Mark 7:24-29
Jesus went with his disciples into the territory of Tyre…While there, a woman whose young daughter was possessed by a demonic spirit hear about him and came and fell at his feet. She was a Syrophoenician – a pagan. Nevertheless, she begged Jesus to cast the evil spirit from her daughter.
But Jesus said to her, “The children must be fed first. It would be wrong to take the food meant for the children and throw it to the dogs.” But she spoke again, saying, “That is true, sir,” but even the dogs eat the scraps under the table that fall from the children’s meal. Then Jesus said to her, “Woman, you have great faith. Go now to your home for the demon has left your daughter.
As a bystander, it would never have occurred to me to view that woman’s behavior as a sign of faith. “Presumptuous” would have been my diagnosis-downright pushy. Jesus, though, seemed to think that she showed exceptional faith-greater faith than any he’d seen to date (according to one translation).
How so? It certainly wasn’t that she was some great ‘closet” believer in orthodox religious principles. She as much as admitted that she was not. Apparently, he felt that it was indicated in her flat refusal to accept his attempt to dismiss her as being unworthy of God’s help.
She reminds me some of the young woman who was having difficulty getting into college. When she received yet one more turn-down, she wrote to the admissions office of that school, saying:
Dear Admissions Officer,
I am in receipt of your rejection of my application to your institution. As much as I would like to accommodate you, I find that I cannot accept this rejection. I have already received five rejections from other universities and colleges, and five rejections is, in fact, over my limit. This, then, is to inform you that, even though it may inconvenience you, your non-acceptance of my application is hereby rejected. I intend to appear for classes on August 29th.
One could argue, of course, that this, too, was mere pushiness. Unlike either of those women, if you or I received a rebuff from someone of stature or authority, aren’t most of us inclined to back off-even to give up on whatever it was. Haven’t we, as Christians, sometimes been taught that it is commendable to be “meek” and blessed to be “poor in spirit”? Or, that one must never harbor an inflated estimate of himself, etc.? The answer is “ Yes, that’s a common teaching within Christianity.”
So why, then, is Jesus showing such enthusiasm for this lady who seemed so presumptuous, assertive and obtrusive that she won’t accept gracefully the fact that that she did not happen to qualify for his help? (That IS what he told her, at first.) By what twist of logic does THAT become “great faith”?
First, let it be noted that it certainly isn’t always so. There are kinds of impudence, insolence, and brazenness that are nothing but the rawest form of arrogance-have nothing whatsoever to do with faith.
But haven’t we also seen (and maybe ourselves been guilty of) a kind of prissy humility that is used a reason for quitting when things get tough or frustrating, or when we encounter opposition? Isn’t there a kind of “safe” tentativeness and reticence in which, having taken a stab at whatever it was, one’s conscience is now cleared for giving up? Along with it goes carefully keeping one’s dreams always in fuzzy shades of gray, not in sharp color. Hopes are kept safely general, always cautious, minimal, and somewhat indifferent. Prayers given by such a person have no teeth to them.
Speaking of that, I read only this week, a touching incident that bears somewhat upon this. The writer tells of taking his family to a restaurant. When the meal was served his six-year-old son, who had recently become interested in matters religious, said that he wanted to “say grace” before they ate. So, there at the restaurant table, in a very audible six-year-old voice, he prayed:
God is good. God is great. Thank you God for our food, and I will thank you more if Mom lets us get ice cream for dessert. And liberty and justice for all! Amen.
The writers says,
Along with the laughter from the other customers at the surrounding tables, I hear a woman remark in disgust, “That’s what’s wrong with this country. Kids today don’t even know how to pray; asking God for ice cream! Why, I never!” My son heard it and burst into tears. He asked me, “Did I do it wrong? Is God mad at me?” As I held him and assured him that he had done a terrific job and that God was certainly not mad to him, an older gentleman approached the table. He winked at my son and said, “I happen to know that God thought that was a great prayer.” “Really?” my son asked. “Cross my heart,” the man replied. Then, in a theatrical whisper, he added (nodding in the direction of the woman who remark had started all of this), “Too bad she never ask God for ice cream. A little ice cream is good for the soul sometimes.”
Naturally, I bought my kids ice cream at the end of the meal. My son stared at his for a moment and then did something I certainly will never forget. He picked up his sundae and, without a word, walked over and placed it in front of the woman. With a big smile he told her, “Here, this for you. Ice cream is good for the soul sometimes, and my soul is good already.”
Of all my children, he is by far my most trying: the quickest to anger, the first one to break something, and the last one to do as he is told. None of that matters though, ‘cause like he said, his soul is good already.
That little boy’s comment, as he presented his ice cream to that priggish and imperious woman, goes right to the core of this: “My soul is good already.” Yes! While not overlooking any of the obvious dangers of inappropriate pride and self-importance, it is, at the same time, a major cop-out to trivialize or disparage or underrate the good that resides in you and me.
It is sacrilegious to shrug off as inconsequential, the unique light with which each of us has been endowed. That’s why it IS an explicit matter of faith to be able, in our most vulnerable and insecure moments, to speak and to act as one who knows that. “I carry in me the very image of God. I am a full-blown bearer of God’s presence; God has something unique to offer through me; and, by whatever passion and courage God gives me, I will not allow it to be discounted.”
