Sermon: Tribalism Meets God's Love and Grace

Mark 7:24-37

Tribalism Meets God’s Love and Grace

James Sledge                                                                                       September 9, 2018

A great deal has been written and discussed of late on how tribal we’ve become in America. I read something the other day following the death of John McCain that said although Senator McCain was widely admired, he had become something of a political pariah in his home state of Arizona. All three Republican candidates in the recent Arizona senate primary either distanced themselves from McCain or outright disparaged him.

McCain’s hostility to President Trump is certainly one reason for this, but tribalism is involved as well. Tribalism draws very clear us and them boundaries and tends to view “them” as the enemy. Someone like McCain, who would work with members of the other party and even work against his own party when his principles required it, looks very suspicious to those who view the world from a tribal perspective.

We humans seem to have an innate tendency towards tribalism. We may not be born racists or homophobes or sexists or elitists or any other sort of ists, but we seek comfort and security and purpose by coalescing into groups with others who are like us in some way. It starts at a very young age. School children often form cliques that can be hostile and cruel to those who don’t fit into their group.

This is not a recent phenomenon. In Jesus’ day there were numerous divisions and groups. The Pharisees were a reform movement centered on synagogue and following scripture, opposed to what they saw as the corrupt, priestly Judaism of the Jerusalem Temple. The Essenes withdraw entirely into their own, separatist community in reaction to perceived Temple corruption and a world too accommodating to Greco-Roman culture. Then there was the Jewish – Gentile divide, the biggest tribal division of Jesus’ day.

These divisions are different than those of our day, and some may strike us as odd. But they functioned much the same as the divisions we hardly notice. We gather here for worship each week and frequently hear Paul’s words that say, There is no longer Jew or Greek, there is no longer slave or free, there is no longer male and female; for all are one in Christ Jesus. But we hardly represent the diversity and inclusiveness these words suggest. We’re not a representative sampling of America or even our immediate community. We’re whiter, wealthier, more liberal, more likely to be cultural elitists, and so on.

And that is not entirely accidental. In ways both intentional and unintentional, we design and create worship and programs that attract people who are like us and not like them. There may be no malice involved, but nonetheless, you need to be somewhat like us to feel comfortable here, to feel welcome here.

There is nothing particularly remarkable about this. Most congregations tend to be gatherings of people who are alike in some way. I suppose it’s unavoidable on some level. We can’t all like the same sort of music; we can’t all appreciate the same style of worship. And hopefully we recognize that the body of Christ is bigger than us, that our way of doing things is not the way. The body of Christ truly is one, sweeping away all the boundaries and labels of us and them that we humans construct. And thank God Jesus is not captive to the same divisions that we are and shows us a bigger and better way.

Except, perhaps, for the Jesus we meet in today’s scripture. He calls a Syrophoenician woman, a Gentile woman, a dog. It seems out of character for Jesus, which probably explains various attempts over the years to soften Jesus’ words. My favorite is the suggestion that the word means puppy or lap dog and is somehow a term of endearment. The word does refer to house dogs rather than street dogs, but that’s to be expected if you’re talking about food thrown from the table.

If a stranger with a child in distress throws herself at your feet, begs for your help, and you refuse while calling her a dog, it doesn’t really matter what sort of dog. In our scripture, there’s no real question about what Jesus did. The question is “Why?”

An obvious answer might be that Jesus has picked up the tribalism of his community. The woman is a foreigner, a Gentile. She doesn’t count the same as an Israelite, and doesn’t deserve the help of a Jewish Messiah. Some suggest that Jesus is upset because the mother comes to him seeking help rather than the father as custom required. Others speculate that economics are involved. Wealthy Gentiles in that region apparently exploited Jewish peasants. Perhaps this is a kind of reversal where a rich, Gentile woman finds herself ranked below poor peasants. But that assumes a lot that’s not in the story. And none of these explanations really sweeten Jesus up very much.

But if modern Christians with our images of sweet, meek and mild Jesus, are shocked by his words here, I suspect the first hearers of Mark’s gospel were even more shocked by the woman’s words, and by Jesus’ reaction to them. After all, Jesus never loses an argument with a religious authority. He takes on Pharisees and scribes who have studied scripture all their lives and always comes out on top. But here the rabbi gets schooled by a Gentile, and a woman at that.

And if the deaf man healed right after is also a Gentile (The healing takes place in a Gentile region but the story doesn’t identify the man one way or the other.), Jesus seems to have lost all concerns about feeding children first and dogs later.

So what are we to make of this story where both Jesus and the Syrophoenician woman act in such surprising manner. Is it possibly a story of Jesus’ own conversion  experience, his awakening to how God’s grace defies all boundaries and tribal barriers? Is the story not meant to be taken literally but rather as a warning to the church about any tendency to think we must care for those close to us first and those further away later? Or is it a story that highlights how outsiders can have a better appreciation for what God is up to than do insiders? Could it be all these, or something else entirely?

One thing is certain. In the story itself, Jesus speaks and acts in ways that fit easily into the tribalism of his day, only to change his mind when this foreigner, this woman, insists that when it comes to the saving power of God, there is more than enough to go around.

It is a shocking, startling story, and no doubt the gospel writer intends it to be. To Gentiles and other outsiders, it is likely a pleasant and hopeful surprise. For insiders, it is likely more challenging. But regardless of tribal position or loyalties, the story rocks the boat.

As human beings, it is probably impossible for us to avoid a certain level of tribalism. Some is probably harmless, like pulling for the Orioles instead of the Nationals. But most all of us haves tribal loyalties that we’ve never examined or reflected on, loyalties that impact how we act and react towards people and events. After all, in our gospel story, even Jesus seems captive to his own, unexamined tribal loyalties.

But challenged, Jesus’ loyalties immediately melt away, allowing God’s love and grace to spread in unexpected and surprising ways. I wonder how we might let our own loyalties be similarly challenged, allowing us to be used in unexpected and surprising ways to spread God’s love and grace.