Did Jesus Just Call That Woman a Bitch?

The idea of a misogynist or racist Jesus is a shocking one — but what can we learn from his encounter with the Syrophoenician woman?

No one is born hating another person because of the color of his skin, or his background, or his religion. People must learn to hate, and if they can learn to hate, they can be taught to love, for love comes more naturally to the human heart than its opposite.

Nelson Rolihlahla Mandela

If Google had existed during the 1980s and one was able to enter ‘South Africa’ into the search bar, the links most likely to pop up would have probably been about the country’s system of institutionalized racial segregation known as apartheid, and Nelson Mandela, the anti-apartheid activist who at the time was serving a life sentence in prison.

Anyone living in South Africa at the time who was subjected to the draconian laws that were enacted under apartheid will know first-hand what racism looks like. As The Daily Show’s Trevor Noah noted in his stand-up comedy routine, Learning About ‘Charming Racism’, South Africa was known for “top quality racism.”

What was probably the most damning aspect of apartheid was the fact that the architects thereof used the Bible to justify it, with the Nederduitse Gereformeerde Kerk (Dutch Reformed Church) providing the theological underpinnings to support such beliefs.

Shocking, isn’t it? That a church could not only stand by silently while the atrocities of apartheid were being committed — in the name of God, no less — but actively endorse such an unjust system using Scripture to justify it.

As a kid growing up in South Africa during this time, my childhood and teenage years were spent blissfully unaware of the brutal reality of this racist abomination.

This was no accident — in fact, it was by design.

The National Party government’s propaganda machine was so effective in controlling what we read in newspapers, heard on the radio, watched on television, and were taught in schools, that the majority of white South Africans were firmly indoctrinated into the fact that this was a normal and appropriate way to live.

Thankfully, this horrible system of subjugation was consigned to the scrapheap of history in 1994 with the first-ever election of a fully representative government in which people of all races could participate, culminating in the election of Nelson Mandela as South Africa’s first black President.

Of course, discrimination against those considered to be ‘less than’ those holding the power is not something that South Africa invented — it’s something that has blighted human existence since the beginning of time.

Even today, people the world over continue to struggle with all manners of discrimination, whether based on race, gender, nationality, political affiliation, sexual orientation, or any other difference that one may feel irrationally threatened by.

The rise of movements such as #BlackLivesMatter, #MeToo, the various Pride marches taking place in cities across the world, and many more, is a clear indication that those who have been marginalized for generations are starting to find their voice, crying out:

Enough! This has to stop!

If there’s one place where this has to stop most of all, it’s within the Body of Christ. No longer can we continue to use Scripture as a weapon to marginalize others, as the Dutch Reformed Church did in apartheid South Africa.

And yet discrimination is still alive and well within the church, as many readers of The Backyard Church will know too well.

Moving towards inclusivity — one step at a time, one week at a time, one church at a time

There’s a local church near my home that is actively seeking ways to foster greater inclusivity, not only within the church itself but also within the wider community.

One of the ways that they are hoping will facilitate this is a new style of worship that not only draws in people of all ages but creates an environment where issues of discrimination and exclusion can be consciously and actively interrogated, as well as a ‘safe space’ where those who have been marginalized can find healing and a sense of belonging.

I have been afforded the privilege of leading the first worship service to be held in this new format — and because of the number of people involved, the material that will be used in various ‘stations’ including Bible study, meditation, crafts, etc. is based on the passages set out in the Revised Common Lectionary for this week (5 September 2021).

The set passage from James 2: 1–17 sets up the theme quite nicely:

Don’t show favoritism ¹My brothers and sisters, when you show favoritism you deny the faithfulness of our Lord Jesus Christ, who has been resurrected in glory. ²Imagine two people coming into your meeting. One has a gold ring and fine clothes, while the other is poor, dressed in filthy rags. ³Then suppose that you were to take special notice of the one wearing fine clothes, saying, “Here’s an excellent place. Sit here.” But to the poor person you say, “Stand over there”; or, “Here, sit at my feet.” ⁴Wouldn’t you have shown favoritism among yourselves and become evil-minded judges?

