The Syrophoenician Woman
AM Psalm 56, 57, [58] • PM Psalm 64, 65
Isa. 51:17-23 • Gal. 4:1-11 • Mark 7:24-37
Today’s reading in Mark’s gospel has always been one of the most troubling for me. At the same time, it is also profoundly beautiful.
The days now were strenuous. Jesus was something akin to a rock star, famous for feeding thousands with a few loaves and fish, performing miracles, bucking authority. Everywhere he went, into villages, cities or farms, the sick were brought to him; people begged to touch even the threads of his clothes. The countless needs of the sick and suffering along with growing pressure from local authorities must have been exhausting. Jesus needed some rest, somewhere away from Galilee. He and his disciples went north to the region of Tyre, a foreign area where nearly all were Gentile.
You and I know this Syrophoenician woman. We have seen her eyes, the eyes of a mother sick with worry, desperate and willing to do anything to get help for her child, to suffer any indignity or public humiliation. She bows down at the feet of this man she’s heard of, this healer; begs him to help her daughter who is ill back at home.
The Jesus who responds is what troubles me so. He rebuffs her with a cold insult wrapped in an ugly prejudice:
Let the children be fed first, for it is not fair to take the children’s food and throw it to the dogs.
There are some who “explain” this response by saying Jesus, as both God and God-like, is perfect and therefore had his omnipotent reasons for saying this to the woman. Perhaps he allowed this to unfold so as to teach the disciples who were with him. Others suggest that Jesus, like us, was shaped by the culture that raised him; that he, too, was a work in progress and most importantly, was open to learning. We witness his humanity; perhaps Jesus was just as human as he was divine.
Maybe Jesus was just tired and grumpy.
I don’t know, and for me that is a-ok because what follows is so full of grace and beauty that it obliterates the prior. The woman doesn’t try to argue. She doesn’t get angry. She doesn’t turn around and give up. Without missing a beat, she accepts Jesus’ metaphor and uses it herself. With utter humility, she answers him:
Sir, even the dogs under the table eat the children’s crumbs.
How beautiful to know that Jesus was moved by her words and her faith! At that moment, the daughter was healed. This woman knew she wasn’t one of the “children” of Israel but she believed in the power of this Healer and somehow, also knew she deserved at least some “crumbs” of the salvation Jesus brought with him.
What is your take on this story? What gift does it hold for you?
Written by Bernadette Reda
I’m not a biblical scholar but I read that this was the only instance when Jesus allowed himself to be out-argued!