Why Does Jesus Call the Canaanite Woman a Dog?

Mike Leake

I’ve always been a bit unsettled by Jesus’ reference to the Canaanite woman as a “dog”. I’ve heard all the explanations given and none of them seemed all that satisfactory, they seemed like an attempt to get around the very offensive thing that Jesus said to this woman. But I noticed something a few nights ago when our associate pastor was teaching on this passage. I’d never noticed this thread before and I think it’s actually the key to understanding the passage.

First, you need to know a little about Tyre and Messianic expectations. Consider these words from the extra-biblical Psalms of Solomon:

Cleanse Jerusalem from the nations that trample it in destruction, to expel sinners from the inheritance in wisdom, in righteousness, to rub out the arrogance of the sinner like a potter’s vessel, to crush all their support with an iron rod; 27 to destroy lawless nations by the word of his mouth, for Gentiles to flee from his face at his threat, and to reprove sinners by the word of their heart. (Pss. Sol. 17:25-27)

This was an expectation of the Messiah. When he comes he is going to go into places like Tyre—the very embodiment of paganism—and destroy them. You expect a Messiah to go to such a wicked place, call them all dogs, and leave—maybe lighting a match on his way out.

But the Gospel of Mark is painting a different picture of the Messiah. He’s just spoke to the Pharisees about what defiles a person. It’s not what is on the outside but it’s the stuff of the inside. That kind of talk would lead a Messiah into Tyre to provide redemption instead of wrathful rebuke.

But then when Jesus gets into Tyre he sounds more like the Messiah of the Psalms of Solomon than the type of Messiah of the Gospel of Mark. What gives?

Now some will say that Jesus is testing this woman’s faith. Others will point out that Jesus uses a term that means “puppy” instead of scavenger dog. And those are fine points to make, because I think Jesus is speaking in parable here to the woman. And so far in the gospel of Mark she’s the only one who actually understands his parable. But the key word in this passage isn’t “dog” but “bread”.

That’s actually the question that this whole section is about. Who is the blessing of Messiah for? Who gets to enjoy his reign? If you ask the Pharisees it’s them—they are the children of Israel. To hell with the Gentiles, unless of course they become like the Pharisees. Messiah bread isn’t going to be lavished upon a place like Tyre.

And so Jesus uses this language—and yes, I think he uses the diminutive term here to invite her into the parable. You don’t take the kids food and feed it to the puppy dog. Who qualifies for Messiah’s bread?

In Matthew’s account those around Jesus are telling this woman to be silent. She’s an unqualified Gentile. A defiled person isn’t going to reap the benefits of the Messiah’s healing ministry. She’d do far better to go home and find some other remedy…maybe her paganism will help her. Defiled people don’t get Messiah bread.

But the woman, quite rightly, sees the whole in this entire way of thinking. Who puts a limit on Messiah’s bread? Why should we assume that the kids starve if the puppy gets some crumbs? She’s just asking for a crumb. Just a touch of his garment. Surely, there is enough Messiah to go around.

And that is the point of this entire passage. That’s why Mark and Matthew put it right here. Here is why I firmly believe that’s on the right track. Why in the world do the gospel writers include two miraculous feedings? We get it, Jesus can feed people without much resource. But notice where these feedings occur? One in Jewish country the other in Gentile territory. I don’t think that’s an accident. Nor do I think it’s accidental that chortazo (“be fed”) appears in the gospel of Mark only hear and in both of the miraculous feedings.

So, yeah, I think there is a bit of a test of faith for this Canaanite woman. There is wordplay going on here. But more than anything Jesus is teaching his disciples about what it really means that he is the Bread of Life. It means that He’s enough. And He doesn’t have to be stored away in fear that somehow he’s not sufficient to be given away freely to Jew and Gentile alike. Messiah takes the bread of redemption to Tyre.

Haven’t you learned the lesson of the loaves? Jesus is enough.

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Photo source: here

I’d also be remiss not to give a hat tip to James Edwards’ excellent commentary on Mark.

Why We Welcome Noisy Kids in Our Sunday Service

Mike Leake

There is discussion on the interwebs these days about a pastor who stopped his sermon to rebuke a lady and her noisy baby. The video that was posted is pretty cringeworthy. For the record, I don’t share his view. But I’ve also opened my mouth from the pulpit when I shouldn’t have. I’m guessing he feels like a schmuck today. And it’s sad that public mistakes like this can define your entire ministry in our cancel culture. He shouldn’t have said it—but I bet this pastor is far more than just that moment.

This video got me thinking about the nature of pastoral ministry and preaching. I think that’s really what is going on here. And I think it’s a faulty, though prevalent, view which causes a pastor to stop a sermon to rebuke a mama and her noisy baby.

I think we’ve put the preaching moment on a pedestal and given it a weight that it cannot bear. And yet at the same time I don’t believe our view of preaching is lofty enough. What I’m attempting to say is that there is a very earthy component to preaching and yet at the same time an otherworldly aspect. The pulpit is a sacred space in sacred moments but its inhabited by a faulty creature attempting to obey a perfect God.

And so I agree wholeheartedly when Zack Eswine says, “pastoral ministry is creaturely”. What he means by that is that only a couple hours before entering the pulpit I likely drank a Mt. Dew, wrestled with feelings of pride or inferiority, tried to decide if I needed to use the bathroom before or after the sermon, and etched out a few notes so I wouldn’t forget to make important announcements then promptly forgot to make those announcements.

