).

          The encounter ends with a striking inversion: After loosing the tongue of the deaf man, Jesus tells the witnesses to hold theirs. Ironically, his command falls on deaf ears; they may hear, but they don’t listen. “Jesus ordered them to tell no one; but the more he ordered them, the more zealously they proclaimed it.”    Throughout Mark’s Gospel we find Jesus urging discretion on his followers. At the beginning of his ministry Jesus announces, “The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God has come near” (Mark 1:15). But they must know the whole story to understand what that means . . . and what it does not. “It ain’t over ’til it’s over” — only after his crucifixion and resurrection, can they put all the pieces together and understand the good news of Jesus Christ. For now it is best to treasure the things seen and heard and ponder them in one’s heart. Yet once again, silence proves impossible: “They were astounded beyond measure, saying ‘He has done everything well; he even makes the deaf to hear and the mute to speak.’”

          The Syrophoenician woman dares to venture among those who would dismiss her and her daughter as lesser beings, because of their gender and ethnicity. She crosses that border and cries out for mercy. She does not back off when she is rebuffed; she does not take “no” for an answer; she does not make nice. Most importantly, she does not despair. This mother reminds me of another nameless woman who appears in Mark’s Gospel —    the one who was unclean because she had been suffering from a hemorrhage for 12 years.    “She had suffered much under many physicians, and had spent all that she had; and she was no better.” Still she hopes in Jesus: “If I but touch the hem of his garment, I will be made well,” she tells herself. An anonymous moment of contact, a handful of crumbs —those were the meager opportunities available to them. Yet they were enough to bring the healing these women longed for . . . enough to carry God’s grace beyond a wall of human prejudice . . . enough to keep their memory alive.

          In desperate circumstances, when it feels as if even God has turned from you, remember their witness of faith, hope and perseverance. Martin Luther insisted that as you believe God to be, so you shall find him. Hold fast to God’s promise of love and mercy, whatever the circumstances, and it will hold you. Amen.