We’re looking at the life of Jesus in the Gospel of Mark. In the very first half of the Gospel of Mark, up to chapter 8, the question that is always in front of us is, “Who is this? Who is Jesus?” We’re going to see at the climax of the end of chapter 8, the incredible answer to that. But even before that, Mark begins to put before us the other big question of his book: How do you relate to someone like this? How do you approach someone like this? How do you connect?

I would say most of us have in our minds two approaches. There is an ancient approach in which God is seen as a bloodthirsty tyrant that needs to be appeased and constantly pleased. Then, there is the modern understanding of God, which is a spiritual force that we can access anytime we want, just like that. What we see here is neither of those. We have a very different answer to that question.

Let’s take a look at these two accounts. These two accounts are going to tell us how we should approach Jesus and why we can do it that way. How we should approach Jesus and why we can do it that way.

The Syrophoenician Woman: How We Should Approach Jesus

The first account tells us how we should approach Jesus. It’s the story of the Syrophoenician woman. In verse 24, Jesus left the place and went to the vicinity of Tyre. He entered a house and did not want anyone to know it. Now, what’s going on?

Jesus, and this is very significant—we’ll get back to it in just a second—spent all of his time ministering in Jewish provinces, amongst the Israelites in Judea. That ministry was going so incredibly well that it was crushing. The crowds were overwhelming. He was exhausted. Actually, we’ve seen a number of times, even with us all through this series, Jesus constantly trying to find some peace and quiet, trying to get some respite.

What he does here is something that is virtually unique in the book of Mark and anywhere else. Jesus leaves the Jewish provinces, which he never did. He goes into a Gentile territory, to Tyre, in order to get some peace and quiet. But it doesn’t work because a woman hears about it in verse 26. We’re told about this woman who, with astonishing boldness, goes to Jesus and falls at his feet.

Here’s what is rather bold about it: even though she’s a Syrophoenician, she would have been a near neighbor to Judea, and she would have known all the Jewish customs. She knew, therefore, that she had none of the religious, moral, social, or cultural credentials necessary to approach a Jewish rabbi. And yet, though she was a Phoenician, a Gentile, not a Jew, though she was a pagan, not a God-worshiper, though she was a woman, not a man, though her daughter had literally, it says, an unclean spirit—in other words, though she knew that she was in every way unclean and therefore disqualified, according to the religious and respectability standards of the day, from approaching a moral, devout person, let alone a rabbi—and even though she knew she was on the wrong side of the tracks of every racial, sexual, moral, cultural, and social barrier, she didn’t care.

She just goes into the house without an invitation, and we’re told that she fell down, and the word “begged” is a present progressive, so she just kept on begging. Nothing would stop her. No one could stop her. In fact, in Matthew 15, the other account, the disciples begged Jesus to stop her. They can’t stop her. Nothing. She won’t let anyone tell her no. She won’t take no for an answer. And she’s just talking and pleading and pleading with Jesus without interruption.

Now, why is she so bold? I don’t think at least this initial burst of boldness is anything all that surprising. It’s not that inexplicable. You know why? You know why. Look, there are cowards, there are heroes, and there’s everybody in between. And then there are parents. Because you know, and they’re not on the spectrum, because you see, if your child is going over a cliff, you do what it takes. It doesn’t matter whether you’re timid or brazen. You don’t even think about it. It’s irrelevant. Your character, your personality, is irrelevant. You do what it takes.

And therefore, it’s not all that surprising that this desperate mother was this bold and willing to break all the barriers. So her first response to Jesus is not surprising, but her second response is history-changing. It had a huge effect even on the Protestant Reformation. Her second response is amazing.

Jesus’ Response: A Parable and a Challenge

Because Jesus says to her, as she’s down on the floor begging, in verse 27, “First, let the children eat all they want,” he told her, “for it is not right to take the children’s bread and toss it to their dogs.”

