What Jesus Learned on His Summer Vacation

James 2: 1-17Mark 7:24-37

 You know what it’s like to really need a vacation?  That sense of exhaustion/burn out, the impatience, even depression—think of all that because it’s the way into understanding what Jesus is doing in the Gospel today.  Understand, not excuse, because exhausted or not, Jesus’ behavior is downright rude and unmessiah-like.  But, it’s not like we haven’t all been there ourselves.
It seems that Jesus has decided to take a break.  He’s headed over to Tyre, on the Mediterranean coast.  Tyre is about 40 miles from Jesus’ usual stomping grounds in Galilee.  It’s also a Gentile town.  Here, Jesus can take a break from all his Messiah work.  No one here will know what he’s doing, or care—what happens in Tyre, stays in Tyre, right?  But, unfortunately for Jesus, what happens in Galilee doesn’t stay  in Galilee and his reputation has proceeded him. 
Despite his best efforts at secrecy, as soon as he gets there, a woman needs to see him.  It’s worth wondering what exactly she believes.  She’s a Gentile, so it’s not like she is interested in whether or not Jesus is the messiah.  All that religious talk about Jesus as the Son of Man or the Son of God would be completely irrelevant.  We might say that she believes in hope, and Jesus is the object of that hope.  She is a mother.  Her daughter is inexplicably sick—possessed by a demon, which means “we don’t know what’s wrong with her.”  But her mother isn’t giving up.  There must be something that can be done!  Then someone tells her about this guy, Jesus, up from Galilee.  Seems he’s done some amazing things there.  That’s enough.  She’s willing to put her hope anywhere.
So she goes to see Jesus.  She knows it won’t be easy for her, a Gentile, to see him—Jews don’t exactly have a reputation for openness.  His hostile response doesn’t surprise her.
I might mention here that you will often find commentators who, in an effort to protect Jesus’ reputation, suggest that Jesus is testing her faith with his challenges, knowing all along that he is going to do what she asks.  I don’t think that idea protects his reputation.  After all, who goes around challenging a desperate mother to see how desperate she is?  Her being there shows her state of mind.  In any case, what faith is there that needs testing?  It’s not like she is asking to join his band of disciples. 
It’s not the Gentile woman’s faith that is being tested.  If anyone is tested here, it is Jesus.  This mother believes in hope.  Things have to get better for her daughter, and she is willing to do whatever it takes to see that hope through.  But Jesus—he isn’t so sure.
Jesus preaches the Kingdom of God, that place where all people will one day know God’s will and presence in their lives.  His signs and miracles point to that new reality.  His teachings and stories describe it.  But what Jesus does not know is whether he is ready to bring that reality one step closer.  One day all people will be invited. One day—but now?  Jesus is not sure he has anything to give to this outsider.  So he tells her, maybe sadly, maybe defensively, my mission is to the children of Israel alone.
But notice what this outsider is asking for.  She’s not asking to be a disciple; she’s not looking for Jesus to change her life. What Jesus is offering to “the children,” there’s so very much.  All that healing, all that power—isn’t it possible that a little might just trickle over the edge, and spill out into other lives?  Can’t she just get some leftovers?
In this request, the Gentile woman understands Jesus’ miracles better than he does.  After all, this is the man who fed 5000+ people with 5 loaves and 2 fish, and when he was done, he collected 12 baskets of leftovers.  Leftovers!.  Once while this man was headed to heal someone else, a woman touched his clothes and was healed without any effort on his part at all—leftovers. So much divine power, so much of God’s presence and salvation, just maybe it could just spill out over the table and out into the world, the Gentile world. 
It seems that Jesus is willing to give this larger hope a chance.  After he heals this woman’s daughter, he leaves Tyre and goes home.  But he takes the scenic route.  First he heads up to Sidon, Gentile territory, north still on the coast.  Then he goes back to Galilee, but instead of heading to Capernaum, his usual haunt, he goes around to the other side of the lake, passing through the Gentile regions, where the other healing story in our reading takes place.  Was this man, were these crowds, Jews or were Gentiles included as well?  The story does not say; and maybe it doesn’t matter so much anymore.
What’s hard for Jesus to believe is almost impossible for us.  That grace can be active in the world outside our control?  It’s hard enough to believe that grace can be active in our lives at all.  We claim this new reality, this Kingdom where we really belong, but we keep bringing all those old habits in, acting as if God’s presence makes no difference.  That’s what our second reading, from James is about.
James’ people are bringing their old habits into the church. James has to remind them to be nice to the poor people who might come to church.  Now this seems like a no-brainer—we all know to be nice to anyone who comes to church, right?  But in an insecure economy, where no one’s employment is guaranteed, where insurance and bank accounts are nonexistent, and nearly the whole congregation is only a week or two of  bad luck away from being that poor homeless and hungry man, being nice to the poor man makes no practical sense.  One might sympathize with the poor man’s plight, but the real hope lies with the rich man.  That’s the guy who can help when trouble strikes—he’s the one who might employ you or lend money.  So you see, they aren’t being rude to the poor man—they’re networking with the rich.  They might need him someday.
James points out how well that ill-placed hope has worked for them in the past.  How is that working for you, being nice to the rich?  Have they really come to your assistance when you needed them?  Then he points out to the church what they really all should know—they have a different hope now.  It’s a hope based in a community where they belong, where helping each other is the way of life.   It’s a hope based on God’s presence and strength, the assurance that the One who has called them and inspired them on this way of life will not disappear when times get tough.
This hope is what we are about—a hope based not on who you are but on who God is. Jesus brings this hope in his healing today, of God’s presence pouring out , over the limits of our  imaginations and out into the world.  God’s presence, Christ’s path, the Holy Spirit’s inspiration—all these call us to a new way of living.
Last week I asked about hope—where you see it.  One of the answers (below) referred to the Escondido Peace March, an effort of symbolic unity created by the various players in community including former gang members, the Police Department, Hispanic leaders, and others.  What was surprising about this March is how negative some of the responses were to this coalition.  “You can’t trust the police!,” claimed one side.  “We just need to get rid of all the immigrants,” railed another.  The point is to keep fighting until one side wins.  The Peace March frames the community picture  differently.  All these people want the same thing. Is the only hope really in endless conflict? Answers will take time.  It will take understanding, and dialogue, and maybe giving up something on all sides, and it will take grace, God’s power of reconciliation, spilling out into the cracks between us all.
So, I leave you with a suggestion.  This week, in the name of that hope—do something irrational, even crazy by the standards of the world.  It makes no practical sense for James’ congregation to welcome the poor man—yet James urges them to do so.  It makes no sense for us to offer thanks or give assistance.  What about listening for the wisdom in an opinion other than your own or talking to a stranger?  What might you see of God’s presence in those others?  Maybe we’ll see what Jesus saw in Tyre—grace pouring over the barriers and boundaries and into all those other lives.
The Gospel, by most any standard, is crazy.  What crazy blessing do you know?
May God bless you with enough foolishness to believe that you really CAN make a difference in this world, so that you are able, with God’s grace, to do what others claim cannot be done.
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One Response

  1. Milly – Reminds me of the Daughter's of the King Motto – “….Lord, I cannot do everythiing, but I can do something. What would You have me do today.” In our thoughts, our words, and our actions I believe we can make a difference.

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