Then Jesus Went to the Beach

Then Jesus went to the beach.

Until this past week, I hadn’t noticed that Jesus’ famous interaction with the Syrophoenician woman takes place beside the sea. Come to think of it, I had never pictured Jesus retreating that far west, certainly not all the way to a coastal region like Tyre. But on closer inspection, it makes perfect sense. He has spent the last several chapters preaching and teaching and healing and convening the disciples and confronting the religious authorities and feeding the crowds and crossing the Sea of Galilee twice. No wonder he’s in need of some R & R: “[Jesus] set out,” Mark tells us, “and went away to the region of Tyre. He entered a house and did not want anyone to know he was there.” What better way for Jesus to get a break from the stress of ministry than to escape to a place where he can enjoy a little sun and surf?

It reminds me of an annual French tradition called “les grandes vacances,” or the summer holidays. As My French Country Home, the Magazine reports:

Every August, an interesting phenomenon occurs in France: cities quiet down, shops close, and the bustling energy of daily life takes a noticeable pause. This annual exodus… sees millions of French people flocking to the coastlines, countryside, and other vacation destinations, leaving urban areas almost deserted.

The French tradition of taking the whole month of August off is more than just a vacation; it’s a cultural statement. It embodies the French commitment to enjoying life, valuing relationships, and maintaining a healthy work-life balance. As cities empty and the countryside fills with laughter and relaxation, the French August exodus serves as a reminder that sometimes, the best way to appreciate life is to slow down and savor each moment. Whether it’s a stroll through a sun-drenched vineyard or a leisurely meal with loved ones, the French have perfected the art of living well — and August is their time to celebrate it.[1]

By the way, My French Country Home, the Magazine can also provide tips for sun care and French fashion at the beach.

In any case, at this point in Mark’s Gospel story, it seems that Jesus is in the mood for some relaxation à la française. He understands as well as anyone the need for “a healthy work-life balance.” Maybe that’s why he’s a little irked by the Syrophoenician woman’s desperate plea in today’s text: “[Jesus] did not want anyone to know he was [in the house]. Yet he could not escape notice, but a woman whose little daughter had an unclean spirit immediately heard about him, and she came and… begged him to cast the demon out of her daughter.” Jesus’ reply is famous for scandalizing interpreters: “Let the children [that is, the people of Israel] be fed first, for it is not fair to take the children’s food and throw it to the dogs.” Ouch.

The immediate impulse is to excuse or at least soften Jesus’ insult. Some interpreters have argued that his words are not authentic to the original text, but were added by an editor with an agenda. Others have proposed that Jesus’ phrase was a well-known proverb, so it would not have been as harsh in its original context.[2] Still others have suggested that the diminutive Greek term here, “little dogs,” is, in fact, endearing– that Jesus is referring to non-Jewish people as “puppies.”[3]

But explanations like these come across as nervous efforts to distract from the uncomfortable fact that, in this instance, Jesus appears to be caught with his compassion down.[4] He’s trying to take a break, after all, so maybe he’s not as prepared to meet yet another need. The Gospel writer of Mark, however, is clearly less concerned with preserving Jesus’ perfect image than he is with telling a story of God’s unbounded grace.

After all, Jesus’ response to the Syrophoenician woman is not the end of the story. Wincing from the snub, she quickly replies: “Sir, even the dogs under the table eat the children’s crumbs.” In other words, even the Gentiles are included in the Master’s feast; even we are loved and cared for by God. With a rhetorical flare that matches Jesus’ own, the Syrophoenician woman reframes Jesus’ metaphor and thus persuades him to grant her request to heal her daughter.

Jesus is our best Teacher, yet he allows an unnamed stranger to teach him about the wideness of God’s mercy. And we don’t need to be embarrassed by that; Jesus’ openness to the influence of grace– his willingness to accept a deeper truth– does not diminish his authority, but reinforces it,[5] as the Syrophoenician woman calls him into his identity and purpose as the Savior of the whole world. So in the end, his beach retreat benefits us all.

Friends, we may be blessing backpacks and heading back to school, but the beach is calling nonetheless. Where do you perceive an invitation to live more expansively? Where is there room in your life to lean into generosity and grace, both for your sake and for the sake of your neighbors, especially those who are different from you? Where might you find healing and peace amid the stress of life’s demands? Whatever your beach, don’t miss the chance to go there, and return transformed.

[1] “The French August Vacation: A Cultural Tradition,” myfrenchcountryhomemagazine.com/the-french-august-vacation-a-cultural-tradition/.

[2] Douglas R.A. Hare, in Feasting on the Word, Year B, Vol. 4, 47.

[3] Pheme Perkins, The New Interpreter’s Bible, Vol. VIII, 610.

[4] Amy C. Howe, in Feasting on the Word, Year B, Vol. 4, 44.

[5] See Dawn Ottoni Wilhelm, in Feasting on the Word, Year B, Vol. 4, 49.