Now, what does that mean? Of course, at first, and it’s not just on the surface, but even if you go down a little bit beneath the surface, this is an insult. We live in a very canine-loving society, but they did not. I was in Central Park this morning and I realized we live in a very canine-loving society. But in those days, most dogs were wild dogs, and they were scavengers. They were wild, dirty, and uncouth in every way. To call someone a dog was a terrible insult.

Go into the concordance and look at the Old Testament, New Testament, any place you see the word “dog.” You know, Goliath says when he sees David coming to him, “Am I a dog that you would send me this?” So “dog” is not good. Worse than that, the Gentiles were often called dogs by the Jews because they were so unclean. So is this just an insult? No. It’s a parable.

The key to understanding this as a parable, as short as it is, is the word “parable” itself, which means metaphor or likeness. This is like that. The key to understanding it is the fact that Jesus uses a very unusual word for dogs here. He doesn’t use the word that’s usually used, but rather a diminutive of dog, a word that really means “puppies.” And if you look at it, especially that word “first,” you suddenly realize that he’s actually giving us a metaphor, a parable.

And here’s what he’s saying. He says to her, after all, she’s a mother, “You know how families eat. First, the children eat at the table, what they choose. And then the puppies, then their dogs, then their pets. Then, of course, their pets eat from the table too. But it is not right to not follow that order. The puppies must not eat from the table before the children.”

The Woman’s Response: A Bold Faith

What’s that? Now, Matthew gives us a slightly longer version of this, as he usually does, and explains it. It’s not that hard to see. In fact, in a way, it’s hinted at from verse 24. Jesus Christ never left Israel in his whole life. He did not go to Greece. He did not go to Rome. He did not go all over the world. He did not go to the nations. He concentrated his entire ministry on Israel for all sorts of reasons.

He says, “I am coming to Israel. I am showing Israel that I’m the fulfillment of the revelation of the Scripture. I’m the fulfillment of all their promises. I’m the fulfillment of all the prophets, priests, and kings. I’m the fulfillment of the temple.” And then when he dies and he’s resurrected, he immediately says to his disciples, “Now go to all the nations.” And what he’s actually saying is, “Hey, there’s an order here. I’m not here for you. I’m not here for the Gentiles. I’m not here for you. I’m here for a respite. There’s an order to things. I’m going to Israel first. Gentiles later.”

So is it a brush-off? Well, here’s what’s so intriguing about this. He says to her, “The puppies must not eat before the children.” But she comes back at him. And this is one of the most remarkable points in the Gospel. I’ll show you why in a minute. It’s more astounding than you might know. But she comes back and says, “Yes, Lord, but the puppies eat too. The puppies eat from that table too. And I’m here for mine.”

She will not take no for an answer. And what you need to recognize is how astounding this is for this reason. Jesus has told her a parable. And in that parable, he has given her a combination of both challenge and offer. And she gets it. She grabs hold of it with both hands and she responds to both.

First, she responds to the challenge. You see what she does? She says, “Okay, I get you. I’m not supposed to be at the table. I am not of the tribe of Israel. I do not have the Bible. I do not worship the God of the Bible. I don’t have the Ten Commandments. Okay, I’m unworthy. I don’t have a place at the table.” I accept it. Isn’t that amazing? I accept it. She doesn’t get her back up. She doesn’t get all huffy. She doesn’t stand on her rights. “How dare you call me this?” She says, “Okay, I accept it. I don’t have a place at the table. I don’t deserve it. That’s fine.”

But there’s more than enough on that table for everyone in the world. And I want mine now. She is wrestling with him in the most respectful way. She is contending with him. You remember Abraham in Genesis 18, when he says to God, “Oh, I’m just dust and ashes, but Lord, will you spare the city with 40, 30, 20?” Remember that? Remember Jacob wrestling? Do you know what she’s doing here? She’s… I love it. You should love it.

Here’s what she’s saying: She will not take no for an answer. She says, “Oh, okay. So the Gentiles, the gospel goes to the Gentiles later. That’s later. Fine. Okay, make me a teaser trailer of the coming movie. I want mine now.”

