Faith in the Maelstrom: The Syrophoenician Woman

Life has become a maelstrom in which speed and accomplishment, consumption and productivity, have become the most valued of human commodities. In this rush over work, we take everything for granted. What else can we do? We consume things, people and information. We do not have time to savor this life, nor to care deeply in general, for our loved ones, ourselves, or our world. Rather, with increasingly dizzying haste, we use them up, throw them away and move on.
—Ron Washer

An Infection That Wounds

If that’s the kind of emotional culture in which we find ourselves, and that infection, as it were, begins to get inside the human heart, it produces two things.

First, it produces a kind of anger, often unfocused, but still present, because I’m caught in a way of life for which I am emotionally and physically ill-suited. And yet, the stress and demand of it all, like riding the rapids, pushes me along. In some ways, because of the increasing demands, I feel I have no choice but to give in to all that pressure.

The other thing this infection produces, particularly if I continue to live with that generalized anger, is a sense of entitlement. I look at what I don’t have and say, “But I have the right to have it.”

This is basically the politicization of my unmet needs. After all, the Constitution guarantees us “life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness.” But in the current emotional culture, I don’t feel alive. Instead, I feel bound by what I’m not getting, so I’m extremely unhappy. I want my rights as a U.S. citizen!

A Woman Who Stands

We don’t see either of these in the Syrophoenician woman (Matt. 15:21-28) who comes to Jesus with her request.  And yet she is living in a maelstrom of her own: a racially prejudiced situation. As a Gentile, Canaanite woman, she was considered “less than” the Israelites. And in his answer, Jesus quotes a proverb of the day: “It’s not right to take the children’s bread and give it to the dogs.” This came from the pervasive attitude of the Jews toward goyim (Gentiles), which literally means “dogs.”

Yet look how she responds. Not in anger: “I’m no less than anybody else!” Not in entitlement: “I have just as much right to approach you as anyone else.”

She doesn’t say that at all. What comes through is a blend of standing firm—she doesn’t give an inch—and extraordinary humility. It’s an incredible combination.

Because the temptation for us, you see, is to fall on one side or the other. To stand in anger—“It’s my right, and why aren’t you listening, O God?” Or to fall off the other side and say, “I don’t deserve anything, so I’m surely not going to ask.”

The Syrophoenician falls on neither side. Instead, she stands and speaks out of a dazzling faith and humility. And that’s why Mark gives her a particular place in his narrative. He’s just finished wrestling with the Pharisees about clean and unclean. And in some ways, the Syrophoenician’s story is an illustration of the principle Jesus laid out there: It’s not what happens outwardly that makes one unclean; it’s what’s in the heart. “Look at this woman,” Mark is saying. “She’s in a better place when it comes to faith than either the disciples or the Pharisees.””

A God Who Hears

I want to hold this story up in that way rather than indicating, as some people do, that Jesus is being irritating, that he doesn’t like this Gentile breaking in on what he’s trying to do. Wouldn’t that be entirely inconsistent with his character?

This story teaches us first, that any of us can be liable to that same kind of generalized anger because we don’t like our maelstrom, the particular pressures we face. But instead of becoming angry, we should cry out to God to reorder our life in a way that makes room for rest and peace.

Second, we should realize that God is the One before whom we stand. And that should bring us comfort in knowing that not only can we stand before him, but he does not reject us. He pays attention to all we are, both good and bad, and welcomes us into his presence. Even before the Syrophoenician, he does not say no, but offers an invitation instead.

There are lots of reasons God could say no to any of us, and yet he never does. Never. And therefore, we can come to him and stand in faith. Not in demanding our rights, but in knowing we are welcome to stand before him, and that he does, in fact, hear us.

Every single time we speak.

How have you or someone you know stood in faith? Share this blog and your response on Twitter. Please include my username, @revgregbrewer.

 

(This post is an adaption of Bishop Brewer’s sermon on February 9, 2017, in the Bishop’s Oratory, Orlando.)

Unless otherwise noted, scripture quotations are from the New Revised Standard Version Bible, copyright © 1989 the Division of Christian Education of the National Council of the Churches of Christ in the United States of America. Used by permission. All rights reserved.