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.
When writing about giving God the glory and how we are but instruments of God’s grace in the world, I recalled a quote by Mother Teresa having to do with being God’s pencil. Wanting to quote it correctly, I Googled it. Along with the quote, I came across several versions of a parable about a pencil. Of unknown origin, it has been around for more than twenty years. Nevertheless, the parable was new to me and this is my version of “The Parable of the Pencil.”
I suspect we would prefer a eulogy that shines a light on our victories and accomplishments but the man known as “the father of modern missions” chose otherwise. When William Carey [1762-1834] was asked what text he wanted for his funeral sermon, he chose today’s verse. The humble man wanted to shine a light on God’s lovingkindness and great compassion rather than his personal accomplishments.
Along the road to the Serengeti, somewhere near the Olduvai Gorge in Tanzania, is a crescent-shaped sand dune. Measuring about 30-feet in height and 328-feet long along its curves, it is known as the Shifting Sands. Rich in iron and highly magnetized, the sand sticks to itself when tossed in the air. When the wind blows, its particles fall back on the dune rather than get carried away by the breeze. The dune, however, is constantly on the move as the prevailing winds slowly move the entire thing across the land. Moving about 50-feet a year, it’s believed that the Shifting Sands have been traveling the savannah for more than three thousand years, sometimes changing both shape and direction. Of course, the dune moves so gradually that you don’t see its motion. Nevertheless, stakes in the ground indicate its location in previous years.
I imagine the shepherds probably were more concerned with making it through the night warm, safe, and without losing any sheep than they were with the eventual arrival of the promised Messiah. They certainly never expected an angel to appear to announce His birth nor did they anticipate a host of angels singing God’s praises. Nevertheless, it was shepherds who received the good news that a child was born—a child who would be their Savior, Messiah, and Lord.
Devotions of the Heart 