Crumbs and Grace

"Sir, even the dogs under the table eat the children's crumbs." 

 

 

There are a lot of profound sayings or responses in scripture and for me, this response is at the top of the list.

 

 

The response comes from Jesus' initial reaction to a Syrophoenician woman whose daughter lies ill from a demonic possession. She begs Jesus to heal her daughter and Jesus - one might say callously - responds to her request by saying "Let the children be fed first, for it is not fair to take the children's; food and throw it to the dogs." Immediately we want to rescue Jesus from this cold response, by dismissing it as a test or some sort of translation miscue that softens the statement. I say no, Jesus said what he said and meant it. We should hold him to it. What might be prudent on our part is to go a bit deeper. It's always a good idea for the scripture-reading Christian to go a bit deeper!
 

A traditional answer to the question of why Jesus answers her so is: He is not actually refusing her but rather testing her. That is, the rebuff, the insult, the rejection – these aren’t real at all but rather the means by which to test her faith, to see if she really, really believes in him. And, of course, she passes.
 

The trouble with this interpretation is that 1) there is no mention of testing in this story, and 2)I think it creates a rather cold-hearted picture of a God who taunts and tests us in our deepest moments of need. If not this interpretation, then what? Why on earth, that is, would Jesus react to someone in need in such a harsh manner?
 

As callous as his response was to her - I think Jesus was elevating this woman's status. Doesn't this sound more like the Jesus we know? Doesn't the thought of Jesus finding an outsider, an outcast, someone who is seen by his religious culture as a lesser human, then elevating that person's identity and humanity to be on par with his? I think it does.
 

Jesus invites this woman - this "woman; a Gentile, of Syrophoenician origin" - into a rabbinic dialogue. Rabbi's argued. It's how they discussed the meaning and interpretation of scripture and of God's deeds of power. Jesus invites her. If he didn't care for her at all, he would have blown her off completely, but he doesn't do this. Rather, he invites her into a dialogue.
 

At first glance, Jesus is being cold and callous, indeed, illustrating the prevailing mindset that Jewish men would have toward such an outsider, outcast, and lesser human. He in effect tells her no. Because what he has to offer is for the House of Israel alone, God's chosen, those who will hear his teachings and his voice that Israel will be restored to God. Why would he waste his time on someone who doesn't share this faith? What is this woman really after? Is she really seeking out the Son of God, the Anointed One, to heal her daughter, or is she just desperate and looking for a quick fix? I don't know if Jesus was thinking this way, but obviously there was hesitation in Jesus' willingness to help this woman.
 

One of my favorite biblical commentators, David Lose shares that, "Perhaps, just perhaps, Jesus had not yet realized the full extent of God’s mission or the radical nature of the kingdom he proclaimed.
 

We may find this a somewhat uncomfortable conclusion to reach. We want to think of Jesus as full-bodied, perfect, and immutable from birth, right? But if we are to take Mark’s narrative seriously, never mind the incarnational and creedal affirmation that Jesus is fully human as well as fully divine, then perhaps we should not be surprised to see a development in Jesus’ own recognition of God’s vision for the world. After all, the profoundly expansive notion of a kingdom that included everyone – no exceptions! – was completely and totally novel. (And still is!)
 

If so – if we can imagine that this woman didn’t simply pass a clever test but instead, and as Jesus himself says, demonstrated profound faith – then we might acknowledge that this brave mother actually taught the Teacher something and, therefore, might have some things to teach us as well.
 

"Sir, even the dogs under the table eat the children's crumbs." Such a profound statement, I think, should teach us all something. It should teach us something about ourselves and our own faith, it should teach us something about the stranger and those in need, and it should certainly teach us something about God's grace and the great need all of us have for just a morsel of it.
 

We are surrounded by those who would beg for such grace and indeed as we come together in this beautiful, air conditioned church, seeking comfort in our lives, there are thousands out there right now, surely pleading to God and to whomever will listen, for just a little grace; just a little relief. "Sir, even the dogs under the table eat the children's crumbs."
 

