Her little girl was possessed by an evil spirit, and she begged him to cast out the demon from her daughter. Since she was a Gentile, born in Syrian Phoenicia, Jesus told her, “First I should feed the children—my own family, the Jews. It isn’t right to take food from the children and throw it to the dogs.” [Mark 7:25b-27 (NLT)]
Years ago, I often cared for my granddaughter while also watching my son’s dog. The grand in her highchair would push her food around the tray while trying to feed herself. Since fine motor skills are lacking in toddlers, a fair amount of whatever she was eating ended up on the floor. Whatever my grand didn’t get in her mouth became a feast for the dog waiting patiently beneath her for the bits and pieces that fell. When she was a bit older, I think she deliberately dropped a few tidbits for her canine friend.
I think of my grand and the dog whenever I read Matthew or Mark’s account of Jesus and the mother of the demon-possessed girl. Jesus was in the pagan territory of Tyre and Sidon when a Syrophoenician woman sought Him out. Falling at Jesus’ feet, she begged Him to cast out the evil spirit that possessed her daughter.
When this Gentile woman begged Jesus to help her, He gave her an odd and what seems a very un-Jesuslike answer that equated her with a dog! There are, however, two Greek words usually translated as dog. The first, kuón, is derogatory and referred to a loose or scavenging dog—something universally despised in ancient times. A metaphor for someone of impure mind, Pharisees would use it when referring to Gentiles. Jesus used kuón for the dogs who licked the sores of poor Lazarus and when speaking of not giving dogs what was holy. Paul used kuón for Judaizers and Peter when repeating a proverb about dogs returning to their vomit. Kuón, however, is not the word Jesus used with this woman; He used the word kunarion. Also translated as dog, rather than a feral mongrel, kunarion referred to a little dog, a puppy, or a house dog like my son’s. Nevertheless, a dog is a dog and whether Jesus called her a mangy stray or a puppy, His answer seems harsh. Where was His compassion and love?
As unfeeling as it seems, Jesus’ response was correct. Parents would never take food from their children’s mouths and then throw it to the dogs (even if they were pedigree Shih Tzus or Poodles). I never would have fed the dog first and given my grand whatever was left in the dog bowl. My priority was feeding my granddaughter and Jesus’ priority was giving his message to the Jews; Israel took precedence before any Gentile nation. As God’s covenant people, the Jewish people had a position of privilege unknown to Gentiles. Jesus wasn’t insulting the woman. By comparing Israel’s privileged position to that of children and the Gentile’s lack of privilege to that of house dogs, Jesus simply was making a theological point.
The woman, however, didn’t take offense at His words. Instead, she humbly agreed with Him. Addressing Jesus as “Lord,” she reminded Him that even puppies are allowed to catch the crumbs that fall from the table around children. After all, while the children get fed first, the master remains responsible for feeding all in His household—both children and dogs! She knew that even the smallest crumb of the Lord’s grace would be enough to heal her daughter and it was.
The exchange between the Syrophoenician woman and Jesus served as a valuable lesson for the disciples—men who soon would be spreading the gospel to both Jews and Gentiles, something prophesized centuries earlier when God told Abraham, “All the families will be blessed through you.” The healing of this woman’s daughter clearly demonstrated that there were no ethnic, national, racial, or gender barriers in God’s kingdom. It was faith, not Jewishness, that would bring the blessings of God to all people.
Jesus told several parables regarding the day of His return. The Parable of the Ten Bridesmaids stresses being ready before that day occurs and the Parable of the Sheep and Goats describes the separation of obedient followers from unbelievers and pretenders in the final judgment. It is between those two that we find the Parable of the Talents about serving our Master until the day of His return.
I read a devotion that suggested substituting our own personal anxieties and concerns for the troubles listed by Paul in Romans 8. Perhaps your version would read: “And I am convinced that nothing can ever separate me from God’s love. Neither old age nor loss of loved ones, neither cancer nor dementia, neither my anxiety about my wayward child nor my reservations about finances—not even the powers of terrorism and hate can separate me from God’s love. No hurricanes, earthquakes, pandemics, or wars—indeed, nothing in all creation will ever be able to separate me from the love of God that is revealed in Christ Jesus our Lord.”
“He’d always looked at religion as a crutch for people who were too scared to do life by themselves,” is the way author Chris Fabry described a character in his book June Bug. That description made me think of Karl Marx’s frequently paraphrased statement: “Religion is the opium of the people.” Sigmund Freud had an equally low opinion of religion and described it as a form of wish fulfillment. Thinking of religion as little more than a man-made coping mechanism for dealing with the harsh realities of life, Fabray’s character, Marx, and Freud disparaged it along with things like crutches and pain relievers.
Mornings, I read a short devotional from Streams in the Desert, a devotional by L.B. Cowman. Compiled between 1918 and 1924 and first published in 1925, it consists of portions of inspirational sermons, tracts, church bulletins, hymns, devotions, and poetry Mrs. Cowman collected through the years. Each day’s reading begins with a portion of Scripture and a recent devotion began with Psalm 4:1: “Thou hast enlarged me when I was in distress.” Because the devotional uses the King James Translation and I usually read the NLT, I didn’t recognize this verse; nevertheless, I had a good idea what it meant.
At first, it seems that the “Parable of the Unforgiving Servant” should be called the “Parable of the Forgiven Servant.” After all, the king forgave his servant’s debt of 10,000 talents—the equivalent of billions of dollars. While the first part of the parable illustrates the value and extravagance of God’s forgiveness, it takes a dark turn in the second part when illustrating the reciprocal nature of His forgiveness—something the servant learned the hard way!
Devotions of the Heart 