⁵My dear brothers and sisters, listen! Hasn’t God chosen those who are poor by worldly standards to be rich in terms of faith? Hasn’t God chosen the poor as heirs of the kingdom he has promised to those who love him? ⁶But you have dishonored the poor. Don’t the wealthy make life difficult for you? Aren’t they the ones who drag you into court? ⁷Aren’t they the ones who insult the good name spoken over you at your baptism?

⁸You do well when you really fulfill the royal law found in scripture, ‘Love your neighbor as yourself’. ⁹But when you show favoritism, you are committing a sin, and by that same law you are exposed as a lawbreaker.

¹⁰Anyone who tries to keep all of the Law but fails at one point is guilty of failing to keep all of it. ¹¹The one who said, Don’t commit adultery, also said, Don’t commit murder. So if you don’t commit adultery but do commit murder, you are a lawbreaker. ¹²In every way, then, speak and act as people who will be judged by the law of freedom.

¹³There will be no mercy in judgment for anyone who hasn’t shown mercy. Mercy overrules judgment.

Showing faith ¹⁴My brothers and sisters, what good is it if people say they have faith but do nothing to show it? Claiming to have faith can’t save anyone, can it? ¹⁵Imagine a brother or sister who is naked and never has enough food to eat. ¹⁶What if one of you said, “Go in peace! Stay warm! Have a nice meal!”? What good is it if you don’t actually give them what their body needs?

¹⁷In the same way, faith is dead when it doesn’t result in faithful activity.

However, when it comes to the Gospel passage as set out in Mark 7: 24–30, this is where things start getting a bit awkward:

The Syrophoenician Woman’s Faith ²⁴From there [Gennesaret] he [Jesus] set out and went away to the region of Tyre. He entered a house and did not want anyone to know he was there.

Yet he could not escape notice, ²⁵but a woman whose little daughter had an unclean spirit immediately heard about him, and she came and bowed down at his feet. ²⁶Now the woman was a Gentile, of Syrophoenician origin. She begged him to cast the demon out of her daughter.

²⁷He said to her, “Let the children be fed first, for it is not fair to take the children’s food and throw it to the dogs.” ²⁸But she answered him, “Sir, even the dogs under the table eat the children’s crumbs.”

²⁹Then he said to her, “For saying that, you may go — the demon has left your daughter.” ³⁰So she went home, found the child lying on the bed, and the demon gone.

Dear God in heaven … what have I just read here?

Is Jesus racist? Or a misogynist?

I am by no means the first preacher — or the first reader of the Bible, for that matter — who has been sharply taken aback by what appears to be not only blatant racism but also misogyny of the worst kind.

And what’s even worse is that this time the antagonist is not a Pharisee or some hothead Zealot — it’s Jesus who is acting so deplorably!

What gives?

Come to think about it, perhaps the architects of apartheid didn’t need the Dutch Reformed Church to help them justify their actions after all — it’s right here, as plain as the nose on one’s face!

This is the same Jesus who used the Parable of the Good Samaritan to make the Jewish religious leader see his xenophobia for what it is when he has to acknowledge that the despised Samaritan is not only his neighbour, but is far more merciful than he could ever conceive.

This is the same Jesus who broke all conventions and religious taboos in his encounter with the woman at the well, meeting her on her own terms and reaching out to her when many had shunned her.

This is the same Jesus who constantly jousted with the Pharisees and other religious leaders when they abused the Law for their own gain, used it as a stick to police the behavior of others, and turned it into a wall of exclusion towards those who needed God’s grace the most.

This is the same Jesus who welcomed children, mixed with outcasts, shared meals with ‘sinners’ and others who the religious elite considered undesirable, and showed acts of mercy in defiance of the Sabbath rules that the teachers of the Law had imposed.

And yet in this particular passage, we see a different Jesus. We see a Jesus who appears to be insulting and dehumanising a desperate woman seeking the health of her family. We see a Jesus who is writing off Gentiles as second-class citizens. We see Jesus making a statement that is dripping with prejudice and ethnocentrism.

Why is this encounter with the Syrophoenician woman so different … so out of place, and so contrary to the character of Jesus portrayed so vividly throughout the Gospels, and written about so eloquently by Paul, Peter, James, and others?

