Village Shepherd

Some years ago I was privileged to sit on what was then called The Norfolk Family Practitioner Committee. Amongst other things, one of the duties of this committee was to hear complaints against doctors and dentists throughout Norfolk. Some of the complaints we heard were about the treatment given, especially if the patient had unfortunately died after treatment. But many of the complaints had nothing to do with treatment but were about manner and attitude, over which we had no jurisdiction.

No matter how professional the doctor or dentist, or how effective the treatment, if he or she had a brusque manner and a rude or surly attitude, the patients were unhappy. Fortunately times have changed now, and doctors and dentists are much more aware of their patients' sensitivities than perhaps they once were.

We humans have to rub along together somehow, and a little courtesy and kindness seem to go a long way towards oiling the wheels of life. As many of us were constantly told in our youth, "It costs nothing to be polite."

For those of us brought up within the Church, perhaps politeness became in some ways synonymous with Christianity. So much so that there are churches where nothing is ever allowed to ruffle the surface. Arguments and disagreements simply don't occur, because everybody is so busy being pleasant and polite to each other.

So it comes as something of a shock to hear the rudeness of Jesus when approached by the Canaanite woman pleading for his help for her daughter. She approaches him quite humbly, calling him "Lord" and acknowledging his Jewish descent. Jesus ignores her, and for such a detail to be mentioned in the text, the ignoring must have been quite pointed. Perhaps he turned his back on her, at any rate metaphorically.

But the woman is fighting for her daughter, and despite the snub continues to cry out after Jesus calling for his help. The disciples, presumably taking their cue from Jesus, urge him to send her away for she's becoming a pest. But something about her persistence has touched Jesus and he pauses, acknowledging her existence for the first time.

Even then he fails to directly address her, but makes a remark justifying his treatment of her. He tells nobody in particular that he believes his mission to be only to Jews. That small chink in his defensive armour is enough for the woman. She kneels at his feet in a supplicant attitude and simply says, "Lord, help me!"

Jesus continues in his reluctance. He uses a very derogatory put-down, perhaps expecting the woman to take offence. "It isn't right to take the children's bread and throw it to the dogs," he says, deliberately using a Jewish term of contempt for Gentiles.

But the woman isn't fazed even by this astounding rudeness. It's almost as though she'll take any abuse that's thrown at her in order to help her daughter. She knows that however brusque his manner might be, however offended she might feel by his words, Jesus is the only one who can help her daughter. She's quick-witted enough to parry his rudeness and turn it back on him with gentle humour. And she wins. Jesus is captivated by her perseverance, her humility, and her faith. Her daughter is instantly healed.

If an issue is sufficiently important, it's ridiculous to allow pride to get in the way of progress. The woman loved her daughter, and that love was the only important issue for her. The gospel story gives the impression that she would have gone on fighting for her daughter, even if Jesus had continued to reject her.

Many people today fight for their children even when they are too timid to fight for any other cause. Many parents who have lost children start up support groups for parents with similar problems, or raise thousands of pounds to help tackle the cause of fatal illnesses.

In the OT, when Naaman the Syrian leper was persuaded to approach Elisha the Israelite prophet to seek a cure for his leprosy, he was outraged by Elisha's off-hand treatment of him and Elisha's suggestions for a cure. He was all for packing his bags and going home. But his servants asked him which was more important, keeping his pride or curing his leprosy? Naaman saw sense, bathed in the River Jordan as Elisha had instructed, and was cured of his terrible disease (2 Kings 5:1-14).

When I feel hurt or wounded by other people's words, or when I take offence because something hasn't happened in just the way I wanted it to happen, perhaps it's an indication of the real degree of importance I attach to that particular issue. For anything that's really important to me, I'll swallow my pride and live with the hurt. When I walk away from situations with a flounce and a pout, perhaps what I'm really saying is, "I don't care deeply enough about this. Cradling my pride is more important to me than this issue."

I wonder why Jesus treated that woman in such a way? Perhaps he was probing to discover how deeply she loved her child. Or perhaps he was simply being honest, acting in the way he really felt, and saying what he really thought.

We've become so sanitised over the years that we're no longer able to cope with truth. We use sanitising phrases to soften our words, like "with all due respect," which usually means there are harsh words coming and no respect at all is actually felt. Or we hedge around the subject never saying clearly what we really think or feel in case of causing offence.

Jesus never seemed to hedge around anything. Although he spoke in parables, leaving the people to draw their own conclusions from the stories, when he was addressing individuals he was usually exceedingly direct. The truth was far more important to him than protecting other people's wounded pride.

That directness upset some people, and others were unable to cope with it. The Pharisees frequently took offence at Jesus' words, and the rich young man turned away sadly when Jesus told him he must give up his wealth if he wanted to experience eternal life.

But the Canaanite woman in today's story was made of sterner stuff. She knew where her priorities lay, and her daughter's health was far more important to her than wounded pride.

Perhaps Jesus still speaks sharply today when he needs to reach the truth through unhelpful layers of pride. And perhaps if we want to hear his voice and reach the truth, we need to be willing to face his sharpness no matter how much pride is wounded.

Pleasantness and politeness and courtesy are all very nice, and really do oil the wheels of life. But the truth is more important than all of that. We need to learn how to delve beneath the surface of words, whether pleasant and polite words or rude and offensive words, to discover what the truth is really saying.

And perhaps, if we can learn to do that, we too can be instantly healed.