That is what that ancient woman did. She said, in effect, “Yes Jesus, I realize that I am a pagan and that I know much too little about matters spiritual. But I know that my soul is good. So, whoever God is, I’m daring to believe that that God cares about me and cares about my troubled daughter’s problems”.
Do you begin to see what is at stake here? It is that, while most of us human beings are bothered by and worried about the most unfortunate sides of us(our stupidities, weak spots, bad motives), that leads much, much too easily to falling off the other side of the bed-denying or shrinking back from the best that there is about us. There is something seductive about mediocrity, “averageness,” and self-deprecation. It usually seems safer and simpler.
Letting yourself off the hook, on the grounds that you are suffering from an acute case of “averageness,” can be made to sound almost humble, can’t it? Faced, for example, with someone who has given of himself sacrificially or who has poured herself out in tackling some horrible problem, have4n’t you heard it said, “That’s just wonderful, but I could NEVER be like that!” That is not humility at all, nor is it honest. Had she said, “I am unwilling to pay the personal price to apply myself as did he, “or” I am too protective of my own comfort and security to take risks or made sacrifices like that, ”then that would come closer to the truth. But the “I-could-never-be-like-that” statements are no more than denial of the best that there is about us.
That is also what it is when someone says,
“I could never forgive that.”
“I could never live with that.”
I”I am incapable of making adjustments like that.”
“I’ll never understand that.”
“I’m much too hurt to ever come back to life after this.”
All that is, is a forcible pushing away of the best that there is to us, an implicit denial of the fact of God’ image in us.
That is also what it is when I use my heredity, or my upbringing, or my former bad experiences, or yet other supposedly built-in flaws and God-given defects as a means to keep the lid on any high expectations of me. Humble as that can be made to sound, that’s all it is: distracting or excusing ourselves from the best that there is in us and about us and to us. It frees us to give up after taking a timid stab at something and have it fail. It makes it seem okay not to be as effective, as powerful, as determined, or as loving as God has created us.
You may have heard the story about the woman who accompanied her husband to his physician’s office for the report session, following his physical. The doctor called her into his office alone and told her, “Your husband is suffering from a very serious condition, which will be substantially worsened by any stress, whatsoever. In fact, you are the keep to keeping him alive. This is what you need to do or he’ll be dead within a year.
Each morning, cook him a elaborate, but healthy breakfast. During those early morning hours, always be pleasant and playful and accommodating. Similarly, make lunch and diver not only delectable and nutritious, but also festive and blissful times. Don’t burden him with chores. Don’t bother him with your problems. Make love with him daily and, in short, be right there to accommodate his every whim. If, for the next twelve months you do all of that, he’ll recover from this and be well again.”
As they were walking out, the husband asked, “Well, what did the doctor say?”
That you’re going to die, “ she replied.
Right! She’d already decided that she was not THAT good. And people do that. Whether it is the deepest of our capacity to love, or of our ability to feel empathy, or our determination to see justice, or a unique talent or passionate concern or special insight, so often it feels simpler and safer to keep the lid on it. For once a person gets out there, living close to the best of what God has made of him, there’s no telling what will happen. Who knows what you’ll get drawn into, what risks will tempt you, how it could change you remake you, or even radicalize you!
There is an old, somewhat familiar legend that addresses this. It tells of a primordial time when people had so abused their wisdom and so twisted the good, that the angels met together and decided that, for the time being, the true wisdom and good needed to be hidden from human beings, lest they pervert them. The problem was, though, “Where could they hide them?”
One angel suggested burying them deep in the earth, but the others said that it would only be a matter time before humans would dig down and find them. Another suggested the bottom of the ocean. That, too, was rejected, because the human fascination with bodies of water was bound to bring ocean exploration. For the same reason, outer space was also rule out as a hiding place. They were stymied until a heretofore silent angel came up with the perfection solution. He said, “We must hide the real font of good and the true wisdom deep inside of the human beings themselves. By everything I’ve seen of them and know of them, the last place they would expect to find good is in themselves.”
Good point! Oh, don’t push it too far, or it becomes arrogance. But a real and vital part of faith is just this: the taking responsibility for one’s giftedness, the owning of the particular formulations of good that are ours, and the making sense of that particular grace of God that has been allocated to each one of us.
That, again, is what that Syrophoenician woman was doing that day when she refused to be dismissed, saying in effect, “Look, I, too, am a part of the family of God. Even though I’m not a Jew, I, too, carry God’s image. I, too, am some of the salt of the earth and light of the world. Now, for God’s sake, please help me: And an open-mouthed Jesus said, “Woman, GREAT IS YOUR FAITH! What you ask will be done.”
So that isn’t brazenness or impudence or lack of modesty. No! It is a person who knows that she is a daughter of God and is determined to proceed according. Any of us can do that. But we do have to be willing to give up the safe, narcotic comfort of false humility, of calculated mediocrity, of intentional “averageness,” and of protective indifference.
It is worth it, though. For a lot of us, this is the single most unexplored frontier-this one of discovering all that it can possible mean to be the person that each of us is, as seen through the eyes of God.
Cliff Schutjer served as a minister to The First Congregational Church of Mansfield for over 45 years and was named Minister Emeritus in 2007. He is a graduate of Union Theological Seminary in New York City and of Anderson College in Anderson, Indiana. During his years in Mansfield he worked on a broad range of civic and health care boards and activities. He and his wife Pat are now retired and living in Phoenix, Arizona. They are the parents of three children.
