The children's crumbs

From there he arose and went to the region of Tyre and Sidon. And he entered a house and wanted no one to know it, but he could not be hidden. For a woman whose young daughter had an unclean spirit heard about him, and she came and fell at his feet. The woman was a Greek, a Syro-Phoenician by birth, and she kept asking him to cast the demon out of her daughter. But Jesus said to her, "Let the children be filled first, for it is not good to take the children's bread and throw it to the little dogs." And she answered and said to him, "Yes, Lord, yet even the little dogs under the table eat from the children's crumbs." Then he said to her, "For this saying go your way; the demon has gone out of your daughter." And when she had come to her house, she found the demon gone out, and her daughter lying on the bed.

Again, departing from the region of Tyre and Sidon, he came through the midst of the region of Decapolis to the Sea of Galilee. Then they brought to him one who was deaf and had an impediment in his speech, and they begged him to put his hand on him. And he took him aside from the multitude, and put his fingers in his ears, and he spat and touched his tongue. Then, looking up to heaven, he sighed, and said to him, "Ephphatha," that is, "Be opened." Immediately his ears were opened, and the impediment of his tongue was loosed, and he spoke plainly. Then he commanded them that they should tell no one; but the more he commanded them, the more widely they proclaimed it. And they were astonished beyond measure, saying, "He has done all things well. He makes both the deaf to hear and the mute to speak."

- Mark 7:24-37

In today's reading, Jesus travels to Tyre and Sidon. This is a coastal region of Palestine, and they are two Gentile cities. From there he arose and went to the region of Tyre and Sidon. And he entered a house and wanted no one to know it, but he could not be hidden. This is not the first (nor even the second time) we've been told that Jesus tries to find some peace in the midst of all of his activities, and privacy -- to get away and rest, and to pray. We recall from Thursday's reading, the story of the feeding of the five thousand, that Jesus' original intention was to encourage his apostles to rest after their first successful mission, and that eventually he went by himself to the mountain to pray.

For a woman whose young daughter had an unclean spirit heard about him, and she came and fell at his feet. The woman was a Greek, a Syro-Phoenician by birth, and she kept asking him to cast the demon out of her daughter. We've heard this story before in Matthew's gospel (see commentary here). But let us take it in the context of Mark's gospel. This is a familiar sight, a parent asking for a child to be healed. The last episode like this was in the story of Jairus, a leader of the Synagogue, who wished for his daughter to be healed (see last Monday's reading, Talitha, cumi). But, in contrast, this is no leader of the synagogue. This is a woman, a Gentile, a Greek-speaker who is Syro-Phoenician by birth. She is an outsider, and her condition is reflected in her dialogue with Jesus.

She is pestering, repeatedly. We are told of her persistence, and then finally given the following conversation with Jesus: But Jesus said to her, "Let the children be filled first, for it is not good to take the children's bread and throw it to the little dogs." And she answered and said to him, "Yes, Lord, yet even the little dogs under the table eat from the children's crumbs." How sad and pathetic this sounds, but there is more to it than its immediate sense of insult. The children, one presumes, are the children of Israel, the Jews. But she is challenged by what he tells her, and we can assume that even his attention in speaking to her tells us (and her) something. Ordinarily in these circumstances at the time, a Jewish man would be under no compulsion to speak to this woman, and she is pestering him. We must take his response to her as she does: he's goading her for a response. And this "goading" explains his reaction when she does respond with her clever retort. She's using her head, she's persistent, and, importantly, she responds to the sign he has given her (even if it seems negative). Then he said to her, "For this saying go your way; the demon has gone out of your daughter." And when she had come to her house, she found the demon gone out, and her daughter lying on the bed.

Again, departing from the region of Tyre and Sidon, he came through the midst of the region of Decapolis to the Sea of Galilee. The Decapolis is also a Greek-speaking region by virtue of its Hellenistic colonial origins; but this is Jesus' home territory, where the native Semitic cultures were mixed with the Greek and Roman.

