Be Opened

Transcribed from the sermon preached September 6, 2009

The Reverend Max Lynn, Pastor

Scripture Readings: Mark 7:21-34. James 2:1-17

The narrative or scene:  The surf is good, the crowd is tight, and a lone female paddles past the pack of men to the point.  A man immediately yells out: “No women allowed! As the woman paddles past him, she stairs him in the eyes and replies, “Get out of my way old man.”  It was the woman’s audacious response that made everyone turn to see what was going on. Such response was unexpected, odd; there had to be more going on than what met the ears.

          Now let me set the context: Steamer Lane in Santa Cruz is the premier surfing spot in all of Northern California.  The view from the cliffs provides an excellent site for photographers and critics.  The pecking order is long and tight. The testosterone level is off the charts.  Fights are common. Old men, women, kids and beginners get run over, and then the person who runs them over is the one who gets angry.  As a stranger, if you paddle out to the top of the point on a good day, the likelihood of getting abuse is very high.  If you are a stranger, you don’t make eye contact, and you don’t speak.

          The guy who yelled was an old time local and the woman was his friend.  The loud obnoxious comment by the man actually invited the woman in and let everyone else in the water know that this woman was to get her share of waves, and nobody else was allowed to give her trouble. But for the whole scene to work, the woman had to respond. It was more empowering than if the guy had said, “Can’t we all just get along and treat each other as equals.”

          Scholars call this kind of exchange peirastic irony, where the speaker challenges the listener to come up with a response that confirms the message the speaker wants others to know.  In addition, in miracle stories, which are commonly passed as oral tradition among the poor, such exchanges show how the subject is tenacious in overcoming their own difficult situation.

          We are told at the beginning of our passage for this morning, that Jesus heads out to the area of Tyre and Sidon, north on the coast from Galilee in Phonecia.  It seems a bit odd that Jesus is this far north.  Some in Mark’s audience may have questioned why he would even go up there.  He has been all about Galilee healing all sorts of folk, and he has run into jealousy and opposition from religious leaders in his own country.  They are angry with him because he fraternizes with sinners, tax collectors and the unclean.  He has broken the law to heal on the Sabbath, saying, the law was made to do good not harm.  He has become so well known that he has little peace. He heads north. But a stranger in a village is hard to hide, a prophet even harder.  A woman comes and bows at his feet, and insists that Jesus cast out the demon that is in her daughter.  The daughter and her healing are nowhere to be seen.  They seem to be peripheral to the story as the interaction between Jesus and the mother are central.

          Tamis Hoover Renteria, in a socio-cultural analysis of Elijah/ Elisha miracle stories, writes that “While the stories may reflect actual interactions between particular individuals and a prophet, they cannot be fully understood unless these individuals are seen also as generic characters, representatives of sub-groups of people within (a particular oppressive context) who have suffered similar hardships and found solutions through a relationship to the prophet.” (Renteria, Tamis Hoover.  The Elijah/ Elisha Miracle Stories: A Socio-Cultural Analysis of Prophets and People in the Ninth-Century BCE Israel.)

          In oral tradition, these stories depict the resourcefulness, the wit and tenacity of the person interacting with the prophet that invites others in the same context to have the same faith and tenacity.  As with this story of the Syrophonecian woman, the point is as much about the shift in the main character’s sense of the possible as with the healing of her daughter.

          Key to understanding is the anti-narrative, the narrative of the status quo behind the miracle story.  The God of Israel is just that, the God of Israel. Those of the religious elite who have been giving Jesus trouble for fraternizing with sinners would certainly not approve of him speaking with a woman, especially this Syrophonecian woman.  It is the Israelites who are God’s children. Prophets of Yahweh live and move, heal and bless those children of Israel, those who follow the law, those who are pure. This woman is outside the margins of the blessed, a dog in comparison to the children. Besides, this prophet has his hands full with his own people; can’t he even get a day off?  She is on her own with her troubles.  It is no wonder that her daughter is possessed and the chances she will find help are slim. 

          But against the odds, she goes with faith and busts in on Jesus, begging him to cast out the demon in her daughter.  He said to her, “It is not fair to heal a foreigner who has not paid for health insurance.”  No actually he said, “Let the children be fed first, for it is not fair to take the children’s food and throw it to the dogs.”  “Sir, even the dogs under the table eat the children’s crumbs.”  “For saying that,” Jesus says, “ you may go – the demon has left your daughter.”  So she went home, found the child lying on the bed, and the demon gone.

          On his way back he went by way of Sidon, by the Sea of Galilee, in the region of the Decapolis.  The Decapolis was a region of ten Roman cities East of the Jordan, so Jesus is still in gentile country.  The anti- narrative is that this deaf mute, like the rest of the poor gentiles in this region, are oppressed and closed up by Rome, and could neither hear nor speak the word of God. These poor folks are not consulted on decisions, and if they speak are their voices are not heard.  Rome has the voice and the say.  Like Moses who had a speech impediment and was closed off in Egypt from hearing of God’s word, and was left out east of the Jordan, unable to enter the Promised Land, this man will always be deaf and dumb, outside the Promised Land.

          Jesus said, “Be opened,” and immediately his ears were opened, his tongue was released, and he spoke plainly.  Then Jesus ordered them to tell no one; but the more he ordered them, the more zealously they proclaimed it.  They were astounded beyond measure, saying, “He has done everything well; he even makes the deaf to hear and the mute to speak.  The irony here is that Jesus and Mark are not just saying “be open” to the deaf mute, but to those who fail to hear and speak the Gospel of inclusive love, and if we still don’t get it, the healed can’t help but let us know.  When we have experienced the Good News of God’s grace, we want others to know about it.

          Contrary to da Vinci’s painting, all those who have faith, regardless of nationality or racial ethnic background, gender, class or physical make-up, have a place at the table with Jesus.  They have a testimony to give.  There is enough food to go around. They have nothing to pay, they are not even citizens, they are not even of his same religion, but Jesus gives them a voice, and he provides health care. 

          According to 2005 census data there are 46.6 million Americans without health insurance, 16% of the total population.  A more recent 2007 report puts it at 18%. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8. Ok, you and you are out! No doubt today it is getting rapidly worse.  In 2005, 11.2 million children were uninsured.  Among the poor who make below $25,000, 24.4% are uninsured.  19.6% of African Americans and 32% of Hispanics are uninsured.

          Now I am not arguing specifics of the health care reform bill.  Surely in such a significant bill there should be some debate.  I don’t doubt that many in this nation are able to afford health care and are not dissatisfied with the care they have.  And they may be fearful about changes to be made.  But has this fear made us deaf to the cries of the poor?  Have we lost our Christian voice, the voice of faith that gives us courage to argue even with God for the healing of our sick friends and daughters? 

          Are we deaf to scripture, to the law to love our neighbor as ourselves?  Deaf to the dedication and love and grace of Jesus, the one we call our savior, who spent his life going from place to place, across barriers of race, class, gender and religion, serving and empowering the poor, healing the sick and transforming the sinner?

          If we show partiality, says James, we commit sin and are convicted by the law as transgressors.  Judgment will be without mercy to anyone who has shown no mercy; mercy triumphs over judgment.  What good is it, my brothers and sisters, if we say we have faith but do not have works?  Can faith save us?  If a brother or sister is naked and lacks daily food and health care, and we say to them, “Go in peace, be healthy and eat your fill,” and yet we do not supply bodily needs, what is the good of that?  Faith without works is dead.

          Are we deaf, have we lost our voice?  Jesus cries, be opened!