Preached at Gentle Spirit Christian Church, Atlanta, Ga.
Reading: Matthew 15:10-28

The story of the Canaanite woman is significant on several levels: It represents one of only two times that Jesus leaves Jewish territory — and it signifies the expansion of Jesus’ ministry beyond his obvious rabbinic duty to the people of Israel.

As practitioners of a faith that is the most dominant religion on the planet, it can be too easy for us to miss the true impact of Jesus’ decision to expand his ministry to include Gentiles. It’s a turning point from which there’s no coming back. It cements his status as a heretic in the eyes of the temple authorities, and in a very real sense it sets in motion the chain of events that will lead to his death.

This is a huge moment for the nascent ministry, but we can miss the full meaning of it by getting stuck on that uncomfortable moment when Jesus initially dismisses the woman and appears to compare her to a dog.

We can miss how wonderful it is that the woman goes toe-to-toe with him and turns that comparison on its head, saying that even the dogs get the crumbs from their master’s table. She has come for an audience with Jesus, and she’s not going to be cast aside with a one-liner.

It’s at that moment that Jesus recognizes what he’s dealing with and declares how great her faith is and that her daughter is healed.

So what is actually happening in this interaction?

Part of the answer lies in understanding what the Gospel account is communicating to us about the kind of dog Jesus is referring to. In the original Greek, the word choice is kunarion, which to Matthew’s intended audience would have sounded like “puppy” and conveyed a sense of affection, as you’d have for a pet.

This is an altogether different word than kuon, which is used elsewhere in the Bible (for example, in Philippians and Revelation) to convey a sense of uncleanness or unspirituality among evildoers — in other words, people who are more like wild dogs than family pets.

So when Jesus retorts to the woman, “It is not good to take the children’s bread and throw it to the dogs,” what is really being communicated? Is he saying that ministering to her would be the equivalent of throwing good food out into the streets for wild dogs to consume?

Or is he saying that it’s important for the children to be fed first, before the beloved family pets?

It’s the latter, of course.

And by drawing this comparison, is he really saying the Good News isn’t meant for Gentiles? That the Bread of Life is only for Jews?

Or rather, is he saying something more along the lines of: “Hey, not right now. I’ve got my work cut out for me with the people of Israel, then I can broaden my focus.”

OR is he totally playing it like a volleyball setter, getting the ball in position for the woman to spike it across the net for the disciples to witness?

I like to think it’s both of the last two at the same time. I love that Jesus sets up this feisty woman to minister to him in front of everyone. I also love how it’s tied to the imagery of what it means to have a dog in the family. And that’s the message I’d like to bring to you today.

Soap and butter

Before we go any further, I’d like to take a step back into the first part of today’s Gospel reading and reflect on what Jesus is setting up at this point in his ministry before they venture into Phoenicia, where he encounters the Canaanite woman.

I love how Matthew prefaces this story of a woman going toe-to-toe with Jesus — in what I think of as a kind of ancient-times rap battle — with a scene where Jesus talks about the power of words. Which he ties to some very visceral imagery not only of the act of eating, but even of what happens to the food after that.

Being the teacher and revolutionary that he is, Jesus is pointing out the untapped power of something people use every day: Their mouths. And then he ties that to the heart, which guides not just the mouth, but every action of the body.

Mouth imagery is so fundamental to human existence that it resonates for us even today.

When you were a kid, did you ever have someone say, “I’m going to wash your mouth out with soap!”

Who knew that ages-old practice had its roots in the Bible, but why not? It makes complete sense.

We see Jesus introducing the concept here as he addresses a crowd of people in his native Israel, where he’s been preaching in the towns around the Sea of Galilee.

His audience is faithful Jews who at this point are doing their level best to abide by the 647-odd laws that govern their lives — many of them concerning purity and the rituals around maintaining that purity. It’s probably a daily struggle and a source of great stress.

Jesus is fresh from a confrontation [prior to today’s Gospel reading] with a delegation of Pharisees and religion scholars who have traveled from Jerusalem — a journey of at least a few days on foot — to basically tell him the business.

They’ve come with their own version of a big bar of soap, thinking they’re going to wash some of these heretical teachings they’ve been hearing about out of Jesus’ mouth — and those of the disciples.