Then they brought to him one who was deaf and had an impediment in his speech, and they begged him to put his hand on him. And he took him aside from the multitude, and put his fingers in his ears, and he spat and touched his tongue. Then, looking up to heaven, he sighed, and said to him, "Ephphatha," that is, "Be opened." As with the story of Jairus' daughter, we are given here the word that Jesus speaks in Aramaic as this man is healed. My study bible has a note here that is points out that Jesus heals in various ways. Sometimes he says a word, as in this case, sometimes he commands people to act (such as to take up a bed, or wash in a pool), sometimes he touches people. We also note the similarity to the healing of the blind man: before the man was instructed to wash at the pool of Siloam, Jesus spat on the ground to make a clay which he applied to the man's eyes. The note continues: "Here he takes a man aside for a private and unusual act of healing. The ways of God at times do not make sense to us, not because he is illogical, but because his nature transcends our capacity to understand." We also must note here that looking up to heaven (such as he did at the feeding of the five thousand) is a sign of intimacy with the Father in prayer. This is the way we should read such "signals" in the gospel. My study bible also notes that Jesus' "sighing" is done out of deep compassion for the man's pitiful condition.

Immediately his ears were opened, and the impediment of his tongue was loosed, and he spoke plainly. Then he commanded them that they should tell no one; but the more he commanded them, the more widely they proclaimed it. And they were astonished beyond measure, saying, "He has done all things well. He makes both the deaf to hear and the mute to speak." Jesus wishes to keep his messianic identity secret, but that doesn't work in the Gospels. The message is always proclaimed widely because of the enthusiasm of the people. My study bible notes, "The gospel is so powerful that it simply cannot be contained." Making the deaf to hear and mute to speak is considered a messianic sign, from the prophecy in the Book of Isaiah.

So, where do we go from here with this lesson during Lent? We must first of all understand persistence. It doesn't matter what we think we get in life; sometimes obstacles arise. But the dialogue with our Creator in prayer doesn't stop. We take what "signs" we get and we go forward, we persist. I don't want to suggest that God is always personally goading us when we fail. What I am suggesting is similar to the message in the feeding of the five thousand with the loaves and the fishes the apostles had. We start where we are, but we must persist. The life of prayer is not about how we think things should happen or the outcomes we desire. The life of prayer is about our persistence in keeping up a spiritual dialogue with Creator. Whether that is done in silence, through the repetition of simple or short prayers in contemplative prayer, or more formal prayers - and even through worship in a formal service - the real point of prayer is persistence. We continue to return, to develop relationship. This is what has happened with the Syro-Phoenician woman. Back in his home country around the Sea of Galilee, the "opening up" of the ears and tongue of the deaf man with the speech impediment is a clear sign of messianic identity. Although Jesus forbids them to speak, and tries to take the man aside to heal him in private, all "tongues are loosed," so to speak. He takes compassion on the woman for her persistence, and compassion on the man because of his ailment. It doesn't matter who or what we are, or how we get to him. In the case of the deaf man, his friends or family beg Jesus to touch him, fully aware of Jesus' power. In both cases, there is intercession happening: the woman pleads for her daughter's healing, the crowd pleads ("begs") for the deaf man's healing. We can plead for others, and we can be persistent on behalf of others. And others can do the same for us. We must not forget the communion of saints. Whatever way we get there, the message is in persistence, in taking the initiative to establish this relationship. In both of these cases, we have a picture of a reluctant Jesus: in the first case, he goes into a house and wishes for no one to know he is there; in the second case, Jesus is first "begged, " and then takes the man aside and finally commands his friends not to tell anyone what has happened. Persistence may take many forms: we ask others to pray for us or with us; if one form of prayer does not suit us, we can try another; or perhaps formal services are better. What is important here is our willing participation in this dialogue, the mind in the heart, and our creativity, wit, intelligence and persistence in seeking that Source. It's all appreciated. All of life can be a sacrament if we let it. We don't give up on prayer; our choice and our faith is as important in this dialogue as the Source, Our Lord. Remember Jesus' words to the woman healed of the years-long blood flow, "Your faith has made you well." This Lent, what ways have you approached the Lord? And how will you continue to find ways to do so?