The Gospel: Boldness and Humility

Now, the reason why this is so unique and unusual is you have to realize—why I want to just stop on it for a minute here or two—is because in Western countries, in Western cultures, and to some degree or another, we’re products of that, we don’t have anything like this kind of assertiveness. We only have assertion of our rights. We do not know how to be assertive. We do not know how to contend unless we’re standing for our rights, standing on our dignity, and standing on our own goodness, and saying, “This is what I am owed.”

This is not that at all. This isn’t contention. This is not assertiveness for your rights. This is right-less assertiveness. And we don’t know anything about this. She is coming to God like a laser beam, but she is not—she completely accepts her unworthiness. But why is she coming? We don’t even know because we don’t have any other motivation.

But here’s what she’s saying. She’s saying, “I’m not coming to you on the basis of my goodness. I’m coming on the basis of yours. I accept your insult of me, but I will not insult you by not treating you as your mercy deserves. Lord, I am not saying to you, ‘Give me what I deserve on the basis of my goodness.’ I’m saying, ‘Give me what I don’t deserve on the basis of your goodness, and I want it now. Give me what I don’t deserve.’”

There’s a feistiness and assertiveness. And do you realize how remarkable this is that she penetrates down and sees both the combination of offer and challenge and accepts both inside? I mean, the challenge and the offer inside?

Jesus turns to her when it’s all done and says, “I think a better translation would be, ‘Such an answer.’” Some of the translations have Jesus saying, “Wonderful answer, incredible answer. For that answer, all the blessing you want will come.”

And just to show you how remarkable this is, James Edwards, in his commentary on Mark, puts it wonderfully, and I want to read it to you. He says:

“This pagan woman understands Jesus’ mission, disclosed to her in the parable of the children and their dogs at the table. She fully accepts that Jesus must fulfill God’s revelation to Israel, but that the superabundance that fulfillment will produce will spill over and include her and others like her. What an irony this is. Jesus has been seeking desperately to teach his chosen Jewish male disciples, yet they have every time been dull and non-comprehending. The fact is that this woman, this pagan woman, is the first person in the Gospel of Mark to hear and understand a parable of Jesus. She enters the parable and allows herself to be claimed by it. She answers Jesus from within the parable, that is, she accepts the terms by which Jesus addresses her. And yet within the parable, she has met a living Lord with whom she has struggled and contended. She is, in fact, a female Jacob who has said, ‘I will not let you go till you bless me.’”

And Martin Luther was really amazed by this story and was very moved by it because he saw the Gospel. He saw, here’s a woman who understands the Gospel because, on the one hand—well, listen, everyone—on the one hand, the Gospel is, “You’re more wicked than you ever dared believe, but you’re more loved and accepted than you ever dared hope.” At the same time.

On the one hand, she is not too proud to accept what the Gospel says about her unworthiness. She says, “Okay, I’m unworthy.” What if she had gotten her back up and said, “How dare you use a racial epithet about me? I don’t have to stand for this.” You never would have heard of her. You cannot stand before God on your dignity, on your rights, on your moral record, even on the basis of your suffering. You cannot ask God—God owes you nothing. Are you out of touch with reality?

But on the other hand, she does not insult God by being too discouraged to take up the offer. See, there are two ways to fail to let Jesus be your Savior. One is by being too proud—a superiority complex—but one is through an inferiority complex. One is through being so self-absorbed and so self-centered, you say, “I’m just so awful, I’m so awful, God couldn’t love me.”

John Newton, a pastor, wrote a pastoral counseling letter to a man who was very depressed. And listen to what he says. He says:

“You say you feel overwhelmed with guilt and a sense of unworthiness. Well, indeed, you cannot be too aware of the evils inside of yourself, but you may be, indeed you are, improperly controlled and affected by them. You say it is hard to understand how a holy God could accept such an awful person as yourself. You then express not only a low opinion of yourself, which is right, but also too low an opinion of the person, work, and promises of this Redeemer, which is wrong. See? You complain about sin, but when I look at your complaints, they are so full of self-righteousness, unbelief, pride, and impatience that they are little better than the worst evils you complain of.”

