“Hear and Speak” 

James 2:1-10, 14-17

Mark 7:24-37 

Lines.   

Telephone line.  Power line.  Goal line.  It seems as if our lives are full of lines.  Some are physical and obvious.  Many are vague, unclear lines.  There are the lines in the sand that we drew as children; daring someone to 'cross that line'. Often they would; then we would draw a new line and dare them to cross that one.  As football season gets into gear, there is always one team trying to 'hold that line' while the other is focused on crossing the goal line. 

Lines. 

Then there are those much less distinct lines that we face.  As children, our parents and teachers set boundaries, lines of behavior, that are not to be crossed.  Along with the car keys come other lines not to be crossed, limits defining acceptable behavior.  There are other lines of law, of tax regulations, of social expectations.  We have to decide how we are going to live our lives; what lines we will not cross, other boundaries that we might challenge or simply ignore.

Lines. 

Christ was always crossing lines; breaking socially accepted patterns.  He had crossed over the physical border into Gentile country.  He sought a place to relax, to regain energy, with his disciples.  Whether it was a Gentile's house or not, many lines were crossed when the Phoenician woman came into the house; and engaged Christ in conversation.  Lines, boundaries of acceptable behavior, were shattered.  The divisions of language, race, culture, religion seemed to disappear.  There was that major line defining acceptable gender interaction, ignored as if it did not exist.  No way should Christ have even been in the same room, much less speaking, to this woman.  Neither Jesus nor the woman were limited by normal boundaries. 

I wonder where we would be if people like Mother Teressa or Martin Luther King had been limited by normal boundaries? 

I try to imagine myself in that room, observing this interchange.  We have words that were spoken.  But were they really spoken clearly?  Were they really heard clearly?  Clearly the woman was asking for help; help that she knew only Jesus could offer.  Surely this is why she came as soon as she heard that Jesus was in the area.  She probably had heard of Jesus casting the legion of demons out of a fellow Gentile.  He could do this; he had done it; she needed Jesus to do it again, for her daughter.  Lines were not going to stop her.   

Did she not speak clearly?  Surely this was a reasonable request.  Did Jesus not hear clearly?  Perhaps he was distracted or didn't fully understand?  Surely there was nothing unusual about this desperate plea for help.  A mother, desperate to help her child.  Jesus, full of compassion; willing to invoke the name of God, the power of God, always as an act of compassion.  Yet his answer stops us in mid-thought; it shocks us with the dismissive denial.  Instead of helping, the woman is compared to a little dog, not worthy to receive the same food as the children of God.   

She does not argue about her assumed place in the world or refute the characterization.  But she was not satisfied with the words she heard.  She accepted the message that the children, the Israelites, were to receive the word first and then the Gentiles.  But she could not wait for this priority to slowly work its way around to her daughter.  Accepting even the characterization as a little dog, she was willing to beg for table scraps.  And she was rewarded with her daughter's healing. 

But wait.  Is this really the message that we should hear?  That God is so limited that God's plans have to unfold a step at a time?  Surely the Jews who heard this story would think, of course we come first.  We are those people chosen by God, the uncommon people.  This women should be happy that there are even table scraps.   

We can only imagine being there; what else happened in that room.  Mark gives us no clues as to how clearly spoken, how fully heard were these words.  We have no idea of what the facial expressions conveyed; no idea of the tone of voice.  But before one ponders if Jesus really wasn't going to help her at all or if she really changed the mind of Christ, I would like to offer two thoughts.  The first is that then, as is often true today, a teacher will take a position that will evoke a certain response; a position that is perhaps the opposite of the teacher's true beliefs.  But why would Jesus want to evoke such a response?  The second thought is that it is not clear who else is in the room.  Most likely some, if not all, of the disciples.  Mark is rough on the disciples; he portrays them as a group that is very slow to grasp what Jesus is doing.  They have faith and trust, they are loyal to Jesus, but slow to grasp the profound changes that are going on around them.  Slow to grasp what it means to be crossing so many boundaries. 

As I ponder these lines, I think of the courage of the woman to even approach Jesus, must less debate with him.  Left wondering about how clearly the words were spoken, how clearly they were heard, the second part of today's Gospel moves forward with crossing a different type of boundary: physical limitation. 

