Can You Hear Me Now?

The dictionary defines “social status” as “a person’s standing or importance in relation to other people within a society.” That is, a person’s social standing – my standing, your standing – is based on how important other people think we are. And the flip-side is also true. In fact, humans have an incredible capacity to stratify and categorize people in society; that is, we like to fit people within a hierarchy, based on the perceived importance we place upon them. And we use existing words and give them new meaning. 

Words like colors: “yellow,” or “red.” Words like plants: “pansy,” or “buttercup.” Words like food: “fruit,” “nut,” “vegetable,” or “kraut.”  Words like insects and crawling things: “cockroach,” “butterfly,” “slug,” or “leech.” But the worst words seem to come when we give new meaning to animals: “pig,” “cow,” “donkey,” “rat,” or “snake.”

All of this is intended to place people into a social hierarchy, to define their status. Psychologists tell us that we do this, not because we feel superior, but because we are afraid. Afraid, most often, of what could happen – that is, our fears that come to life in our own imaginations.

The American horror writer, H.P. Lovecraft, said this: “The oldest and strongest emotion of mankind is fear, and the oldest and strongest kind of fear, is the fear of the unknown.”  

This fear of the unknown is why our strongest words are often reserved for those who are the least like us, and our enemies, those that wish to do us harm.

Here’s a bit of the background for today’s reading. Tyre and Sidon were Gentile territories. And in fact, they weren’t just territories that belonged to people who didn’t believe in the Jewish God, but they were considered “enemy territory.” The listeners of Mark’s Gospel would have understood this. The city of Tyre is considered a World Heritage Site, because so much of the world’s history stemmed from this area. In fact, it is connected to the construction of the Temple of Solomon. It wasn’t just a small, out of the way, gentile town. It was a big deal.

The people there, the Syrophoenicians, were the landowners, and business owners, they were those that would have provided the jobs to others because they were wealthy, and well connected. 

And the Gospel goes out of the way to make sure that we know that the person who came to talk to Jesus is a woman, a Gentile, and not only any Gentile, but a Syrophoenician. This is a woman of standing, in what Jesus and his disciples could call “enemy territory.” 

Over the years, we have all probably used some slurs when speaking of others. But also, over the years, we have matured, and we have come to understand others better, and more importantly, we understand ourselves and our own insecurities and fears better, so that we no longer use these slurs. 

Which makes Jesus using this term “dog” to describe not only the Syrophoenician woman, but all her countryfolk sound like fingernails on a chalkboard to us when we hear it. And it demands that we figure out an answer to what is happening. We certainly don’t want to think of Jesus as a bigot, nor do we want to see Jesus as a jerk, or worse, afraid of the unknown. 

What is going on?

The most common explanation given is that Jesus was just testing the woman’s faith, to see how strong it was, so that he could then heal her child and bless her. But if you think about this, you realize that this is just as mean as calling the woman and her countryfolk “dogs.” Here is a woman that has a demon possessed daughter, and she is afraid for her daughter’s life. She is coming to a foreigner, and, as a woman, going against this foreigner’s culture and religious laws, asking to speak with him and beg him for mercy to heal her daughter. And Jesus says, “Sure, but first, let me test your faith to see how strong it is. And if you pass this test, then I will show you mercy.” Not exactly a kind gesture toward a woman suffering from the fear of the loss of her child.

What we need to realize is that all we have here are the written words. We do not have the tone of Jesus’ voice, nor do we have the look on his face when he said these words. But, given the context of these passages within the Gospel of Mark, we can make some assumptions about what was really happening here.

Last week, we had Jesus telling the Pharisees and the leaders of the people that they are teaching people to follow their rules, rather than the commandments of God. He calls them hypocrites. And then, he leaves the comfort of his own region, and goes into enemy territory. It is unlikely that Jesus went in and with malicious intent called these people “dogs.”

For those that were following the adventures of Jesus in Mark’s Gospel, they would have had no issue with Jesus calling this woman a “dog.” In fact, they would have expected it; they would have expected the name calling and the dehumanizing, because these people were “enemies of the Jews,” and not to be trusted. Even the gentiles listening to this Gospel would have expected the people of Israel to behave like this.