If you could pick a group of folks in that time who probably thought butter wouldn’t melt in their mouths, these were them.

And in true fashion, Jesus snatches that figurative bar of soap and throws it back at them. He calls them out on their hypocrisy — and to boot, he ties it back to their need for power and control.

Which, let’s be honest, is what motivated them to hoof it to the shores of Galilee to see what the heck was going on. They were worried about losing their grip.

Instead, Jesus sends them packing, having replaced the taste of unmelted butter in their mouths with that of soap.

A rap battle

With the Pharisees headed back to Jerusalem incensed at the insolence of this rural preacher, Jesus then heads to Tyre and Sidon, important towns in Phoenicia, where he engages in what I like to think of as a rap battle.

I’m choosing that imagery for a couple of reasons. One is that Jesus really loved wordplay. He used it to great effect as a tool of his ministry, defying expectations and easy answers, and turning convention upside-down.

He used words to leave people scratching their heads — including the disciples, who we see even in today’s Gospel reading asking for a post-game explainer of what Jesus has just said to the religious authorities.

The Gospels also give us terrific examples of Jesus’ verbal deftness at avoiding the traps that were often laid for him by accusers and inquisitioners. For instance, when Pontius Pilate asks him if he’s the King of the Jews, Mark 15 depicts his response as simply: “If you say so.”

Not only that, but there are layers of meaning waiting for us in the Gospels when we consider who is in the audience when Jesus is speaking. We get lots of opportunities to do that in today’s reading alone, where we see Jesus in front of different audiences and in different places:

• The religious leaders who came to see him in Galilee (a showdown)
• The crowd he addresses shortly afterward (a show-stopper)
• The post-game huddle with the disciples (real talk)
• The Canaanite woman in Phoenicia (a rap battle)

I like looking at it this way because to me there’s a very cool interaction happening between Jesus and the Canaanite woman that can get lost in translation if we focus too hard on Jesus’ initial rejection of her.

When we find ourselves uncomfortable with that rejection, I chalk it up to our own internal stress over trying to understand the human Jesus versus the divine one. Because we like to equate divinity with perfection, it can be disconcerting to see an instance where Jesus seems to have basically had a bad day. Or been off-message. Or just caught off-guard.

Instead, I like to think that Jesus was always focused on the bigger picture. On the long game. On the metamessage.

Also, I try to give the Gospel writers credit for having a point of view — and also for having to practice a real economy of words due to the effort and expense involved in committing them to paper, which in their time was extremely precious compared to now. I remind myself that in their time, a lot of meaning lived in the margins, and the people of their time were accustomed to that.

So what’s living in the margins of this particular verbal repartee? A ton.

For starters, Jesus is rolling up into basically gang territory. Now that he’s made it official for the religious authorities in his own society that he’s really not interested in living under their thumb, he’s venturing into (essentially unclean and unworthy) foreign lands and is about to step up his game by demonstrating that his message isn’t just for Jews — it’s actually for the whole world.

But how exactly do you do that? Do you just roll in, 13 deep, and start telling folks that you’re here to convert them? And tell them to tell their folks? Is that really the way to set it off?

Also, are you really rolling 13 deep if it’s going to be news to your crew that this message that they may have thought was only for Jews was actually for… the whole world?

What you need is a teachable moment.

Cue the Canaanite woman. She’s perfect for the role, and she goes toe-to-toe with the Master in a bit of wordplay that ends up being necessary theater — for whom? The disciples.

With that as the backdrop, I’ll replay the dialogue for you, but with a bit of flair.

From there Jesus took a trip to Tyre and Sidon. They had hardly arrived when a Canaanite woman came down from the hills and pleaded, “Mercy, Master, Son of David! My daughter is cruelly afflicted by an evil spirit.”

Jesus ignored her. The disciples came and complained, “We can’t even right now with this lady. Seriously, what is her deal? Can you please give her the stiff-arm so we can keep rollin?”

Jesus refused, telling them, “I’ve got 99 problems right now, and this woman ain’t one of ‘em.”

Then the woman came back to Jesus, dropped to her knees, and begged. “Master, help me.”

He said, “Lady, I don’t know you like that. I don’t even feed my puppy before I feed my kids.”