A few years ago I was sharing some of my most cherished childhood memories with my mother.  One of those was sitting on the kitchen stairs having long, after school discussions with her.  I was probably in third grade.  This was my time to talk to Mom.  It was far more than just talking about what had happened that day, it was a time to express my feelings, my reactions, at all that occurred.  I remember how special it was to have someone who understood what I was saying, to affirm my responses to the day's events, even support and encourage my young dreams. 

As we talked about this particular memory, I could see Mom's thoughts drifting off a little; I assumed that she was also fondly remembering the same times.  Her next words crushed my memories.  Yes, she also remembered those conversations.  She recalled listening, nodding wisely, and periodically interjecting kind words.  However, she allowed that she had no idea what I was talking about.  You see, I had a severe speech defect.  I thought that I was speaking clearly yet to everyone else, I was, as Mark states, speaking with great difficulty.  It took twelve years of intensive speech therapy before I could speak clearly enough so that others could understand. 

Hear and Speak. 

This story of the deaf man is told in Mark's direct fashion.  There is a Gentile man who can not hear nor speak clearly.  He is as passive as the woman was aggressive; his friends brought him to Jesus, spoke for him, asking for assistance.  Without explanation of what symbolism may be present, Mark tells us that Jesus first placed his fingers in the man's ears and then spit and touched his tongue.  With these actions, the man could suddenly hear and speak clearly.   

I get excited when I hear this story; it is in many ways my own story.  Yet, how often do we collectively miss the next words: they were astonished at what they saw.  This was not an every day occurrence, this healing.  It was something that was utterly amazing, so amazing that the people could not wait to tell others about it. The healed man himself clearly spoke of what had happened. We know the story, we know now who Jesus was and is.  To these early witnesses, it was just dawning upon them that this was truly the Son of God.  I hope that we never lose the sense of awe and wonder at what happens even today in the name of Christ. 

For the Jews in the crowd, and many lived in the Decapolis, the ten Greek cities near the Sea of Galilee, there was another reason to be amazed. They would have known the passage in Isaiah 35 that some day, great things would happen in the land; even:

These Jews would be amazed at both the healing and the fulfilling of prophecy. 

As I think about this healing, this prophecy fulfilled, I wonder.  Was Jesus perhaps telling the disciples that they needed to not only hear Jesus teach, but also to speak. To speak clearly about it to the world?  Whether helped because we are aggressive or passively brought to Christ, are we not also to speak of the wonders of God?

Crossing lines.  Hear and Speak. 

James warns us about both boundaries and speaking clearly.  We are not to speak differently to the rich, the important, the well dressed.  We are not to listen to what they might have to say, ponder their words any differently, than those of another, of those who may be out of a job, or dressed in rags.  We are to hear and speak to all in the same way, treasure each person as a child of God; treat each person as one who is uncommon in the eyes of God. 

Before I close, I need to return to boundaries, boundaries that are to be crossed as Jesus did.  This does not mean that there are no boundaries, no lines that limit what we can do as Christians.  There are limits to our behavior; lines that we cross over into sin.  Since we all cross over into sin, we need be very careful that we speak as lovingly to those who sin as we would like to be spoken to when we sin.  We must also be very aware that those lines that Jesus did not cross were lines established by God.  Those lines that Jesus ignored were generally lines established by mankind.  As we come to lines to cross, or when we draw our own lines, we must carefully determine whose line it is.  Even as we think of lines, boundaries, we must think of Jesus.  In love, Jesus is ready to meet us, all of us, wherever we might be this morning.  There are no lines that we can cross, nothing that we can do, that can keep Jesus from seeking us, from calling out to us, from loving us. 

Sometimes those words spoken by acts of love are the ones we remember most; that can shape the moment, even shape our lives.  James again urges us to put our faith into action.  Yet, this action can take many forms.  My mother's kind smiles and soothing words said so much to me.  Even though I do not remember the words, even though she could not understand what I was saying, they shaped me.  Her acts of kindness, what James calls works, communicated her love; love that crossed that particular boundary of physical limitation.  My prayer is that all of us may experience the love of Christ that crosses all boundaries and surrounds us, that shapes our lives.  Let us reflect that love to each other, in our words and our actions, each and every day.  Let us be touched, healed; let us hear and speak.

Amen. 
 

September 10, 2006

Pastor Al Hammond

First Presbyterian Church

Logan, Utah