And then Mark’s Gospel turns their expectations back on them, because Jesus grants the woman what she asks. He has essentially said, “Look, my children are the children of Israel. You are a mother, so you understand that I cannot feed you until my children have been fed.” And her response shows that she gets it, and she says, “Yes, but while we’re waiting for that, show me a scrap of mercy, since your children have an abundance.” The conversation is less of one intended to insult the woman or test her faith, but more of one intended to help the listeners understand.

The people listening to this would have been more shocked by Jesus’ response to this gentile woman than they would have been by Jesus calling her a dog. 

Over the course of Jesus’ ministry we have seen that when he heals people, he doesn’t just heal their physical ailments, but he restores them to their community, meaning that he restores their social status. A young girl who was demon possessed would have been a social outcast. This Gospel has gone out of its way to tell us that the mother is a woman, a gentile, and an enemy. Any one of those elements of this woman’s identity could have made Jesus ritually unclean, and yet, he speaks to the mother, and not only does he speak to her, but he answers her request, and her daughter is healed. In effect, Jesus has told the people that she has been granted the same love and mercy that his own children have received, and that the salvation of Israel is open to the Gentiles. That is, he had changed this woman, this mother’s social status, from one deserving hatred to one who deserves respect. She had gone from a “dog,” to a “child of God.”

As if to underscore this, the very next story takes us to the region of the Decapolis, which, itself, is still in Gentile territory. And Jesus encounters a man who is deaf, and who has a speech impediment. This man would also have been lower on the social hierarchy because of his ailment, and Jesus says – to the man’s ears – “Be opened.” 

Some of you may remember a commercial a few years ago for a major cell-phone provider. The spokesperson pops up in various locations around the country and in places that are remote and out of the way. And in each place, he holds a phone to his ear, and he says, “Can you hear me now?”

This is where context is important. After this story of the interaction between Jesus and this Gentile woman – and Jesus and the deaf/mute Gentile man – the Gospel of Mark shows that Jesus’ ministry is expanded to include the Gentiles. That is, before this story, the Gospel focuses on the Children of Israel, and after this interaction between Jesus and the Syrophoenician woman with a demon possessed daughter, the Gospel focuses on all the Children of God.

A quick recap. Mark’s Gospel calls those who would focus on the teachings of men rather than the teaching of God “hypocrites.” Then, Jesus enters enemy territory, and heals a demon possessed girl because her mother was willing to push forward and speak with Jesus against all cultural boundaries. Then Jesus heals a man who cannot hear, essentially saying, “Can you hear me now?”. And then, finally, the Gospel of Mark takes a turn to include not just the Children of Israel, but all of God’s Children, including the Gentiles, those very people that would have been called “dogs.”

And that is the question for the listener’s of Mark’s Gospel, just as much as it is a question for us today: What do we hear Jesus saying? And can we hear him now?

This interaction between Jesus and this Syrophoenician Gentile woman often brings up two types of reactions. For the first one, we get hung up on the idea that Jesus was a jerk, that Jesus used a derogatory slur, and that Jesus is a hypocrite himself. The Second is that we want to make this all about the woman herself, and her strong faith, so that we can feel good about Jesus and how he responded to this woman. 

And both of those responses show us that we would rather not internalize the teachings of Jesus, but externalize them. We want to see Jesus as a bigot, or the woman as a woman of strong faith. Both of them allow us to step back from the shocking nature of the stories, and focus our minds on anything but our own relationship to Jesus, because to do so would require us to change our ways.

The fact is, just as this story was intended to hit the listener’s of Mark’s Gospel with the truth of their own biases regarding social status and hierarchy, it is intended to hit us the same way. After all, unless you have Jewish ancestry, we are the “dogs” that this passage speaks about. You and I are only here because Jesus’ ministry turned from the Children of Israel, and opened his arms to all the Children of God.

Jesus has come to save the pigs, the cows and the slugs. He has come to save the fruits, the vegetables, the butterflies and the snakes. And more importantly, he has come to save even those demon dogs, our enemies.

Each time we find a way to denigrate others, to place them in a hierarchy, to define their Social Status based on the importance we give them, we need to remember that Jesus is looking at us, holding those same people in his arms and whispering:

“Can you hear me now?”

[This sermon was delivered at St. Alban’s Episcopal Church in Wickenburg, AZ on September 8, 2024.]