Through Canaanite eyes

Oh, to be heard. To be so honored as to be heard. To be deeply and "longly", if necessary, listened to. (Sorry about the grammar.)

For us whose lives revolve around the lectionary, the week beginning last Monday drew its inspiration from Matthew's version of a story featuring a distraught parent and Jesus*. She -- a foreigner, a Gentile, a Canaanite (also known as the Syrophonician in Mark's gospel+) -- wanted a hearing and he -- a Jew -- didn't consider her worthy of his attention. I feel Syrophonician today, Syrophonician -- minus the encounter, minus the being heard.

It isn't that I'm not trying to say what I so need to express, to form into coherent, balanced, orderly words, sentences and paragraphs what feels so urgent to me. And, it isn't that I need anyone to grant me anything extraordinary. That is, I am not expecting change of heart or mind, no reversals of decision. I simply want to be heard and acknowledged. Even a insult would be better than nothing at all. In Matthew Jesus ignores once, insults twice!!

Is there something specific going on? Is there a particular set of circumstances bringing me to this point of wordy-but-unheard frustration? Of course, there is. The immediate situation, however, isn't the real issue and doesn't deserve or require explanation. More important than what is happening with me (or not happening in this case) is the overall dynamic of speaking and listening. That authentic interaction which can make way for new understanding.

Jesus dismissed her. She persisted. She even outsmarted him. Jesus was changed and so was the course of history for that matter.

Maybe that's why we have such difficulty granting another our attention. Maybe we fear having to change. Maybe the possibility of being persuaded is so threatening that we have to pretend the speaker is nothing more than a pesky gnat buzzing around our ears. We go so far as to demonize the speaker. With labels and attitude we insulate ourselves from having to hear another way or to open ourselves to seeing to one side or another, to seeing beyond our own view.

I wrestle with two questions. First, while being heard is what I know I want presently, as opposed to changing anyone's mind, is that enough, would that be enough, in general, for most people? Would that actually do? Or, do we, in general, want our way? Would being heard, maybe not completely satisfy us but, give us some peace and allow us to move on? To accept the "no" and simply continue our lives?

Second, when the occasion presents itself and we find ourselves in the other role, the role of listening or not listening, how willing are we to grant our attention? How afraid are we to welcome the speaker? Do we have it in us to open ourselves to the other, risking having, kindly, to stand firm or having, gracefully, to admit the limitation of our point of view?

The month of August 2005 presents us the bones of Matthew and Mark's story on American soil. There is a ranch with a fence and a gate, behind which resides a well-known man, a powerful man. On the public side of that fence and gate is a grieving mother, a woman who wants to be heard. Is she being dismissed or insulted? Well, there's been no encounter to date. I suspect, were these two individuals actually to meet, neither one would be willing, or able, to alter their position. But, I wonder -- could they simply talk to each other, could it ever be that he would silently and without defense listen to her and, similarly, she to him?

Were they able only God knows what would happen.

*Mt 15:21-28
+Mk 7:24-30