But she answered him, “Yes, Lord; yet even the dogs under the table eat the children’s crumbs.”
I have often wondered at the Lord's response to the Syrophoenician woman. Here is Jesus in her part of the world - the region of Tyre and Sidon - and she, one of the residents who has obviously heard of Him as a merciful and powerful worker of miracles, comes with a huge concern. Her little daughter is possessed by a demon - an "unclean spirit." Who knows how it came to be that this little girl would be in this condition? This region was pagan in its general beliefs and practices, and as such, the people were in great darkness. Likely they indulged in spirit-ism and the occult. Perhaps this little girl was herself exposed to, or used in, in the occult rituals, possibly by her mother or father, or maybe she was just part of the "collateral damage" of the culture.
In any event, I am sure that it came as no surprise to Jesus that He would encounter Gentiles with needs in this region. So His response to this woman has always been interesting to me. "Let the children be fed first, for it is not right to take the children's bread and throw it to the dogs."
"Dogs?" Really? Not exactly the Andrew Carnegie approach to successful ministry.
Yet, on the other hand, it is clear that Jesus deals with this Gentile, this outsider, not as an annoyance, not like the unrighteous judge of Luke 18:4,5, who only gave his help to the needy widow to get her off his back: “Even though I do not respect God nor fear man, yet because this widow bothers me I will give her legal protection, lest by continually coming she wear me out." Rather, Jesus saw this Gentile woman as an object of His great compassion, whose spoken concern He appreciates, but whose deeper need He determines to address. He tests her, not to plumb the depths of her heart for His own knowledge, but for hers, that she might truly address Him with humility, that she might be freed of her hardness of heart toward the Jews, and that she might acknowledge her own lack of qualification for any blessing from their God.
But if Jesus' response to her request is surprising, her answer to His feigned denial is stunning:
“Yes, Lord; yet even the dogs under the table eat the children’s crumbs.”
Wow! She does not become indignant, does not argue, but seizes upon His words and goes with them as the path to continue her appeal. Here is what the Pulpit Commentary has to say about this remarkable answer:
It is as though she said, “Give me, most gracious Lord, only a crumb (a small mercy compared with thy greater mercies), the healing of my little daughter, which may fall as it were from thee upon us Canaanites and Gentiles, and be gratefully picked up as one of thy lesser benefits.”
Cornelius à Lapide enlarges beautifully upon this: “Feed me, then, as a little dog. To me, a poor Gentile, let a crumb of thy grace and mercy be vouchsafed; but let the full board, the plentiful bread of grace and righteousness, be reserved for the Jewish children. I cannot leave the table of my Lord, whose little dog I am. No; if you spurn me away with your foot, or with a blow, I will go away; but I will come back again, like a little dog, through another door. I will not be driven away by blows. I will not let thee go until thou hast given me what I ask of thee.’ For this Canaanite constrains Christ, arguing her case from his own words, prudently, modestly, forcibly, and with a humble faith which perceives that he is not unwilling to be overcome by petition and by reason. Indeed, she entangles him in the meshes of his own words. So great is the plenteousness of his table, that it shall abundantly suffice for her if she may but partake of the crumbs which fall from the table of his children.”[1]
By her submission to the true ways of God, by acceding to His choice of the Jews as His people and the agency through which He reveals His truth to all peoples, she agreed with God – which is the essence of repentance – and so gained not only the freedom of her daughter from the demon, but of her own soul in the process.
So, by coming to Him in humility, acknowledging that I am not worthy to be seated as His table, but that, if He is willing, just a crumb from the feast that He justifiably provides to whomever He chooses will suffice to heal me, to nurture me, to transform me, to make me a part of the feast, I can have confidence, not in my worthiness, but in His merciful kindness, whose “steadfast love endures forever” (Ps 136).
[1]Spence-Jones, H. D. M. (Hrsg.): The Pulpit Commentary: St. Mark Vol. I. Bellingham, WA : Logos Research Systems, Inc., 2004, S. 295
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