It's Not Our House - Mark 7:24-37

One common trait of many clergy is that they know what it is like to live in a house that does not belong to them. Though parsonages are becoming less common, there are still plenty of them around. Clergy families move into houses that have served as home for generations of families, and some of those houses have all manner of color schemes reflecting the personal taste, or lack thereof, of those who lived there previously. My first parsonage was falling apart when I arrived as a single pastor, with holes punched in the walls and a rocking toilet in the bathroom and shreds of wallpaper hanging from the ceiling downstairs. The master bedroom was painted lavender, and the kitchen had gray plastic tile up the walls and across the ceiling. When I left, five years later, the house was charming and greatly improved, at least, in my opinion.
The lesson from Mark this week reminds Christians that we inhabit a house that was not built for us. Our spiritual home was built for the children of Abraham, and we, through family circumstances, have become heirs of the house. Though we seldom think about it, we have more in common with the Syrophoenician woman in Mark's account than we would care to admit. Jesus treated her with feigned hostility, reminding her that she was technically allowed in the house, but she had the place of annoying pets who were tolerated, at best. The term "dogs" was commonly used at the time to be descriptive of all Gentiles. The actual Greek word would translate as "little dog" or "puppy." Of course, we twenty-first century types imagine a cute and cuddly puppy whom no one could despise. The view in the ancient near east was not as loving, and Gentiles were despised. Scholars have puzzled for a long time over Jesus' hostile treatment of the woman. In the best light, he is described as having thrown a challenge to the woman to see how she responded. In the worst light, he is portrayed as a man of his time and place, complete with ethnic prejudices. Regardless of the motive, his words about the children's food being kept from the dogs must have cut like a dagger in the heart of the women whose daughter lay ill. She loved her daughter enough, and perhaps had enough faith in a God who would embrace even those outside of the "family" to dare call on God's mercy. Jesus could not resist, and the child was healed, without even having to be in Christ's presence. Heidi Husted, writing in the Christian Century on August 16th 2000, states that this is the day that the gospel "went to the dogs." Mark shows us how Jesus opened the good news of the gospel to the world. We Christians are not the first heirs of the "big house" but we have been invited to make it our home. Can we do any less than offer the same hospitality to the excluded in our world today?