Good afternoon. The first item of business this afternoon is time for reflection. Our time for reflection leader today is the Rev Alexander Horsburgh, minister of Dalkeith St Nicholas Buccleuch parish church, moderator of the presbytery of Lothian and secretary of the council of the World Communion of Reformed Churches in Europe.
Presiding Officer, thank you for your invitation and for the honour of addressing Parliament.
The story that I want to tell is a difficult one. It concerns a middle eastern mother. She is utterly desperate. She has no power and no one to help her. Her daughter is in grave danger. She will do anything to rescue her child from the torment that she is suffering. She hears of someone, recently arrived, who is said to have helped others in similar circumstances. She finds the house in which he is staying, forces her way in and demands the help that she and her daughter so desperately need. The man turns on her, calls her a dog and says that what he does is not for the likes of her.
If you think that I have been telling a contemporary story, that is good, but I have not been. It is a story from the earliest of the gospels, Mark. The woman’s name is not known, but the man’s name is: Jesus of Nazareth.
Christians do not readily acknowledge that Jesus could be cruel, but on this occasion he was. “It is not fair to take the children’s food and throw it to the dogs,” he said, meaning that what he was saying and doing was for the Jews, not others. The woman, whose only power lay in her quick wit and eloquence, replied, “I may be no more than a dog to you, but even dogs get scraps. I’m not asking for much—just a scrap.”
If you now think I that have been telling an ancient story, that would be only partly true. It is a contemporary story too. Desperate people from the middle east are demanding help from those they know can help. Those who are drowning in the Mediterranean are not tasting even a scrap.
The woman’s words changed Jesus. He healed her daughter and, in the next story, restored a man’s hearing, saying the Aramaic word “ephphatha”, which means “be opened”. Jesus’ own heart was opened by the electrifying words of that desperate, suffering woman.
This woman calls us all, not just Jesus, to recognise the humanity in every other person. That Aramaic word should ring in the ears of all of us. Every day, we should tell ourselves, be open—open to our minds being changed, open to those in need, open to our wealth being shared. A closed heart is a cruel heart, but from an open heart flow love and compassion and care.