She was quick: “You’re right, Master, but I bet even your puppy gets to have a bite of steak straight off the grill.”

Jesus gave in. “Woman, your game is outta sight! Alright I’m gonna do it, just this once. In fact, it’s already done.” Right then her daughter became well.

In this scene, everyone plays their part.

Jesus plays the “all in due time” card.

The disciples can’t be bothered at all.

And the woman challenges them all as if to say, “But if not now, then when exactly?”

And we see Jesus get his head turned (theatrically): The time is now. The message is for everyone. They’re already starting to believe. The ministry has its own momentum.

A dog’s life

Now that we know for sure that the dog reference in today’s reading is more about intimacy than rejection, let’s look at that dog imagery with a more expansive lens.

It’s really perfect for this particular teachable moment in the Gospel, because what other creature best embodies the ability to love unconditionally no matter what the circumstances actually are?

Dogs, you see, have faith. They have faith in our basic goodness.

What if we could be more like them?

Here are some musings by a writer named Lauren Salkin, from her blog on Medium.

Dogs don’t get ensnared in life’s weedy distractions. They embrace every moment; they don’t get stuck in a funk from opportunities missed. They focus on food and fun and frivolous dog stuff.

Dogs don’t worry about things that might not happen. They don’t get ulcers or hangovers or their panties in bunches. They chill under tables or on top of chairs to capture a moment or sniff for adventure.

Dogs don’t get vexed by tailgating drivers, serial line cutters or incessant gripers.

Dogs spend their time doing doggy things: wrestling, snuggling, exploring and absorbing. They catch a scent and savor it or chase it. They bark at crows or other dogs, but mostly they are amenable to each another. A nose-to-nose or nose-to-butt meetup is a conversation starter.

A dog’s politics isn’t complicated or hurtful. They never denigrate you for your point of view. They have a pack dog mentality, but their packs aren’t PACs.

Dogs relish every moment. They dig for the thrill of a dig as much as what they hope to find at the end of it.

Humans dig for what they think they’ll get out of it, then end up in a deep hole of nothing, digging deeper and deeper in inconsolable regret.

Dogs don’t get stuck on worrisome stuff that keeps them from enjoying their day. If a dog finds something in the dirt, it sniffs it and moves on, while a human obsesses over it.

Here are some more, by contributor JThreeNMe on the Today Show Parenting blog:

If people had hearts like dogs:
We would be better humans.
We would relax more.
We would take up space without guilt.
We would love “our people” unconditionally.
We would find and fill empty spaces in rooms and hearts.
We would offer up nonjudgmental support.
We would lift people’s spirits at every opportunity.
We would goof-off more often.
We would would rock at silent devoted companionship.
We would forgive human error immediately.
We would be genuinely optimistic.
We would love others, more than ourselves.

There’s also this item, from The New York Times, about a study conducted in the U.K. about 4 years ago:

Dog owners are about four times more likely than other people to meet today’s physical activity guidelines, according to a large-scale new study of dogs and exercise.

The study, which involved hundreds of British households, suggests that having a dog can strongly influence how much people exercise.

They wound up with almost 700 participants from 385 neighboring households, half of them women and most middle-aged, although about 70 children also participated. About a third of these people owned a dog.

In general, according to both the questionnaires and activity monitors, most dog owners spent close to 300 minutes each week walking with their dogs, which was about 200 more minutes of walking per week than people without dogs.

More unexpected, dog owners also spent slightly more time than other people jogging, cycling and visiting the gym solo, without their dogs, indicating that walking Fido had not bumped other activities from their lives.

The influence of dogs extended also to the young, the scientists found. Children whose families owned dogs walked for about 100 minutes each week and played and romped with their pets for another 200 minutes, making them substantially more active than children in homes without dogs.

Civilization

That all sounds great, right? If you’ve been blessed with the presence of a dog — or really, any other animal companion — in your life, you know what it’s like to have a beautiful aspect of God’s creation in your care.

In your care.

Let’s pause on that. If we agree that we’re caring for these creations of God, why do we use the word “owner” to describe our relationship with them? What does that entail?

