Off the Grid

This way out

I love animals.  I grew up with pets.  Even before we had our own pets, they were around.  As a young boy living in Danbury, Connecticut, I remember spending hours with the family Great Dane, Skippy.  My uncle owned a business and Skippy's job was to keep others out of the garage where the trucks were stored.   But my sister and I enjoyed spending time with this particular "employee" who seemed more like a miniature pony than a dog.  He may have been a terror to would-be thieves, but to us, he was a pal and playmate.

Memories like that rush to mind whenever anyone talks about their pets, and it pains me to think that someone would be capable of cruelty to them.  That's how I got hooked.  A Facebook friend was raising money for one of the organizations fighting animal cruelty, and I gave in.  It was just once.  I dont make a habit of giving to everyone who asks.  I lost my senses and that momentary weakness led me to my wallet and credit card.

How could I have been caught off guard like that?

That was about six months ago, and now I can't hide.  They come every other day in the mail, and it isn't just the group I gave money to.  No.  I've never heard of most of these animal rights, pet protection, and shelter organizations.  I don't know them, but they sure do know me, and they know something else, too.  They know how to make me feel guilty if I take the nickel they paste to the return card, or if I toss the calendar with the sad looking puppies in the recycle bin.  And that's just from that one time when I lost control!

"He entered a house and did not want anyone to know he was there. Yet he could not escape notice..." - Mark 7: 24

In today's reading, Jesus finds himself unable to hide from the ones who want him to help them.  He takes refuge in a house on the outskirts of Tyre, thinking he has left the crowd behind.  Like a common thief, he has stolen away, ditched the posse, gone off the grid, only to encounter a stubborn woman with a smart tongue and enough knowledge of this man to know how to push his buttons.  She challenges him, laying guilt on him for not taking pity on her daughter whom she was determined he could help, if he wanted to.

How dare she?

She was the first century equivalent of the animal lovers who keep trying to get my attention and money, or those "Name Unavailable" people who call my home repeatedly day and night to try to get me to buy energy from someone I never heard of.  For Jesus, this outsider was not in his target market; she was not one of the stops on his itinerary.  He didn't need to give her the time of day.

But he did, didn't he?

Yes, he gave her a hard time, and he entertained her banter.  She was pretty good at it too.  She knew her metaphors and understood the game.  It didn't even bother her that she, being a woman and a Gentile, had no business even talking to him, and should not have approached him at that.  She was one gutsy and desperate woman.

And her persistence paid off.  He listened.

It is easy to say that the message here is that we should have faith and believe, but I think that is too simple.  It misses the other part of the story, the Jesus part.  What is Jesus telling us in his behavior?

For me, this is a tough thing to think about.  I don't like to think of Jesus as someone human who makes mistakes and learns from them, so I can just think of the woman and leave it there.  But I can't do that.

I think Jesus wants me to challenge myself, to listen, to make a real connection with whoever takes the time to try to make one with me.  That's not easy.  Sure, I can avoid the pet people who want money for their cause, but what about the guy on the street who hasn't eaten in days?  Can I make a distinction?

So, what's the lesson?  Do I stop and take the time to find out more, or do I go off the grid?  Maybe I should ask someone who did both,