It’s forgetting these things that causes a pastor to stop a sermon mid-sentence and rebuke a mom. I get the notion that we only get 30-45 minutes per week to exposit the Word for some of our folks. And it seems like telling a mom to exit with her baby and watch the sermon out in the lobby is somehow exalting the place of the Word of God. “We don’t even let a crying baby get in our way of hearing the Word”, we think we’re communicating. But in reality what we’re doing is denying the Incarnation. God’s Word is enfleshed. He came as a crying baby—thus making God’s Word and the exposition of God’s Word a creaturely enterprise.

A noisy kid is what the exposition of the Word is all about. God’s Word doesn’t meet us in the serene it meets us in the chaos. Yes, the preaching of the Word is a holy moment. Yes, it demands our attention. But not in a way that robs us of our creaturely status or doesn’t meet us in the ordinary parts.

At Calvary we encourage families to worship together. Even if your kids are noisy. Even if you have kids with behavioral issues. Even if you fall asleep because you worked the night shift or your meds make you uncontrollably sleepy. That’s not to say we don’t attempt to teach our children to give attention to God’s Word. It’s simply to say we believe God’s Word meets us in the chaos. And so the preaching moment doesn’t need a “little Lord Jesus with no crying he makes”, it’s quite the opposite. The Word creates in chaos not in the lobby.

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Photo source: here

I also know there is another point here to be made about parents/guardians teaching kids how to listen and give respect to those speaking. But my thinking is that the glory of God is captivating. Preach Jesus full and passionately and you’ll see kids engage.

Read This! 1.21.20

Mike Leake

Five Key Questions to Ask of Your Church Polity

I do find these questions incredibly helpful. Different congregations may differ on how they answer them but the whole process would be thought-provoking.

Can We Give Thanks For Flawed Heroes?

I really hope we get this one right as a culture. As a student of history it saddens me that our cancel culture has impacted men/women of the past. That’s not to say that everything is perfect—but merely to say I’m not sure anyone in the image of God should be canceled.

Wayne Grudem on Divorce and Abuse

This is actually pretty significant. You’ve probably already read this one, but I find his position pretty helpful.

Is There Still a Place for Blogs in 2020?

I agree with Tim, but I still think the nature of blogging needs to change a bit. There is also an underbelly to the democratization of knowledge. I know that there isn’t much of a way that I’d ever have had a platform (even as minimal as it is) or published a book without this. And yet I also think this democratization of knowledge without a growth in wisdom is one of our great social ills.

Medieval Book Curses

Such a fun little history. I like reading these little slices of days long gone.

6 Ways to Foster Healthy Social Media Habits

These are helpful. The goal of fruitful engagement is a good one to set. Far too often other motivations are driving the bus.

Can you solve the prisoner hat riddle? I was close:

The Taste of Mercy is Sweeter

Mike Leake 1 Comment

“…when he had prayed for his friends…” –Job 42:10

I’d never noticed this little phrase in Job 42 before, but it is vital–not only Job’s restoration but to the entire book of Job. And it’s an incredibly hard word to swallow. Job’s restoration is tied to his forgiveness of the friends who multiplied his pain. Job had to become a comforter to those who were miserable comforters to him.

Do you realize how difficult of an ask this is?

Think about the words of Bildad in Job 8. The stench of death has barely left his home and Bildad’s counsel is essentially, “Your kid is dead because of his rebellion (v4). You are lucky this hasn’t happened to you yet. God mercifully not striking you dead should motivate you to repentance and you’d better do it now or you’re going to be in the grave with your sons”. That’s messed up.

Do you think Job isn’t going to carry that around for awhile?

It’s here that Job cries out hoping that someone could be a faithful arbiter between him and God. It’s a role that Bildad should have played. He should have listened to his friend. He should have looked more into the suffering of Job and not jumped to conclusions. He should have been on his friends side. It would have required a shakeup of his theology, though. It would have been uncomfortable to stand with Job. So Bildad hid behind the theology and tradition of his fathers and offered Job lousy comfort.

But here, a few chapters later, and Bildad is walking up to Job, hands tethered to a few sacrificial animals, asking him if he’ll be an arbiter for him. “Job, we were wrong. Will you ask God to give us grace? Will you be an arbiter for us?”

This isn’t just asking for forgiveness, shaking hands, walking away, burying it in the past. This is asking to be an active participant in the redemption and restoration of the person who caused you an extreme amount of pain. This is lavishing grace upon someone who refused to give you an ounce.

Wouldn’t justice have tasted so sweet in this moment? Job was vindicated. His friends were shown to be idiots. Now the ball is in his court. God has said that he won’t listen to their prayer but that he will listen to the prayer of Job. It’s as if God is saying, “I’ll forgive them if you will, Job.” (That makes me uncomfortable. I’m not sure I like the implications of that—but this is where the text leads us). You can pour out justice upon the people that hurt you, Job. Or you can pray for them and I’ll cover every bit of their iniquity.

Job—after seeing the majesty of God in the whirlwind—understood that mercy always tastes sweeter than bitter justice. So he prayed for them. And it was then…and the text leads us to say only then…Job’s fortunes are restored.

Job is many things, but one component of the story is about a man whose authentic suffering leads to the redemption of those who caused much of his suffering. It’s a story which will centuries later be magnified by a much greater Suffering Servant whose “Father, forgive them” opened up redemption for all those who would be redeemed. And it is this forgiveness which is the impetus for our own call, as well as our ability, to choose the sweet taste of mercy over bitter justice.

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Photo source: here