It is just as much a rejection of the love of God to refuse to seek, to assert, to come after His mercy, to accept it, to rest in it, to be content with it, as to say, “I’m too good for it.”

And Thomas Cranmer wrote one of the great English prayers, one of the great prayers of the English language. It was the prayer of approach to the Lord’s Supper in the first Book of Common Prayer, and millions of people have prayed this, and it’s all based on this story. It goes like this:

“We do not presume to come to this Thy table, O merciful Lord, trusting in our own righteousness, but in Thy manifold and great mercies. We are not worthy so much as to gather up the crumbs under Thy table, but Thou art the same Lord whose property is always to have mercy.”

And every time anyone has ever prayed that prayer, Thomas Cranmer has been inviting people to step into this woman’s shoes because she got the Gospel. She got it, and she went home, and she found her life had been put back together again.

The Healing of the Deaf Mute: Why We Can Approach Jesus

Now, how is it possible for us to be that bold? How is it possible? I think most of us, with our religious background, can understand the unworthiness part—that you’re supposed to say, “Okay, if you say I’m a dog, I’m a dog.” We understand that part. But the other part, the feistiness, the humble contentiousness, the coming after, saying, “I will not let you go till you bless me”—we don’t get that. We don’t see where the warrant is for that. We don’t see why that’s an insult if we don’t do that.

But I think we understand why we can approach God like this Syrophoenician woman by looking at the second account. And that’s the healing of the deaf mute.

Then Jesus left the vicinity of Tyre and went through Sidon, down to the Sea of Galilee and into the region of the Decapolis. And there, some people brought to him a man who was deaf and who could hardly talk. Now, what Jesus does with this man is very interesting. There’s a whole series of things that he does.

Notice, he takes him away from the crowd. He points to his ears. He then puts his own spittle on the man’s tongue. He looks to heaven. He sighs and says, “Be opened.” What’s all that about?

You might say, “Well, it’s a miracle worker, so he’s doing all the rituals of miracle workers.” No. Don’t you realize we just saw a miracle? The miracle in which Jesus healed that little girl. And there was no ritual. There was no mumbo jumbo. And it was even at a distance. There was no poking and pointing and touching and all that stuff. Jesus obviously does not need to do any of that stuff in order to express his power. And what that means is Jesus is doing all this not because he needs it, but because the man needs it.

And here’s what we learn: Jesus Christ deeply identifies with this man. Identifies. How so?

Well, first, at one level, cognitively, he’s identifying with him. What do you think all this is? Touching his ears, touching his mouth, looking to heaven? It’s sign language. Here’s what Jesus is saying: “Let’s go over here. Don’t be afraid. I’m going to do something about that. I’m going to do something about that. Now let’s look to God.” He’s using sign language. He comes into the man’s cognitive world and uses terms that he can understand.

But beyond that, secondly, he’s identifying emotionally with him. Notice how he takes the man away from the crowd. Why? Why would you do that? Wouldn’t you want everybody to see? He takes him away from the crowd. At least there’s probably a lot of reasons, but one of the reasons he takes him away from the crowd is here’s a man—you can imagine him growing up—here’s a man who’s always been a spectacle. Can you imagine? He could hardly talk. Of course, he’s deaf, and therefore he can’t produce proper speech. And just imagine him growing up as a kid. Just imagine the way people have made fun of him. For years, he’s been a spectacle. For years. And Jesus identifies enough emotionally with the outcasts to know, “I don’t want to make this man a spectacle now.” This is very sensitive. This is emotionally very… He’s identifying with him emotionally.

