The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, the love of God, and the fellowship of the Holy Spirit be with you all. Amen.
We’re in chapter 15 of Matthew. We’ve skipped over the first half of the chapter, in which Jesus has yet another face-off with the Pharisees over obedience to the law. His disciples had failed to wash their hands before eating bread, and the Pharisees called Jesus out on the fact that he and his disciples have no regard for the law at all. Jesus in reply pointed out that as part of their traditions they renounce and walk away from their parents, thus violating the Fourth Commandment, pointing to them as the people who actually break the real commandments of the Lord God, Yahweh Elohim.
After He bested the Pharisees in that theological debate once again, Jesus and His disciples withdrew to the region of Tyre and Sidon, seaside villages on the northeast side of the Mediterranean Sea. As Jesus and the disciples were passing through, a Canaanite woman saw Jesus from a distance and figured out who He was. She began crying out, saying, “Have mercy on me, O Lord, Son of David; my daughter is severely oppressed by a demon.”
Now, the Canaanites were the people who lived in the Promised Land before God sent the Hebrew nation into the land to take it over, because they were an idolatrous people who sacrificed their children to their gods. God ordered the Israelites to wipe out the nation of the Canaanites. The Israelites went to war, but they quickly grew weary of it and didn’t finish the job. So there in the land, just north of Galilee, was a Canaanite stronghold. They were enemies of the Israelites, though not at war; it was much more like a cold war that had existed for about 1,400 years before Jesus showed up.
So when the Canaanite woman cries out to Jesus, she does so knowing she has no standing in the Hebrew Israelite community. She has no right or place to ask a rabbi, let alone the Son of David, the Son of God, for anything. She’s not entitled to anything. She’s literally a beggar before the Son of God, Jesus Christ. Yet she approaches Jesus without hesitation and with a very big ask: “Have mercy on me, O Lord, Son of David.”
The Canaanite comes to Jesus calling Him by His two Old Testament titles: Lord and Son of David. When she does this, she shows she understands something. Her use of the two titles indicates that she knows exactly who Jesus is, and her request indicates that she knows exactly what He, as the Son of David, the Son of God, can do. The woman must have known something about the prophecies of the Messiah in the Old Testament. She knew something of the promises, and this knowledge produced true Christian faith. She was looking for the coming Messiah; she recognized Jesus as the one fulfilling those prophecies. She’d heard the stories about Jesus, what He was preaching and teaching and doing. She heard about His healings and His miracles and His acts of mercy, and she believed. That faith gave her courage to approach Jesus in full confidence that He would hear her petition.
Now, throughout the four Gospels, Jesus has no trouble responding to anybody. To every challenge of the Pharisees and Sadducees and priests, Jesus never once shunned them; He engaged every single one of them in a match of theological wits, in which they lost each and every time. When He looked over the multitudes, He had compassion on them; He fed them, taught them, and healed them. He ate dinner with the dregs of society. He went to great lengths to make sure petitions were answered and needs were met, to the point where He often had to retreat and go away in silence because He was so exhausted.
But now, in the region of Tyre and Sidon, when a Canaanite woman comes begging, Jesus doesn’t give her the time of day. He doesn’t respond or acknowledge her existence at all. It looks as if He’s ignoring her, with intent. And He had intent. His response in the moment was like our response when we pull up in our cars to one of those intersections where a beggar stands just feet away from our window, holding a sign. She’s there, but she’s not there. She needs, but she doesn’t matter. But the Canaanite woman has a faith that simply won’t give up. She is so persistent, and so confident, that Jesus and His disciples get rather annoyed by her. The disciples begin to annoy Jesus as well; they beg Him, “Send her away, for she is crying out after us.”
Jesus tells her that He was sent into the world in order to reclaim and redeem the lost sheep of Israel, that is, of the Israelites, not Canaanites, not those people who once worshiped idols and sacrificed their children. They were the Lord God’s adopted nation, and the Canaanites by and large had long ago rejected the Lord God, Yahweh Elohim, of the Old Testament. Jesus didn’t answer the woman’s request because she wasn’t of the house of Israel. She’s a Gentile, and she belongs to a people hostile to the Israelites and to their God. At least, that’s what she appeared to be. Although appearances can be deceptive, and in this case it truly was.
Jesus’ non-response had the desired effect. The woman comes closer to Him and throws herself at His feet, which is an act of worship, and begs Him all the more: “Lord, help me.” You’d think, given Jesus’ heart of compassion, the simple plea “help me” would do the trick. Instead, Jesus says something even more offensive to the woman. Her plea “Lord, help me” is met with Jesus’ answer: “It is not right to take the children’s bread and throw it to the dogs.”