The journalist Kenny Torella, in an article for Vox Media, muses on that very question in a piece titled “The case against pet ownership: Why we should aim for a world with fewer but happier pets.” In it, he references the 2016 book Run, Spot, Run: The Ethics of Keeping Pets by author and bioethicist Jessica Pierce. He writes:

Pierce wants to show people like me the shadows beneath the sunny narrative of pet ownership, things like physical abuse, animal hoarding, puppy mills, dog fighting, and bestiality.

But beyond such extremes, Pierce’s work aims to direct our gaze to where more subtle, but far more common, forms of everyday neglect and cruelty lie. To Pierce, even well-meaning pet owners may have a lot to answer for: punitive training, prolonged captivity and extreme confinement, mutilations (declawing, ear and tail docking), outdoor tethering, lack of autonomy, verbal abuse, monotonous and unhealthy diets, lack of grooming, and inadequate veterinary care. (In 2016, about one-fifth of dog owners and half of cat owners didn’t bring their animal in for routine or preventive care, which is highly recommended.)

Add to the bill lack of exercise and socialization, boredom, and even abandonment. (Almost one-fifth of pet owners surveyed late last year said they were considering giving up their pets due to cost amid high inflation, which is generally not an option for other “family members.”)

All this is possible because, unlike children, pets aren’t really family members — they’re property without legal rights and few laws to protect them. And because abuse and neglect primarily occur in the privacy of the home, there’s little accountability for it. Even the most responsible pet owners, which I’d count myself among, are bound to fail to meet the needs of their animals due to other responsibilities and the inherent challenges of keeping a dog or cat in a world made for humans.

But beggar dogs do get scraps from the master’s table.

What’s changed in the 2 millennia since the Canaanite woman challenged Jesus?

For starters, we think we’re more civilized. And in many ways we are. But I think we also conflate the fact that we’re technologically advanced with being more civilized.

The Cambridge Dictionary defines “civilized” this way:

A civilized society or country has a well developed system of government, culture, and way of life and that treats the people who live there fairly.

Dictionary.com defines it as:

Having an advanced or humane culture, society, etc.

Fairly. Humane. Interesting word choices.

Consider this: You wake up in the morning and reach for your phone. You see a social media notification badge. You open the app (to get your first dopamine fix of the day), and you see a politically charged post from a “friend” who is completely civilized in real life but is a raging partisan online. Maybe you leave a comment; maybe it’s negative.

You get up, start the coffee pot and let the dog out. Instead of running around the yard, she immediately comes back in and wants to play. But you’re already in your work emails. You toss her in her crate, get dressed and head to work.

In traffic you get cut off, tailgated, honked at and/or flipped off — all while secretly reading your phone and dictating response texts and emails. You almost rear-end someone at a stoplight. Maybe you engage in a little “sign language” of your own.

How civilized does this sound? Does it sound fair? Humane?

The reason beggar dogs got scraps from the master’s table was because they were part of the life of the family. Even if they weren’t working dogs, they were never far from the daily activities of someone in the family. When the family sat down to eat, they begged for scraps and they got them.

The story of the Canaanite woman is just one of so many examples the Gospels give us of how Jesus stopped what he was doing to acknowledge someone who came to him in a state of need. Here are just 26 of them:

• The Nobleman’s Son (Jn 4:46).
• The Man with an Unclean Spirit ( Mk 1:21, Lu 4:31).
• Simon Peter’s Mother-in-Law (Matt 8:14, Mk 1:29, Lu 4:38).
• The Healing of the Leper (Matt 8:1, Mk 1:40, Lu 5:12).
• The Healing of the Paralytic (Matt 9:1, Mk 2:1, Lu 5:17).
• The Man at Bethesda pool (Jn. 5:2).
• The Man with the Withered Hand (Matt 12:9, Mk 3:1, Lu 6:6).
• The Centurion’s Servant (Matt 8:5; Lu 7:2)
• Widow’s Deceased Son (Lu 7:11)
• Demoniacs at Gadara (Matt 8:28; Mk 5:1; Lu 8:26)
• Woman with the Issue of Blood (Matt 9:20; Mk 5:25; Lu 8:43)
• Jairus’s Deceased Daughter (Matt 9:18; Mk 5:21; Lu 8:40)
• Two Blind Men (Matt 9:27)
• Mute, Possessed Man (Matt 9:32)
• Daughter of Canaanite (Matt 15:21; Mk 4:24)
• Deaf Man with Impediment (Mk 7:32)
• Blind Man at Bethsaida (Mk 8:22)
• Epileptic Boy (Matt 17:14; Mk 9:14; Lu 9:37)
• Man Born Blind (Jn 9:1)
• Man, Blind, Dumb, Possessed (Matt 12:22; Lu 11:14)
• Woman Bent Double (Lu 13:10)
• Man with Dropsy (Lu 14:1)
• Lazarus (Jn 11:11)
• Ten Lepers (Lu 17:11)
• Blind Bartimaeus (Matt 20:29; Mk 10:45; Lu 18:35)
• Malchus (Lu 22:50)