Something doesn’t add up.

Being the proverbial cat on a (theological) hot tin roof

This passage has perplexed scholars, preachers, and ordinary readers of the Bible for ages — and no-one has really been able to come up with a satisfactory explanation for this apparent anomaly.

Many have therefore tried to put a ‘spin’ on it, employing all sorts of theological and hermeneutical gymnastics to explain away the manner in which Jesus has dehumanised this woman by comparing her and her sick child to a ‘dog’.

Theory 1: Jesus as both ‘fully divine’ and ‘fully human’

Some have argued that since Jesus was both ‘fully divine’ and ‘fully human’, the human side of Jesus meant that he experienced life as a human. So to paraphrase Forrest Gump, “when he was hungry, he ate; when he was thirsty, he drank; when he needed to go, he went; and when he was tired, he slept”.

In this case (so the theory goes), Jesus was extremely tired, wanted to be alone, and should be cut some slack if he’s being a bit cranky.

If one goes back a few chapters in Mark’s Gospel, we see that Jesus had clearly racked up some mileage as he went around teaching, healing, casting out spirits, and having the odd scuffle with the Pharisees.

He and his disciples almost drowned during a fierce storm while crossing the Sea of Galilee. Once he arrived at the Gerasenes, a demon-possessed man came charging at him. He then had to feed a multitude of people, did some more teaching, healed some more people, and had yet another spot of bother from the Pharisees.

By the time Jesus got to the region of Tyre, he was shattered — but instead of being left in peace to get some much-needed shut-eye, there’s this pesky foreign woman wanting him to heal her sick kid. Can’t a man catch a break?

The problem with this theory is a fairly straight-forward one: No matter how tired one is, that’s no excuse to be a racist, misogynist jerk.

Besides, since we are created in the image of God, we should act according to God’s character. Of all people who should understand that, one would surely expect the Son of God to understand better than anyone else?

Theory 2: Lost in translation

Another theory goes around the Greek word that has been translated into English as ‘dogs’.

The argument is that since Mark uses the diminutive term kynaria (which can be translated as ‘little dogs’ or ‘puppies’), rather than kynos (describing dogs in general), the intention is one of endearment, rather than to insult. The picture supposedly being painted is one of a happy home life with children around the dinner table and a cute puppy begging for some titbit.

This contention strikes me as being rather absurd, since applying a diminutive does not negate the insult. For example, one of the throwbacks from the apartheid era in South Africa whereby white people referred to black adult men and women as ‘boy’ or ‘girl’ is considered to be particularly derogatory.

It is also inconsistent with the term ‘dog’ in the Old Testament where it was just about always used as a form of insult, while Matthew uses ‘dog’ in similar vein to distinguish between those who revere that which is holy and those who do not.

In effect, Jesus is portrayed as calling the Syrophoenician woman a ‘bitch’.

I put this scenario to the woman who will be leading the Bible study group at our upcoming service, asking her whether she would feel somewhat less insulted if I were to call her a ‘little bitch’ rather than a straight-up ‘bitch’.

There’s no prizes for guessing what her answer was!

Theory 3: Jesus’ primary mission was to ‘the lost sheep of Israel’

This one is built on the premise that Jesus was sent to bring the message of Good News primarily to the ‘lost sheep of Israel’ — in other words, the Jews — supported by Matthew’s account of Jesus’ encounter with the Syrophoenician woman.

The theory is also supported in Matthew’s Gospel where Jesus instructs his disciples: “Do not go into the way of the Gentiles, and do not enter a city of the Samaritans. But rather go to the lost sheep of the house of Israel” (Matthew 10: 5–6).

It gains further traction from Acts 1: 8 where the disciples are to be Jesus’ “witnesses … in Jerusalem, and in all of Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth” (Acts 1: 8) — in that particular order, supported by Paul’s letter to the church in Rome in which he states that “I am not ashamed of the Gospel of Christ, for it is the power of God for salvation to everyone who believes, for the Jew first and also for the Greek” (Romans 1: 6, my emphasis).

Now let’s grant for a moment that these statements do in fact represent Jesus’ order of priority for his mission. In a way it makes sense — start within your immediate vicinity, then move gradually outwards as the message spreads.

