Where does my flesh get in the way?

     "I don't need to defend God."  That is a statement one of my colleagues makes regularly, especially when things in life aren't going well and God is the one who gets blamed.  This might seem like common sense, or you may even wonder why it is worth saying at all.  Well, in that case, please read the gospel lesson from Mark for this coming Sunday.  In this lesson you might find that Jesus isn't acting the way we would suppose Jesus should act.  He isn't nice and compassionate, and he certainly doesn't evoke those peaceful, serene images we see hanging on church walls and hospital nightstands.
     This gospel lesson invokes in me the desire to defend, protect, and make excuses for Jesus.  For his behavior is less-than-savior-like: he calls a woman a dog.  Now, there have been  many attempts to explain this away, and I've heard all of them in sermons at one time or another.
     But I don't buy it.
I believe there is no explaining away this uncomfortable situation - I don't believe Jesus was testing her, and really knew how she would react.  I don't believe you can explain away the situation by blaming language and translation barriers.  I do believe that Jesus was a human and a product of his own culture, beliefs, and limited human capacity for understanding.
     Notice that in Mark's gospel Jesus is adamant that people don't tell that he healed them, "for he didn't want any to know".  Time and again after Jesus heals, teaches, or does some other miraculous work, he insists that no one tell anyone.  We often forget that Jesus was God, but that God was bound to flesh - and everything that goes along with it.  Perhaps Jesus was just looking at things from a flesh perspective.
     Now, this doesn't explain anything away.  It simply puts it in a different light.  Think about it: Jesus was sent to fulfill the prophecies of God sending a savior for the Israelites.  Jesus read about himself in scripture, and in the Hebrew Bible, the Messiah comes to save them.  Only them.  It doesn't say anything about savior of the world.  And look at the work he had.
    Imagine that the savior finally comes and then, upon living among the people he is supposed to save realizes what a big job it is. 

"God, you want me to save these people?"   

So he sets about the difficult task of saving them only to realize it would take much more resources, time, and planning than he had originally thought.  And then there comes this other person.  Saving the Gentiles wasn't in his job description.  He was supposed to be resting at this point in scripture.  But here was another person wanting his attention.  His talents.  His time.  His resources.
     Like any of us who have limited resources, Jesus reacted with frustration, perhaps, and a perfectly human tone of voice.  Jesus' mission wasn't to the Gentiles.  It was to the Israelites.  Which is where the divinity of God comes in.  While human time, talents, and resources are limited, the grace of God is not. 
     This woman, in her pushing and asking, perhaps changed Jesus' own human perspective of his mission.  While he was tired, God was not.  While he was taxed beyond belief, God was his strength.  While his view was limited and bound, God helped to broaden his understanding and see the limitless nature of grace.
     So we haven't explained away Jesus' actions and words.  We haven't made excuses, or defended him.  What we have here, however, is a mirror for our own lives.  But, if Jesus was subject to viewing the world from a limited point of view, where does that leave us?  Where is God calling me to broaden my perspective and accept God's limitless grace?  Where does my flesh get in my way?