Strength In Struggle: Her Strength
Her Strength
Here in Syria, however, Jesus and his band are on alien soil, no longer surrounded by monotheistic Jews who automatically connect morality with deity. Tyre was a pagan city; its citizens would only understand this healer as one of many itinerant wonder-workers, more on the order of a magician than a holy man. For the Greeks, and indeed for most of the Middle Eastern peoples, healing had no necessary connection to holiness. Exorcism in particular was the special province of magicians. In their eyes, supernatural powers could only be manipulated by sorcerers adept in occult skills.
Beyond Galilee lay Syria, a stretch of coastland settled in past ages by the seafaring Phoenicians. To this region, homeland of Israel’s ancient enemies, Jesus retreats with his disciples. They have recently been under attack from the Pharisees for failing to observe certain hand-washing rituals. Needing a break from these extended and heated controversies, they find a safe haven in the coastal city of Tyre.
Because Jesus hopes to remain incognito while there, he stays indoors so that he won’t be recognized and thus draw the crowds that inevitably congregate around him. Nevertheless, a native of the region, a Greek woman, discovers his presence in the community and slips into the house. She’s not there to get his autograph though. She has an urgent request: A demon possesses her daughter and she wants Jesus to get rid of it.
Many layers of history and culture lie beneath this apparently heartless reply. Mark’s description of the woman emphasizes that she is Greek both by birth and religion. Yet she is not the first non-Jew to beg for Jesus’ help. Already he has healed the Roman centurion’s slave. But that was back in the Jewish province of Galilee, and the centurion, recognizing his delicate position as an outsider, demonstrated a sensitivity to Jewish religious tradition by forbearing to ask Jesus to come to his Gentile home.
As supplicants often did, she falls at his feet to make her appeal. Jesus ignores her.
This response—or, as Matthew records the story, failure to respond—shocks us. Nowhere else in the Gospels does Jesus display such seeming indifference and lack of compassion toward a petitioner. The Jesus we know and love never turns anyone away. Yet this woman he ignores. Nevertheless, she continues to cry out to him to have mercy and heal her daughter. Such a ruckus does she raise that the disciples, realizing her shouts will soon draw a crowd, plead with Jesus to get rid of her, send her away, do something to shut her up.
To that end, Jesus turns to her and delivers the cruelest words recorded as coming from his mouth. “I’m not here on your account,” he tells her. “I’m here to help my own people who are in bad shape. They’re lost and wandering. I can’t waste my time and energy on you. That would be like taking food out of the children’s mouth and giving it to the puppies under the table.” (The Greek word is not “dogs” but “puppies,” the only softened note in this harsh refusal.)
Jesus was telling the woman that His first priority in being there was to instruct His disciples. It is not appropriate to interrupt a family meal to give the dogs food from the table. So it was not appropriate for Him to interrupt His ministry to His disciples to give His services to her, a Gentile. But Jesus’ reluctance to help stimulated her faith.
Earlier in Matthew, Jesus has already told those who wanted to see him put on a magic show that exorcising demons from people of such shallow understanding does no good. Even if the first unclean spirit leaves them, they will soon be re-infested sevenfold.
The woman remains insistent, however. Instead of leaving in a huff at the unflattering comparison Jesus has just made, she assures him that she takes his point about feeding children before puppies. “True enough,” she agrees, “yet even the puppies are allowed to scavenge the crumbs that fall from the table.”
This retort acknowledges that there is indeed an essential difference between the religion of pagans and that of Jews. Something more than cultural diversity is at stake. Pagan understanding of supernatural power is stunted and incomplete. Magic is not the same as miracle. Connecting wholeness and holiness is crucial. Her reply shows Jesus that she perceives a difference between her own background of occultism and his tradition of righteousness. Nevertheless, she is willing to be fed, if only by the crumbs of that tradition, knowing that her people’s gods offer her neither healing nor protection. With great humility, she acknowledges her position as an outsider, someone who does not fully understand, a person to whom, after a certain amount of religious instruction, the Jews might award the title “God-fearer”—though they would never admit her to the inner court of their temple.
At that point, Jesus eagerly responds to her request. He does not wait till her understanding is full and complete—after all, his own inner circle frequently demonstrate their deplorable ignorance about his mission. Her simple confession that she’d rather feed on the crumbs of reality than starve on illusions is enough for Jesus. In fact, it carries sufficient weight for him to declare her faith great.
This retort acknowledges that there is indeed an essential difference between the religion of pagans and that of Jews. Something more than cultural diversity is at stake. Pagan understanding of supernatural power is stunted and incomplete. Magic is not the same as miracle. Connecting wholeness and holiness is crucial. Her reply shows Jesus that she perceives a difference between her own background of occultism and his tradition of righteousness. Nevertheless, she is willing to be fed, if only by the crumbs of that tradition, knowing that her people’s gods offer her neither healing nor protection. With great humility, she acknowledges her position as an outsider
William Gladstone, in announcing the death of Princess Alice to the House of Commons, told a touching story. The little daughter of the Princess was seriously ill with diphtheria. The doctors told the Princess not to kiss her little daughter and endanger her life by breathing the child’s breath.
Once when the child was struggling to breathe, the mother, forgetting herself entirely, took the little one into her arms to keep her from choking to death. Gasping and struggling for her life, the child said, “Mamma, kiss me!” Without thinking of herself, the mother tenderly kissed her daughter. She got diphteria and some days thereafter she went to be with the Lord.