But there’s a deeper identification yet. Because at one point, we’re told he looks to heaven and he sighs. Oh, more than that. It’s a deep sigh. More than that, it’s actually another—a better translation might be, “He moaned.” And a moan is an expression of pain. Now, why would Jesus be in pain? You say, “Well, he’s emotionally identified with the man and his alienation and his isolation.” Yeah, yeah, maybe. Yes, I’m sure. You’re right. Of course, you’re right. But he’s about to heal him. And you know, wouldn’t you think that instead of sighing, wouldn’t you think Jesus knows that he’s about to make the guy the happiest man on the face of the earth, that he wouldn’t be, you know, wouldn’t it take a little emotional resonance to anticipate that? I mean, why isn’t Jesus looking at the man saying, “Wait till you see what I’m going to do for you?” Well, why is he sighing? I mean, the guy’s going to get better.

See, there’s a deeper identification going on. There is a cost for Jesus healing this man. Now, what is it?

Mark deliberately tells us by using a word for “deaf mute.” It’s the word in the place where it says, “They brought to him a man who was deaf and could hardly talk.” There’s a single Greek word, mogilalon, that’s used there and no other place in the Bible except Isaiah 35. It’s a very rare word. And there’s no reason that Mark would have used it except he wants us to cross-reference what’s happening here with Isaiah 35.

And in Isaiah 35, it’s a prophecy of the Messiah. And in Isaiah 35, we’re told this:

“Be strong and do not fear, for your God himself will come with divine retribution to save you. Then will the eyes of the blind be opened and the ears of the deaf be unstopped. Then will the lame leap for joy and the mute tongue shout for joy.”

Now, here’s what Mark’s saying. He says, “I want you to realize this. Do you see the blind seeing? Do you see the deaf hearing? The mute tongue shouting for joy? God has come.” Just like it said in Isaiah 35, God has come to save you. What a claim—Jesus Christ has come to save us.

But, wait, wait. There’s something in there that Mark wants us to think about. It says he will come to save you with retribution, divine retribution. And you say, “Wait a minute, did Jesus come with divine retribution? He’s not whacking people. He’s not taking out his sword. He’s not taking power. He’s giving it away. He’s not taking the rule; he’s serving.” Where does Jesus come with divine retribution?

And the answer is, he didn’t come to bring divine retribution. He came to bear divine retribution. And on the cross, Jesus totally identified with us. Because he can only heal the sick, and he can only raise the dead, and he can only do these things if he pays the penalty for what you and I know we deserve. And also, all the things that you and I, because of our self-justifying little hearts, don’t want to admit we deserve—but we do.

And because Jesus identified like that, now I know why you can approach him. Now you know why you can approach him. Because on the cross, do you know what you’re seeing? The ultimate child of God was thrown away, cast out from the table without a crumb, so that those of us who were not children of God could be adopted and brought in.

Or put it another way: The child had to become a dog, so that we dogs couldn’t just become little puppy pets, but we would become sons and daughters at the table. For this man’s tongue to be loosed, Jesus Christ had to become a lamb who was dumb before his shearers.

And if you see that, if you see that the Son became a dog so that we dogs could become sons, that is what will give you that assertiveness. It’s right-less assertiveness. It’s assertiveness not based on your goodness, but on his goodness. It’s not coming after the things you deserve because of your goodness; it’s coming after the things you don’t deserve because of his goodness. And you’re not going to insult him by not coming after them. You’re not going to insult him by not seeking them. You’re not going to insult him by not resting in them.

Conclusion

Three things. Number one: Let’s apply this to our lives.

1. Jesus Is Not a Tame Lion

I am sorry for lapsing back into Narnian dialect, but you don’t have to have read any of the Narnian chronicles to understand that little term. He’s not a tame lion. Look, he comes to the woman, the Syrophoenician woman, and he calls her a dog—enigmatic, cryptic, harsh. He comes to the deaf mute, and he’s immediately melting-your-mouth sweet. What is it with him? He’s so unpredictable. Yeah, because he’s the wonderful counselor. He’s the perfect counselor.