The present Syrian refugee crisis is beyond anything we have witnessed since WWII. Images of fleeing families with no homes to return to; refugee camps filled with career venturing Syrian and other middle-eastern workers and professionals, driven out from violence and the fear of death to find new homes; to resettle. The images of fear-stricken families, hungry children, and yes, even the most heart-wrenching of all, the Turkish policeman carrying the lifeless body of a child washed up on the shore.
 

We know that the cries of the parents and families are filled with exasperation for just a crumb of God's goodness, a morsel of God's grace. The good news is that churches in our diocese are involved and helping with this crisis and that you will hear of ways that you can help as well.
 

Yes, even across an ocean, we are able to do something, and we should. In the meantime we pray. Right now, prayer is the most powerful weapon we have. May our prayers open our hearts and our lives to all those, who are in despair, like this brave outsider and mother that we about in Mark’s gospel.
 

"Sir, even the dogs under the table eat the children's crumbs."
 

If you've never read the book "The Ragamuffin Gospel" by Brennan Manning, I highly recommend it. The Ragamuffin Gospel is filled with stories of God's grace. Brennan recounts an old story about Fiorello LaGuardia, who was New York City mayor during the worst years of the Great Depression.
 

 

One night in January of 1935, the mayor turned up at a night court in the poorest ward of the city. LaGuardia dismissed the judge for the evening and took over the bench himself. Within a few minutes, a tattered old woman was brought before him, charged with stealing a loaf of bread. She told LaGuardia that her daughter's husband had deserted her, her daughter was sick, and her two grandchildren were starving. But the shopkeeper, from whom the bread was stolen, refused to drop the charges. "It's a bad neighborhood, your Honor, " the man told the mayor. "She's got to be punished to teach other people around here a lesson."
 

 

LaGuardia sighed. He turned to the woman and said "I've got to punish you. the law makes no exceptions - ten dollars or ten days in jail." But even as he pronounced sentence, the mayor was already reaching into his pocket. He extracted a bill and tossed it into his famous sombrero saying, "Here is the ten dollar fine which I now remit; and furthermore I am going to fine everyone in this courtroom fifty cents for living in a town where a person has to steal bread so that her grandchildren can eat. Mr. Bailiff, collect the fines and give them to the defendant."
 

 

So the following day the New York City newspapers reported that $47.50 was turned over to a bewildered old lady who had stolen a loaf of bread to feed her staving grandchildren, fifty cents of that amount being contributed be the red-faced grocery store owner, while some seventy petty criminals, people with traffic violations, and NYC policemen, each of whom had just paid fifty cents for the privilege of doing so, gave the mayor a standing ovation.
 

 

What an extraordinary moment of grace for anyone present in that courtroom! The grace of God operates at a profound level in the life of a loving person. Oh that we would recognize God's grace when it comes to us (Manning 91, 92)!
 

 

"Sir, even the dogs under the table eat the children's crumbs." Just a little of what Jesus offers, changes lives.
 

I repeat this statement that the Syrophoenician woman responded with to Jesus, because it is a statement of victory. As I said, Jesus may have seen an outsider in his midst, but he invited her into a conversation, literally an argument as rabbis commonly bantered, and she won the argument! This non-Jewish, non-male nobody, wins the argument with the great Teacher and Master and Jesus has no problem with it. Immediately her daughter is healed.
 

Jesus invites the least likely of all people into relationship with him and restores all people to God by his grace and favor. And we are called as well to invite the least likely of all people into this fellowship of believers. It is only when we open up our selves, both as individuals and as a congregation, to the other, are we the viable, healthy, robust people of God that Jesus calls us to be.
 

Elsewhere in Mark’s Gospel, Jesus says that only those who give away their lives will find it. I think that’s true both in our individual and congregational experience. And I think Jesus first learned just how true that is from this fiercely loving mother.
 

May we too recognize, celebrate, and give thanks for the extraordinary grace that God offers to us through Jesus…and the least likely through whom the Spirit chooses!