The true number, of course, is likely 10 to 100 times these examples.

I like the idea that Jesus took advantage of the teachable moment with the Canaanite woman to show the disciples how easy it can be to get so caught up in saving the world that you miss the opportunities to heal it.

In other words, they were just as vulnerable to distraction as we are today.

Here’s something to pray over: When someone in Jesus’ time paused to imagine what the people of the future — say, 2 millennia later — might look and act like, how close would you say we’ve come to that ideal?

Kinda hilarious and sad all at the same time, huh?

Now, what do we imagine the people of 2 millennia from now might be like?

And how do we get there?

Two stories

This is from a New York Times article titled “The World’s Happiest Man Shares His Three Rules for Life”:

Matthieu Ricard is an ordained Buddhist monk and an internationally best-selling author of books about altruism, animal rights, happiness and wisdom.

In the early 2000s, researchers at the University of Wisconsin found that Ricard’s brain produced gamma waves — which have been linked to learning, attention and memory — at such pronounced levels that the media named him “the world’s happiest man.”

“Once I was on the India Today Conclave. They said, ‘Can you give us the three secrets of happiness?’ I said: ‘First, there’s no secret. Second, there’s not just three points. Third, it takes a whole life, but it is the most worthy thing you can do.’ I’m happy to feel I am on the right track. I cannot imagine feeling hate or wanting someone to suffer.”

Not to reduce 2,500 years of contemplative science to a single sentence, but is there a thought that you can suggest to people that they can carry in their minds that might be helpful to them as they go through life’s challenges? If you can, as much as possible, cultivate that quality of human warmth, wanting genuinely for other people to be happy; that’s the best way to fulfill your own happiness. This is also the most gratifying state of mind. Those guys who believe in selfishness and say, “You do that because you feel good about it” — this is so stupid. Because if you help others but you don’t care a damn, then you won’t feel anything! Wanting to separate doing something for others from feeling good yourself is like trying to make a flame that burns with light but no warmth. If we try humbly, with some happiness, to enhance our benevolence, that will be the best way to have a good life. That’s the best modest advice I could give.

What’s the wisest thing the Dalai Lama ever said to you? I remember I came out of this one-year retreat to take care of my father. At the same time I was interpreting for the Dalai Lama in Brussels. So I told him: “I’m going back to the retreat. What is your advice?” He said, “In the beginning, meditate on compassion; in the middle, meditate on compassion; in the end, meditate on compassion.”

From “What a beautiful world it would be if people had hearts like dogs,” by Catherine
Newell:

Being a veterinarian, I had been called to examine a 10-year-old Irish Wolfhound named Belker. The dog’s owners, Ron, his wife Lisa, and their little boy Shane, were all very attached to Belker, and they were hoping for a miracle.

I examined Belker and found he was dying of cancer. I told the family we couldn’t do anything for Belker, and offered to perform the euthanasia procedure for the old dog in their home.

The next day, I felt the familiar catch in my throat as Belker‘s family surrounded him. Shane seemed so calm, petting the old dog for the last time, that I wondered if he understood what was going on. Within a few minutes, Belker slipped peacefully away.

The little boy seemed to accept Belker’s transition without any difficulty or confusion. We sat together for a while after Belker’s death, wondering aloud about the sad fact that dogs’ lives are shorter than human lives. Shane, who had been listening quietly, piped up, ”I know why.”

He said, ”People are born so that they can learn how to live a good life — like loving everybody all the time and being nice, right?” The six-year-old continued,

“Well, dogs already know how to do that, so they don’t have to stay for as long as we do.”

Woof.

Amen.