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.
The Israelites had been away from Israel for less than two months when they arrived at Rephidim. With no water to drink, the people complained, questioned whether the Lord was with them, criticized Moses, and then threatened him. Fearing for his life, Moses asked God what to do. Instructing him to strike a rock with his staff, God promised that water would come gushing out and, as promised, it did. The miracle was memorialized by the name given to this location, Massah (meaning testing) and Meribah (meaning quarreling.) Unfortunately, that was not the last time the Israelites tested the Lord and quarreled with Moses.
The closest thing we have to a pet is one of those robot vacuums. Nearly as entertaining as a puppy, it needs far less care. As I watch it zip around the house, its movements appear to be entirely random. Sometimes, it starts by spiraling outward in a circle and, other times, it heads directly for the perimeter of the room. When it hits an obstacle, it seems to bounce off in another direction. Nevertheless, my robotic janitor usually knows enough to stop and beep for rescue when it gets into a jam. Unlike it, when I get into predicaments, I usually try to get out of them on my own. Life would be easier if I called on the Lord as readily as that gizmo beeps for me.
I recently met Esha while walking and we occasionally stop to chat. Although the bindi (mark) on her forehead told me she is a Hindu and the cross I wear told her I am Christian, our different faiths have not prevented us from talking about God and our beliefs. My younger son’s marriage brought many Hindus into our extended family and I try to understand this complicated religion.
While walking in the Botanical Gardens, I left my husband on a bench by the lake while I went back to get a few more photos of the plumeria. After getting my last shot, I returned to find him gazing out at the water. When I disturbed his reverie with a touch on the shoulder, he looked up and said, “I was just enjoying Him!” I knew exactly who he meant.
The Apostle Peter tells us that true prophecy isn’t a product of the prophet—prophets only speak God’s revelation. Directed by the Spirit, their words communicate the message the Lord wants sent. Sometimes, however, prophecy is difficult to understand and interpretations of Revelation go from one extreme to the other. Some, like that priest in Monday’s devotion, dismiss it as completely symbolic. To them, Revelation is an allegory about the conflict between good and evil with good winning in the end. On the other extreme, we find obscure theories, convoluted correlations, and implausible explanations of every symbol and metaphor along with sensationalism and unchecked speculation connecting Revelation to current events.
Devotions of the Heart 