There’s nothing wrong with setting priorities — in fact, we do this all the time as part of our normal daily lives.

For example, the fact that I’ve chosen this particular time slot to write this article as part of my preparation for the upcoming Sunday’s service means that taking my wife shopping is going to have to wait until I’m done — and being the gracious and supportive person that she is, she respects my priorities in this instance.

However, if I’m going to be insulting towards my wife, treating her like dirt, calling her horrid names, and dismissing the importance of the weekly shop (without which we don’t get to eat next week), there’s no doubt that she’ll tell me where I can shove my precious sermon.

Do it enough times, and I’ll soon be told where to shove our marriage.

Could this passage be seen as ‘banter’, or as satire?

With all that said, I’m not sure that I can necessarily offer anything much better without resorting to a fair bit of speculation, and thus acknowledge that the views that follow cannot necessarily be regarded as any more conclusive than any others that have been offered.

So here is my offering as a contribution to the discussion, in the humble hope that we can somehow make sense of how this passage came to be placed within the pages of Scripture. Note that this is a view — I’m not for one minute suggesting that it’s the only view.

Banter

Context is obviously important, but for the purposes of this discussion it’s important for readers to understand my context.

I’ve already mentioned that I grew up in South Africa and ended up living there for 42 years. However, I was actually born in the UK (and am therefore British), and my British parents continued to bring me up in that culture and way of life even after we relocated to South Africa.

Being British means that one soon gets used to the concept of ‘banter’, where we have some or other smart aleck thing to say about everything and everyone at every occasion. Whether it’s a means of coping with the ever-changing weather on this soggy little island that we call home, who knows?

However, it’s virtually an established fact that when your circle of friends start hurling insults your way, it is a sure sign that you’re “one of us” — bestowing a warm sense of belonging and acceptance as an integral member of the group.

So if Jesus was British, this exchange with the Syrophoenician woman would make all the sense in the world … except that even in British culture, there’s a fine line between playful banter, and being demeaning and insulting.

There’s a time and a place for throwing out the odd off-colour remark, and when not to.

• When you’re shooting the breeze with your mates at the pub — it’s a good time.
• When someone comes to you in a crisis; with a sick child, for instance — it’s not a good time.

One can then probably draw the obvious conclusion that Jesus’ words to the Syrophoenician woman were clearly not intended as banter, notwithstanding the woman’s witty comeback.

Satire

According to Britannica.com, satire is defined as an “artistic form, chiefly literary and dramatic, in which human or individual vices, follies, abuses, or shortcomings are held up to censure by means of ridicule, derision, burlesque, irony, parody, caricature, or other methods, sometimes with an intent to inspire social reform.”

It involves the use of humour, irony, exaggeration, or ridicule to expose and criticize people’s stupidity or vices, particularly in the context of contemporary politics and other topical issues.

What’s important to note is that the Bible is not a single unitary work of literature, and should not be read as one. The modern canon comprises 66 books, written by numerous authors over thousands of years. It encompasses a variety of genres, including allegory, folk stories, historical records, love stories, poetry, lament, letters of encouragement, prophecy, legislation, and even statistics!

So given that the encounter with the Syrophoenician woman seems so out of character for Jesus, and completely at odds with the radical inclusiveness that Jesus portrays throughout the rest of the Gospels, one cannot rule out the possibility that this particular passage from Mark’s Gospel represents a form of satire.

Like I said — probably not much better than all the other scholars, to be honest.

The final word (for now, at least …)

In all that I’ve said thus far, I’ve not once located myself in the place of the Syrophoenician woman.

It’s difficult for me to identify with her — in that as a white male living in the 21st century in one of the wealthiest countries in the world, I am far removed from her situation.

I also need to acknowledge that while my life has had its fair share of ups and downs, my years on earth thus far have been ones of relative comfort. I’ve had the privilege of receiving a good education — which has translated into a lifestyle that, while by no means lavish, can certainly be regarded as comfortable.

I am happily married to a woman who loves, supports, and affirms me. I have sufficient food in my fridge, clothes to wear, a car to get me around, and a roof over my head. I have never known the desperation of having a child who is critically ill, and I have little understanding of what it’s like to be a woman who has been abused.

