Daily Reflection Thursday of the Fifth Week in Ordinary Time

As we first meet the woman in today's healing miracle story, she is unnamed but already laden with labels that will both set the stage and then be completely turned upside down after her encounter with Jesus. Our Gospel writer Mark tells us she is 'Greek,' she is 'Syrophoenician', she is 'Gentile.' (In Matthew's telling of the same episode, the adjective is 'Canaanite'.) Labels -- shorthand for all the history of stereotypes and hatred that had marked the boundaries between inside Chosen People and outside Others.  
 
Jesus is brushing against these boundaries as his ministry has taken him to the coastal city of Tyre, the most northern outpost of his travels throughout Galilee. We have little background on why this destination, but when Jesus moves, we are well advised to take notice. Entering boldly into the private home where Jesus is resting and residing comes this woman with labels ablaze. Tradition would say that she has no claim on Jesus, but she risks the consequences of violating social norms and religious codes to plead for the healing of her daughter. At first, there is confusion, even rejection. Sharp dialogue, not playful banter. These conversation partners are not even speaking the same language! 'Dogs' -- mongrels roaming in neighborhood packs, or inside-the-house beloved pets? The woman doesn't take offense at what seems to us Jesus' insulting rebuff but intuits that Jesus is indeed Good News that cannot be contained by any barrier. Her faith has compelled her to move across the confines of old understandings. She is a bearer of truth to Jesus. The Savior of the World blesses her with the restored health of her daughter. We are the blessed beneficiaries of the courage and tenacity of this woman. New labels: 'Woman of Faith;' 'Foremother of the Gentile Church.'
 
In a world so filled with 'barbed-wire labels' -- in our political discourse or lack thereof, in Church, in families -- we might ask ourselves today how we are traveling to the borderlands, those cutting edge places outside our spiritual cocoons where new insight and growth can come. Where are we finding opportunities for respectful conversation and deep listening to the experiences of the other? When was the last time we said 'Tell me more.' or 'Help me understand.' or 'I never thought of it that way.' or 'Your struggle to remain faithful to your tradition challenges me to examine my own in a new way.'
 
Pope Francis traveled to South Sudan last week to challenge the explosive tensions stemming from the barricades that have been erected in this young, predominantly Christian nation. "Let each citizen understand that the time has come to stop being carried away by the tainted waters of hatred, tribalism, regionalism, and ethnic differences," he exhorted the tens of thousands gathered for an outdoor Mass in the capital city Juba. (The Pope obviously ignored the latest Travel Advisory from the U.S. government: "Avoid all travel to South Sudan due to armed conflicts, inter-ethnic violence, and high levels of violent crime.")
 
In our Gospel passage today, Jesus has already traveled one hundred miles by foot. This miracle healing story is all that is recorded for us as an entry in his travelogue. It must represent for the Gospel writers the distillation of a message quite profound. We need not travel to Africa nor walk even one mile to hear and embrace its message. We ignore it at our peril.