Proper 18 B + The story of a woman - The Syrophoenician woman + 9.5.21

 

M. Campbell-Langdell

Ed. By A. Campbell-Langdell

All Santos, Oxnard

Proverbs 22:1-2, 8-9, 22-23; Psalm 125; James 2:1-10, [11-13], 14-17; Mark 7:24-37

Good morning, I would like to share a story with you – it is an imaginative take on what the Syrophoenician woman’s story might have been, sprinkled with a helping of poetic license in the Midrash style. Please hear it as a way of entering into today’s gospel reading.

I do not think I would have believed in the teacher if it had been any other way. You see, I am a proud woman. My family comes from Tyre many generations hence. And while I could not go myself I benefited from the tutors from all around the Greek speaking world who came to our house to teach my brothers. My family members are leaders in our community, and I speak not only Greek but some Latin and other languages of educated people. My family is a proud family.

But that day I was not proud. I was only a mother worried about her child. You see, my daughter from two weeks hence had not been herself. Sometimes in fits, sometimes in a fever, and sometimes as if she was someone else, and all of it I knew was taking something out of her. I could not stand to see it. I sent for our family physician. He could not do a thing. He told me to get ready for the worst. No, I could not accept that. So I reached out to my other relatives in nearby towns, sending boys to run as fast as possible and another physician came, and another and she only got worse, never better. That morning when I awoke I went to feed her and she would not take a thing, and she was drawn. I was so worried that next I would be burying my beloved daughter. 
I set myself near my door and took in the morning sunshine, wondering what to do, how to save my beloved daughter. I did not know a lot about faith, but I had a friend who talked about the God of the Hebrews and she was fascinated with the stories she had heard. And I began to say, God, if you are there, lead me to someone who can help my daughter. And just then, a friend walked past and told me about a certain rabbi who was at Eudocia's house and how there were stories about him, stories about healing. At that moment, I knew what to do. I had to see that rabbi.
So I put on my visiting clothes, nothing too fancy as I did not wish to impress him, just to ask for help. And I walked over to Eudocia's house. And there he was, sitting in a corner. I asked someone to be sure, but something in me knew even before I asked. And all the years of pride drained out of me. And I just fell to my knees and asked, begged him to heal my daughter. 

Now, I was a bit shocked because he responded that he needed to feed the children before the dogs. And then all of a sudden my mind went back to a moment in the market talking to my friend Elissa. We saw a beggar, an out of towner sitting by the temple gate that is near the meat stall. I said I would not be giving them any money as I needed to feed my children before I fed the dogs! It was not my nicest moment. Yes I must have seemed a lady who thought too much of herself when I said that. And looking around, I caught the eyes, ever so briefly, of a man. And here he was in front of me. Using my words to challenge me!

All my pride bubbled up and almost brimmed over. How dare he talk to me like that? What kind of family could he possibly come from that he could talk to an educated Greek speaking lady like me, a mother and a sister and a daughter of influential people in my community that way?
But then I caught the twinkle in his eye. He wanted to see, you see. How I would respond. Would I fly off the handle like any common person? Would I be humbled enough to think more carefully about what I said and did? 

Well, it took me a minute, but I responded, Sir, even the dogs can eat the crumbs from the table of their Master. It sounded very humble. But I will tell you at that moment, I felt BOLD. Bold because I was saying it was not about Jews and Greeks, and he knew it. It was about people. God and people. And his healing could cover us all. 

And wow, was he surprised then. You could see from the intelligence of those eyes that nothing much surprised him. So I must admit I felt a little bit proud that I had challenged this teacher at his own game. But all of a sudden none of that mattered, because he said, "for saying that, your daughter is healed." Alleluia! I had never felt such relief. I could hardly thank him quickly enough but did remember my manners enough to invite him to dine at our house if he had the chance before he left town. I fled home and oh- what joy! I found my daughter well again. Everything was restored. Proud though I am, I wept for joy. I didn't care if the servants saw. I never was a Stoic anyway.

I was so grateful that I was genuinely saddened when I heard the teacher- Jesus I learned his name was- had to leave town early the next morning and could not come to my house for supper. But I just received a letter from my cousin Tasha who lives in the Decapolis area. This in itself is amazing because he would have had to travel far out of his way to go there before going to his home of Jews and Greeks. It is a very Greek area for such a rabbi. Anyway, she said she saw that same teacher for herself! That they were in the town center purchasing some oil, her sister and her, when they saw the most amazing sight. A man she has seen for years walking around with his parents because he cannot speak or hear, and so needs things to be communicated with him in gestures, was brought to the rabbi. He took him aside, but she could still see him a little bit (we won't ask if she got on her tippy toes). And he sighed- and she felt something move in her too, and then he said "Ephphatha" which means "be opened" after also spitting and touching his tongue and ears. Be opened, he said. She said that the man could hear and talk- all of a sudden everyone could connect with him, no longer need he rely only on his parents. But she told me, "cousin, it was not just his ears that were opened in that moment. Now I believe in God!" And reading that, and looking at my beautiful, whole daughter, I realized it was true. Something had opened up in me, too.