And while I have experienced racism at times (yes, folks who are not white are capable of this), it pales into insignificance in comparison to the kind of racism that black people around the world have been subjected to — whether in South Africa (especially during apartheid), the UK, the US, or elsewhere.

So I’m going to leave the last word to someone who can identify with the Syrophoenician woman.

This person is the Rev Wil Gafney, who is an American Episcopal priest and professor of Hebrew Bible at Brite Divinity School in Fort Worth, Texas. She’s a woman. She’s black. She’s a priest and a professor.

And she lives in Texas. I’ll leave the rest to my readers’ imagination.

Here is an extract from her incredible sermon (which I would have loved to have heard her preach) from which the title of this article was derived…

I’m a black woman living in an American context that alternately demonizes and exploits my womanhood. If the Gospel isn’t relevant to my context then it’s not Gospel, good news to me.

And I stand with and in the place of all of those girls and women who are called the b-word by men and boys and other girls and women. Who hear the word on television and in the movies and in the music that is marketed to them, to us.

I stand with the women and feminine-gender performing folk of various subcultures who use the word affectionately and with those who have redefined it for themselves.

And I’m standing up to Jesus, talking to and about women like me using language like that.

Some of you may be asking, where is the Jesus I know and love? Well, I think I caught a glimpse of him, in the midrashic space between their words. The listening, learning Jesus is the one I know and love.

In this story, this nameless woman is also a Christ-figure. She is the one who humbles herself and will endure whatever is dished out to her in order to bring healing and new life. She is the rabbi, who teaches Jesus the value of all human life. She is the prophet who preaches the reign of God for all of God’s children. She is the one who transforms the narrowly ethnocentric Jesus into the savior of the whole world.

Apparently, even Jesus needed a little help. In becoming her student, Jesus becomes our teacher.

As a colleague recently reminded me, this is a passage that will sort out your Christology.

How human, how divine is your Jesus? Is he human enough to be bigoted and biased? Or does your preconceived notion of the divinity of Jesus mean that whatever he said was holy, therefore comparing a woman to a female dog isn’t really the same as calling her a b — –, or it’s alright as long as it’s Jesus.

How divine is your Jesus? That Jesus listens and responds to the woman, is that an indication of humanity or divinity? Or is it both? I think the humanity and divinity of Jesus are all tangled up in this passage, sometimes thick and sometimes thin, neither distinguishable from the other, impossible to sort out.

In this troubling story, Jesus teaches me the value of listening, the value of hearing, and the value of being able to grow and change your mind.

Perhaps Jesus is a process theologian. In either case he models divinity and humanity in a muddy, godly, morass. Jesus is God enough / human enough / man enough to change his mind.

And that is Good News!

So the short answer, then: What can we learn from this controversial passage?

Firstly, never trust a preacher who says “finally”!

Secondly, the likelihood that some people will be highly upset with me for using the word ‘bitch’ in the context of a sermon — instead of being shocked not only of the idea of Jesus insulting the Syrophoenician woman, but also of the reality of our own bigotry — is a delicious irony.

In this regard, Sam Lufi has written an outstanding post entitled The F-Bomb and Other Offenses which sets out his take on this problematic passage from Mark’s Gospel.

Finally (and I really mean it this time!), if we locate ourselves in the place of Jesus within this passage, we can learn the following about ourselves:

• None of us have clean hands when it comes to discrimination against others — least of all, within the body of Christ. Once we acknowledge that, we can start looking at ways to change.
• When the Syrophoenician woman pushed back at Jesus, she was claiming her right to share in God’s grace. We would do well to recognise this right that others have, as well as our responsibility to be rivers when it comes to the grace of God, rather than being dams.
• Her pushback also caused Jesus to pause, listen, and acknowledge not only her claim, but her need — and he responded appropriately. It is therefore critical that we listen to where people are at, acknowledge our complicity in their situation, and respond in a manner that acknowledges, upholds, and affirms their value.

In short, in order to bring about God’s grace and healing, we need to change, and we can change. We need to do better, we can do better, and with God’s help we can be better!