The Sermon . . .

Rev'd Gregory Seach

The reading from Mark's gospel that we've just heard presents us with one of the most difficult, disturbing and uncomfortable presentations of Jesus anywhere in Scripture. The Jesus we see here seems churlish in his reluctance to help the Gentile woman, and then appears erratically to change his mind. It seems so out of character with the Jesus we feel we know and understand. And so, because (if we're honest, deep down inside) we actually don't much like our picture of Jesus, our comforting image of the "gentle Jesus, meek and mild" of our childhood prayers, to be disturbed or confronted, we tend to avoid this story, or seek to explain it away. Certainly, through the centuries, the Church has tried to soften the picture of the Jesus who so brusquely and churlishly deals with the request of the Syro-Phœnician woman; has tried to suggest that what is so obviously a fairly crushing "rebuff", is to be seen as not quite so crushing, nor such a rebuff. So, for instance, it has been suggested that Jesus was really only calling her a "little dog" or "puppy"- in a diminutive, affectionate kind of way: as if that would make any difference! Or that Jesus said the words with a smile, in a whimsical tone: as if anyone actually knew how Jesus said it!

But, if we're honest, we see that those "softenings" really are a little dishonest - an attempt to cling tenaciously to an image of Jesus who doesn't confront or disturb. But today, as we honestly listen to this gospel, we are confronted with a Jesus who does just that. And significantly, it seems to me, the people who are most "confronted" in this story are the first disciples of Jesus. So, it isn't surprising that, ever since, the people who have been most disturbed by this Jesus are his current disciples - you and me and our sisters and brothers in the Church. So what is going on here?

If we look at the context of this episode, perhaps we can understand a little more clearly what it is that is actually disturbing us. You'll recall that last week, we heard Jesus telling the Pharisees that what makes a person "clean" or "unclean" depends not on ritual observances or what goes into a person's mouth, but how a person lives his or her life and on what comes out of the mouth. Having just recounted that, it appears Mark wants to emphasise the point - so, by the end of this story, Jesus has, in fact, healed the daughter of a Gentile woman. Jesus has extended his ministry of healing, so it seems, beyond the children of Israel to the Gentile "dogs". And, as we will see next week, Mark makes the point even clearer when Jesus feeds 4,000 people, and the "crumbs" that are gathered up from that feeding are placed in seven baskets - seven being the traditional number associated with Gentile believers in the early church. So, having told the Pharisees that their traditional understanding of what makes someone "in" or "out" is wrong, Jesus seems in this episode to be showing that to the disciples who are accompanying him. And given that this is immediately followed by the healing of the deaf man, it is almost as if Mark is saying you need to hear and understand what is being said to you here!

Now this story, which appears to be talking about the inclusion of the Gentiles, may have been all well and good for Mark's original audience. No doubt, there were a number of Gentiles in Mark's community, and they were all very pleased, I'm sure, to hear that they really were included! But that last sentence indicates something of the shaky ground on which this reading of this morning's gospel puts us: what need is there for a group of Gentiles who are already part of the community of faith to be told a story that tells them they're part of that community! And furthermore, even if that rather "dodgy" reading is correct, what on earth does it have to say to us, today: to a community of faith that is, in fact, exclusively Gentile! It's hardly as if we need to feel "included".

Well, perhaps part of what we need to hear today is what the Pharisees and the disciples needed to hear in Jesus own day: that God's love, as embodied and displayed in Jesus, is utterly inclusive. It is not for us to decide, on some criteria we hold dear - even if we are utterly convinced (as the Pharisees were) that these criteria had been handed down from God - who is "clean" and who is "unclean", who is "in" and who is "out", or, in the jargon so depressingly familiar among some Christians, who is "saved" and who is "unsaved". That certainly appears to be part of what is lying behind the portion of the letter of James we heard as this morning's epistle reading. There, it appears, some in the churches to which James was writing were basing their treatment of others on the wealth those others had or could display. And again, perhaps we need to hear that: perhaps, for far too long, our church has been reluctant to speak out and risk offending those who were rich or powerful. A recent lecture by Foreign Minister Downer, in which he criticised church leaders for, as he put it, "chasing headlines" rather than attending to their "primary pastoral duty" indicates that, at the moment at least, the Church is, perhaps, not frightened to speak out against the powerful!

And that brings me, I suppose, to what I think is really going on in this morning's gospel, and why we find it so unsettling. Throughout Mark's gospel, Jesus has been proclaiming, "the kingdom of God has come near. Repent and believe the gospel." And again, Jesus has performed miracles as a vital part of the proclamation of that gospel. Yet, for so many, he has been seen as a "wonder-worker". So many people in Galilee and the region of Tyre, appear to have run after Jesus in the hope of being healed, that, wherever he went, Jesus "could not escape notice". Jesus came preaching a gospel of repentance, yet people preferred to see him as something else, someone who could provide signs or healings - wonders for them to gawp at. And perhaps Jesus' seeming churlishness with the Syro-Phœnecian woman comes from this. The miracles and wonders performed are an essential part of the proclamation of the gospel to the people of Israel - and here comes a woman, outside that faith, who seems interested only in getting her daughter healed! But then, in her response to Jesus - "even the dogs under the table eat the children's crumbs" - she shows an understanding that the power of God is at work in Jesus and any healing is linked to that!

And perhaps, too, that's what disturbs us about this whole story. Perhaps all too often we, too, look to Jesus for what we want from him, those little, comforting or consoling words he offers, and are reluctant to open ourselves to the full demands of the gospel in which those words are contained. Or perhaps we come to Church because of the chance it gives us to mix with people of like mind or interest, or of the same social strata, or because we find it offers us a comforting shield from the harsh realities of the world. In fact, of course, our Christian faith ought to expose our own fantasies and illusions to the truth of the gospel. And again, as this morning's epistle makes clear, sometimes we can even use "faith" as a shield to hide behind: as if our faith itself was a badge we can pin on and then forget, rather than, like the Syro-Phœnician woman, giving "life" to our faith through our actions.

But in her story, of course, lies the good news in today's gospel. Even if we do come to Jesus with mixed motives, even if we want to cling to the comforting and familiar Jesus we find more recognisable and more in keeping with our needs and insecurities - the "gentle Jesus meek and mild" - we always find him willing to meet us, and, out of his great love, willing to challenge us, to call us on, to lead us further into relationship with him. And that is, ultimately, far more "comforting" than any of our own projections. Because when the real Jesus confronts us - even in seeming brusqueness and rudeness, we find him whom the Church has always confessed: its Lord, not some "feel-good guru" or dynamic wonder-worker who performs "miracles" to make us feel better. Ours is a Lord who opens our ears and eyes so that we see and hear the truth of his gospel, and see and hear the wonders of the new creation his death and resurrection proclaim.