He goes in John 11 to the tomb of Lazarus, who’s died. He meets Martha and Mary, the sisters. And Martha says, “If you had been here, Lord, my brother would not have died.” And Jesus rebukes her. And then Mary comes up and says, “If you had been here, Lord, my brother would not have died.” And Jesus just weeps with her. Same statement. By no means the same response. Why? Because Jesus always gives you what you need, and only he knows. Better than you.

Here’s Joseph, and he’s in the pit in Dothan. And he’s going to be sold into slavery by his wicked brothers. And he’s praying to God. God doesn’t seem to answer. He’s sold into slavery. And years later, here’s Elisha at Dothan. And they’re surrounded by the enemy. And he prays, “O Lord, deliver us,” and chariots of fire come and destroy the enemy. But don’t you know God was just as present in his silence with Joseph as he was in his noisy chariots with Elisha, because he was giving them what they needed. Only he knows.

Don’t you dare think you know better than what he does that needs to be happening in your life. See? Ooh, is he safe? Of course he’s not safe. Who said anything about being safe? But he’s good. He’s the king, I tell you.

2. Jesus Is a Wonderful Example for Reaching Across Barriers

Jesus is a wonderful example for reaching out across cultural and racial barriers. See? Cultural and racial barriers are no problem for him at all. Gender barriers are no problem for him. And just as he’s reached across them, so we should, if we’re trying to walk in his footsteps, we should, in a church like this, especially in a city like this, go out of our way—not just simply go with the flow and just constantly hang out with people of our own race, our own class, our own age, and our own gender—but actually reach across and make strong friendships. Reach across those barriers. Try to bring those barriers down.

But I want you to see that as an example alone, Jesus will not help you do that. You mustn’t look at Jesus simply as an example of liberal tolerance who said, “Great, you’re a Syrophoenician woman, I’m going to bless you anyway.” Isn’t that wonderful? Liberal tolerance. Liberal tolerance, but don’t listen.

Until you see that Jesus Christ had to become a dog so you could become a son or daughter, until your self-righteousness is ruined and melted away and affirmed away and loved away by that, you will never really overcome the true self-righteousness that creates exclusiveness. There’s a lot of people around who say, “Oh, I’m over my racial intolerance.” You see, I have a very open mind, but they look down their noses at people they consider bigoted. See, if anything but Jesus is the real reason for your self-worth, and there’s anything more important to your identity than Jesus Christ—whether it’s your moral goodness or your liberal open-mindedness, or your race and your culture—you’re going to have to look down, you know, at the people who aren’t as open-minded as you, who do not have the same race as you, who are not as moral as you.

But only if you see that Jesus Christ became a dog, became mute, so that your tongue could open, so that you could be brought to the table. You can be affirmed and humbled out of the self-righteousness, which is the basis for all of this kind of exclusiveness.

3. Let’s Not Be a Church That Offends Easily

One last thing: Let’s not be a church. I mean, it’s very difficult, and our church isn’t any worse than any other place, but notice how Jesus works so hard not to be offensive, not to be misunderstood, with this deaf mute. He works so hard, so hard, not to offend and make sure that he’s understood. But on the other hand, the other account shows, here’s a woman who’s called a dog and she doesn’t get offended.

We should go out of our way to try to be gentle and not offend anybody. And then, if we are not treated with gentleness, we shouldn’t be offended. And then we’d be living in a community we all want to be in.

Don’t be too proud to accept what the Gospel says about your unworthiness. Don’t be too despondent to accept what the Gospel says about how loved you are.

Hear him, ye deaf; his praise, ye dumb,
Your loosened tongues employ;
Ye blind, behold your Savior come,
And leap, ye lame, for joy.

Let’s pray.

Prayer

Father, the Lord’s Supper is your table, and now we see what you had to do in order to make us sons and daughters that can sit at your table. Change us with the knowledge of what you did so that we can have that kind of holy boldness, that humble boldness in our relationship with each other and our relationship with you that is so unique to those who understand the Gospel of our Lord Jesus Christ. In his name we pray. Amen.