The term racism has little meaning beyond a hatred of what is traditional. A disgust in the mores of the native people, and a love of other culture. It is used as a wedge to subvert what is good and proper and right in a culture.

As if all cultures are equally good and right and proper: they are not.

They are not. And Christ worked that way. By the standards of the Social Justice Wimps, Christ was racist and hurtful, for he called a Syrian-Phonecian woman a dog: the standard Jewish epithet for the Goyim.

The same twits forget that her child was healed.

And from there he arose and went away to the region of Tyre and Sidon. And he entered a house and did not want anyone to know, yet he could not be hidden. But immediately a woman whose little daughter had an unclean spirit heard of him and came and fell down at his feet. Now the woman was a Gentile, a Syrophoenician by birth. And she begged him to cast the demon out of her daughter. And he said to her, “Let the children be fed first, for it is not right to take the children's bread and throw it to the dogs.” But she answered him, “Yes, Lord; yet even the dogs under the table eat the children's crumbs.” And he said to her, “For this statement you may go your way; the demon has left your daughter.” And she went home and found the child lying in bed and the demon gone.

	Then he returned from the region of Tyre and went through Sidon to the Sea of Galilee, in the region of the Decapolis. And they brought to him a man who was deaf and had a speech impediment, and they begged him to lay his hand on him. And taking him aside from the crowd privately, he put his fingers into his ears, and after spitting touched his tongue. And looking up to heaven, he sighed and said to him, “Ephphatha,” that is, “Be opened.” And his ears were opened, his tongue was released, and he spoke plainly. And Jesus charged them to tell no one. But the more he charged them, the more zealously they proclaimed it. And they were astonished beyond measure, saying, “He has done all things well. He even makes the deaf hear and the mute speak.”

(Mark 7:24-37 ESV)

Christ had gone into the country of the Gentiles. Tyre was the home of the Phoenicians, who by now had given up their corrupt worship of Tophet and Molech (after the Romans extracted righteous vengeance on that civilization and sowed the fields of Carthage with salt). The Decapolis were ten Hellenistic city states in what now would be the borders of Syria and Lebanon.

Why was he there? His mission was to the people of Israel: he made this clear in Tyre. The text gives us the clue: he did not want any to know where he was: he , or at least his disciples, needed a break. And in both places he healed: in both places he was known. Now, this does snow that the goodness of GOd is not just for the twelve tribes of Israel and need not, as Gentiles, speculate if we are part of those lost tribes. The gospel has no limits, and we have been grafted, as Paul said, onto the rootstock of Israel.

This is all good. But to the current bunch of twerps, not good enough. For Jesus implied that the culture of Tyre was not righteous. When it was not righteous: Tyre fell as prophesied within two generations of this time.

We forget, at our peril, that righteousness exalts a nation. This does not mean that we need cast the flamboyantly camp off columns, as those twits in ISIS do (ignoring the Muslim men in the mob who bay on cue, but on Man-Love Thursday couple with each other). It does mean that we teach what is good and true and right and call out which is wrong and unhealthy. This includes sexual immorality, and there we will offend. It includes moving from a culture of envy to one of charity: it means encouraging all men to work and women to love their husbands and children (and work differently: the domestic arts and crafts, if not true art and culture.

Martin van Creeveld (who you should read: his works on strategy are very good) went to an exhibition of impressionist paintings while visiting Europe. He notes:

What I do want to write about is a short text posted on one of the walls by way of telling visitors what they are seeing. One of the things the two movements had in common, it said, was the fact that, at the time, “women’s emancipation was still far away.” Supposedly that explained why so many of the paintings showed women in “domestic settings.” Meaning, presumably, anything that does not involve a “career.” Women bathing. Women buying flowers. Women dancing. Women reading. Women rowing a boat. Women talking to each other. Women teaching children to do this or that. Women walking. Women flirting, perhaps considering whether or not to have sex with their avid-looking male partners. Women, women. Almost all of them doing what women have always done and almost of them exciting, good looking, and, judging by their looks, self-conscious and intelligent.
...
Young men used to leave school so they could earn their keep. Young women of good family had the privilege of studying so they could make eligible brides for successful young men. Or else, should they fail to catch one, earn their livelihood by teaching. Before finally going on pension my grandfather spent most of his time in the office or at the stock exchange where, to quote his memoirs, there was no end to “worry and stress.” His wife, by contrast, never worked outside the home. Instead she oversaw the household with an iron hand, (she had help, of course) and raised six children. At one point she had sufficient leisure to continue her studies. Eventually she took an MA. At home she had the upper hand in everything.

Though she could easily have afforded it, she never had a “room of her own.” She did not need one. With my grandfather at work and the children spending much of the day in kindergarten or at school, the entire house was at her disposal. Everything in it was hers. 

I’m thinking of the women I know who are artistic. And how it does not pay the bills. How they have to do other work to make ends meet. I think they are profoundly unemancipated in this time, and the old rules of children, kitchen and church were more freeing than the modern micro-regulation of the social Justice State. I’m quite aware that these women are better artists, better musicians than I am: but for me such things are a relief from the worry and stress of work. I pay my bills doing other things.

And Christ dealt with the worries of a Gentile mother and her child, and let another Gentile speak. Let the SJW be offended by his speech. But they are ephemeral. We would be better to do good, and let the offense grow and blossom like a thousand flowers.