Lectionary Gospel reading: Matthew 15:21-28
Again
and again, Matthew’s Gospel presents us with a stark contrast between those who
recognise Jesus and those who reject Jesus, between those who submit their
lives to him and those who set their lives against him. Here is one presented
as being sent by God, by the god of the Jewish people, to call them back to
living faithfully as a chosen people, the descendants of Abraham through whom
all peoples will be blessed. And what we see is that those with power and
influence, from Herod the Great at the time of Jesus’ birth to the Pharisees
and Sadducees throughout his years of activity, seek to kill him, to silence
him; while most unexpected people recognise him as the one sent by God, with
authority. Magi travel from the east, from the empires who had carried Jesus’
ancestors off into exile, to pay homage. A Roman centurion, official of an
occupying empire, appeals to Jesus to heal his servant. Two demoniacs in
Gentile territory recognise him as Son of God. Crowds in Gentile territory
bring their sick from across the whole region to be healed. And here in chapter
15, a Canaanite woman appeals to Jesus to deliver her daughter of demonic
torment.
And
so we find ourselves confronted by this strange exchange:
‘But
she came and knelt before him, saying, “Lord, help me.” He answered, “It is not
fair to take the children’s food and throw it to the dogs.” She said, “Yes,
Lord, yet even the dogs eat the crumbs that fall from their masters’ table.”
Then Jesus answered her, “Woman, great is your faith! Let it be done to you as
you wish.” And her daughter was healed instantly.’
What
is going on here? I would suggest that Jesus is engaging this woman, and his
disciples, in active learning. And there are four things we might also reflect
on: what is, or is not, fair; who are the children; the food of those children;
and who are the dogs.
First,
what is or is not fair. The word Jesus uses here (kalos) conveys the
sense of being beautiful, praiseworthy, of good that inspires others to do
good. And he sets out the proposition that it isn’t praiseworthy or inspiring
to give the children’s food to the dogs. It is an observation in search of a
response.
Second,
who are the children? The word Jesus uses here (teknon) refers to little
children, dependent children, and is used to convey anyone—of any age—who lives
in utter dependence on God. Not, automatically, every descendent of Abraham.
Third,
the food of those children. The word Jesus uses here (artos) refers to
bread, but conveys the sense of God’s provision for his dependent people. And
crucially in the biblical narrative, God’s provision—whether manna in the
wilderness or the feeding of 5,000 families having started with only five small
loaves and two fish—God’s provision never runs short; there is always enough
for everyone to eat and be satisfied, with excess left over.
Fourth,
who are the dogs. The word Jesus uses here (kunarion) refers to a puppy,
that is a dependent dog, in parallel with the dependent children. But a dog,
nonetheless. And whereas the British consider themselves to be a nation of dog
lovers, for whom there is little that is more adorable than a litter of
puppies, for the Israelites dogs have an unhappy connotation. In three of the
Psalms, David uses the imagery of a pack of dogs to describe those who attack
him without cause, his enemies. But in the following generations this image is
subverted, with dogs coming to symbolise agents of divine judgement. In
particular, in the histories of successive idolatrous dynasties recorded in 1
Kings & 2 Kings, prophets declare that those who put their hope
in wicked kings will die and their bodies be eaten by dogs, while in the very place
of their wickedness the dogs will lick the blood of the wicked rulers. In
Matthew’s Gospel, the Pharisees and Sadducees harass Jesus as the dogs harassed
king David. But, also in Matthew’s Gospel, it is the Pharisees and Sadducees
who are leading the people astray, and the Gentile dogs—the centurion, this
woman—whose dependence on Jesus passes divine judgement on God’s own unfaithful
people. Just like the parables, this account is working at multiple levels.
What,
then, do we make of this contention that “It is not fair to take the children’s
food and throw it to the dogs”? The Canaanite woman rejects it, saying, yes, it
is fair: there is enough. Jesus agrees.
On
social media and in the news in recent days we have witnessed, yet again, the
demonisation of desperate asylum seekers trying to cross the Channel in flimsy
dinghies. They are, apparently, an invading army who are over-running us. It is
not praiseworthy that we should have any empathy for their plight. It is not
praiseworthy to suggest we might share our resources with them, because there
is not enough to go round, and charity begins at home. We need to think about
our own families first, for a change.
What
would Jesus say in response to such a stance? In particular, what would Jesus
say to those in this nation who call themselves Christian, who might agree with
such nationalism?
No,
you will not be praised for having empathy for asylum seekers. You will be
unlikely to inspire too many others to join you. But, where do you want to invest
your hope? With the rich, who warn that the immigrants want to steal your
crumbs, while keeping the bread for themselves while others queue at food
banks? Or with those who are utterly dependent on God’s faithful provision?
With the powerful, who warn that immigrant whelps grow up to be vicious curs,
while themselves devouring the flesh of the poor? Or with those sent by God to
pass judgement on our indifference to the plight of our fellow humans? Will we
share our bread, extend the bounds of God’s mercy? Will we live as those sent
by God to preserve life, in a world in prolonged crisis?
Matthew’s
Gospel presents us with a stark contrast between those who recognise Jesus and those
who reject Jesus, between those who submit their lives to him and those who set
their lives against him. Which choice will we make today?
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