Matthew 15.21-28

Halfway through his ministry, Jesus decided to call a woman a dog.
 
Why, you ask?  Very simple.  In order to save her.
 
Let me explain (with a little artistic license).  Exhausted with the Jews, Jesus decided it best to take a vacation to the beaches of Tyre and Sidon for some rest.  It was difficult work, being the savior of the world, not to mention dealing with doubtful disciples, hungry crowds, snotty Pharisees and megalomaniacal kings.  As far as he was concerned, Judea and Galilee could use a timeout from his ministry and teaching.  They weren’t exactly warming up to his ideas anyway.
 
So Jesus took a trip north with his disciples along the eastern edge of the Mediterranean Sea, taking in the foreign culture as he went, enjoying the local fare and taking advantage of a much needed break from his celebrity.  He found it far easier to move around in this foreign country, for no one knew him.  None were aware of his controversial teaching or his mission.  He was - as much as he could be, at least - anonymous.
 
That is, until a young woman’s voice lifted above the hum of the crowd and caught Jesus’ attention.  He noticed it at once, for the voice seemed pinched.  Desperate, almost.  The woman called to him from the far end of a marketplace and grew louder as she approached, pushing vendors and buyers aside in haste.
 
She was a haggard woman, much older in her appearance than Jesus could have guessed from her voice.  Black circles ringed her eyes.  A few strands of hair, visible even in the shadow of the hood of her cloak, had started to grey.  To Jesus, she seemed waifish and lost.  As if she didn’t have a home or a hope in the world.
 
The voice called out to him again and again with titles that surprised even Jesus.  “Lord!  Son of David!  Have mercy on me!  My daughter suffers from a demon!  Lord!  Son of David!  Have mercy on me!”
 
Jesus was taken aback.  Few in Judea or Galilee had dared call him Lord.  Even less would risk calling him Son of David.  She might as well have called him the King of the Jews.  He thought it wise to say nothing.  It would be best to maintain his anonymity.  After all, she did not understand what she was asking.  And besides, his disciples had dealt with crowds of panicked women before.  They could certainly handle this one.
 
They continued through the marketplace, but the woman followed them, pleading all the way.  Soon, the situation turned into a full-blown scene.  Every eye in the marketplace was fixated on Jesus and his disciples and the persistent woman following after them.  The disciples felt the eyes and grew uncomfortable.  They looked to their rabbi for direction, but Jesus seemed lost in his thoughts.  They thought it best not to bother him.
 
Some among the disciples stopped in front of the woman, barring her way to Jesus as he continued through the marketplace.  “Leave him alone,” they said to her.  “Go home.  If he wanted to help you, then he would have already.”
 
But she would not be denied.  She muscled her way past the wall of bodies as best she could, trying to gain audience with the one man who could help her.  The disciples brushed her off, James and John perhaps a little more forcefully than necessary.  Matthew watched the scene, taking it all in.  Simon Peter started expressing loudly his annoyance with Gentile women, drawing quite a few stares.
 
And Jesus merely walked on, unresponsive.  But the woman would not quit.  She yelled louder and louder between panting breaths, “Lord!  Son of David!  Have mercy on me!  My daughter is oppressed by a demon!  Lord!  Son of David!  Have mercy on me!”
 
By this time, the disciples had had quite enough.  They finally entreated their master, “Rabbi!  Please send her away for she won’t leave us alone!”
 
At that, Jesus stopped and turned toward the woman, eyes boring into her.  She grew silent and did her best to return the stare.  They stood silently like statues in the market place, measuring each other up.  The crowd around grew quiet in anticipation.  Breaking the silence, Jesus said, “I was sent only for the lost sheep of Israel.”
 
And with that, he continued on through the marketplace.  It took the woman a moment to process what he had said.  He was sent only for the lost sheep of Israel.  So he didn’t come for me, she thought.  He cares nothing for me.
 
Then, she visualized her daughter caught in the throes of torture as the demon within her commanded the girl’s body like a cheap puppet.  The horror in her eyes.  The pain in her voice.  She had to do something to save her daughter.
 
She threw herself in front of Jesus, kneeling before him like he was some king.  “Lord, help me!” she cried.
 
Jesus stopped again and looked at her.  His tone unyielding, he said, “It isn’t right to take the children’s food and toss it to the dogs.”  
 
So I’m a dog?! she thought.  Multiple comebacks flashed through her head, but she bit her tongue.  It would do no good to insult him.  She opened her mouth to say something, but no words came out at first.  Jesus and his disciples turned to move, but the woman, in a sudden burst of inspiration, said, “Yes, Lord.  But even dogs eat the crumbs that fall from their master’s table.”
 
Jesus stopped and turned to the woman and he saw in her eyes the very think he had hoped to see in the eyes of his disciples, of the Pharisees and scribes, of the people of Israel.  
 
Faith.
 
Jesus answered her, “Woman, you have great faith!  Your request is granted.”  And with a thought, he healed the woman’s daughter.  
 
The woman left him in peace and returned home.  Jesus’ disciples stared at their teacher.  They thought to themselves, for a person who only came for the lost sheep of Israel, he sure spends a lot of time with Gentiles.  
 
And he knew their hearts.  If only they knew, he thought.  Being an Israelite isn’t a matter of blood or ancestry.  It’s a matter of faith.

Kyle Welch