The woman and her people are likened unto the household dog. The woman’s first petition was met with silence, her second with outright rejection, her third with the harshest rebuke. In the Old Testament, to be compared to a dog, or to call one a dog, was to imply they were of the very lowest status. The reason for the negative view of dogs is that most dogs were wild and ran in packs, and they ate anything they could get. Even the family dog didn’t enjoy the beloved place in a family that dogs have today. In the New Testament, calling a human a dog means that the person was evil: “Look out for the dogs, look out for the evildoers, look out for those who mutilate the flesh,” Paul writes in Philippians 3:2. Or in Revelation: “Outside are the dogs and sorcerers and the sexually immoral and murderers and idolaters, and everyone who loves and practices falsehood.” So when Jesus refers to her and her people as dogs, it is about as offensive as one can get.
Martin Luther said that Jesus wasn’t being heartless; rather, He was leading the woman to counter His words with words of faith. And she does exactly that. She confesses that Jesus is right. She isn’t an Israelite. She’s not a member of the chosen people. She is a person of very low estate. She is unworthy of the miracle for which she asks. “It is not right to take the children’s bread and throw it to the dogs.” And she said, “Yes, Lord, yet even the dogs eat the crumbs that fall from their masters’ table.”
She knows her place. She knows that the best she can hope for is crumbs from the Master’s table. One of the true byproducts of true Christian faith is humility, and today that is such a rare thing to find, even in the church. Matthew 18:4: “Whoever humbles himself like this child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven.”
The Canaanite woman admits a profound truth. She’s not a sheep of the house of Israel; she’s a Gentile dog. She owns the title of dog, but now she uses the title against Jesus Himself. As Luther says, she takes Jesus captive in His own words. Here’s what Luther wrote: “The woman’s faith takes Jesus captive in His word, when He is angry, and makes out of His cruel words a comforting inversion. ‘You say,’ the woman responds, ‘that I am a dog. Let it be. I will gladly be a dog. Now give me the consideration you give a dog.’ Thus she catches Christ with His own words, and He, Christ, is happy to be caught. ‘Very well,’ she says, ‘if I’m a dog, I ask no more than a dog’s rights. I am not a child of the seed of Abraham. But You are a rich Lord of all and set a lavish table. Give Your children the bread and the place at the table; I do not wish for that. Let me merely, like a dog, pick up the crumbs under the table. Allow me that which children don’t need nor ever miss, the crumbs, and I will be contented with that.’ So she catches Christ the Lord in His own words, and with that wins not only the right of a dog, but also the right of a child.”
Now then, where will our dear Jesus go? He let Himself be made captive, and now He must comply. Be sure of this: that is what He most deeply desired all along. The One who first greeted her in silence, in indifference, and apparently outright rejection, now says of the Gentile woman, “O woman, great is your faith! Be it done for you as you desire.” And her daughter was healed.
The woman came not claiming anything as her right, but simply threw herself on the mercy of the Lord Jesus Christ. So it ought to be for each and every one of us. She was willing to be a dog under the table. That’s where the blessings are. In Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount: blessed are the poor in spirit, blessed are those who hunger, and here, blessed are those who come as beggars, even dogs, to the mercy seat of the Lord.
The Canaanite woman didn’t give up when Jesus and the disciples placed obstacles in her way. She persevered. And again Luther: with the rights of a dog, she gains the rights of a child. If only we had the skill to catch God in His own judgments and His own words! If only you and I had the quick wit and the knowledge to take Jesus at His words for us. “Yes, Lord, it’s true, I’m a sinner and not worthy of Your grace. I truly deserve temporal and eternal punishment. But You have promised forgiveness of sins, and You did not come to call the righteous, but You came to call sinners, that is, people like me, to repentance.” Behold, then Christ must remain true to His own words and promises, and Christ must have mercy on you.
True Christian faith is persistent. It doesn’t give up. It remains pleasantly persistent. It believes when all circumstance gives it reason not to believe. Hebrews 11:1: “Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen.” Faith doesn’t ask for things for itself; instead, it petitions the Lord on behalf of others. “Be it done for you as you desire,” Jesus says to the woman. He has authority over sin, death, and even the devil himself. With this sentence He casts out the demon and reclaims the Canaanite woman and her daughter as His very own, and He does so with His words.
Moved by His mercy, the Son of God suffered the ravages of sin. When He was nailed to the cross, He Himself suffered the silence of God His Father. In the wilderness temptations, in the prayer of the Garden of Gethsemane, when He said, “Father, if it be Your will, let this cup pass from me,” the answer was silence. The cup was not going to pass Him by. When He was nailed to the cross and He said, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me,” He too was met with stubborn silence. But God vindicated His Son by raising Him up on the third day from the dead, and He has shown His mercy in the greatest possible way in the forgiveness of your sins. He delivers you from the power of the devil and gives you the sure and certain hope of everlasting life.
You’ve been born of the same faith as that Canaanite woman. You have been made from a dog into a child at the table. It is the same persistent, confident faith that lived in her that lives in you. For once you were a dog, but now you are a child of the heavenly Father. Your sins are forgiven, and your faith persists. Amen.
May the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, keep your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. Amen.