Canaanite Woman

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Christ and the Woman from Canaan - Pieter Lastman


The master had shared some harsh words with a group of Pharisees.  His words centered around the essence of ancient teachings, those which had been handed down by our ancestors.  We stood by, watched, listened.  The Pharisees were belligerent.  Jesus tired of their hypocrisy.  He told the crowds that nothing that went into a man's mouth could make him unclean, rather, what comes out, the vile, the disgusting, the impious.  He called out to the few leaders who lingered behind.  He labeled them as he saw them, blind guides who did nothing but lead their followers into the pit.

Then Peter asked him to explain.

The master seemed to be amazed at our lack of understanding, so he laid out his teaching in great detail, before leaving that place with an air of frustration.  We mumbled amongst ourselves about the old laws, and whether Jesus' teachings abolished them.

Matthew seemed to have understood the teaching.  He said to us, "Don't you see.  The impurities come out of us.  They are manifested by the words we say.  Sometimes they flow off our tongues with ease.  They are deep within us.  What we eat matters none." Matthew didn't speak much.  Some of us had yet to except him in our ranks.  After all, he had been a tax collector, a friend of the Romans.  But he was one of those closest to Jesus, and he had developed a knack of observing.

"And what of the Pharisees," another asked.

Peter shook his head. "I'm sure we have much to learn," he added.

We were near the cities of Tyre and Sidon.  Our group had grown quiet, and then she approached.  We all knew she was a Canaanite.  She was not one of us, yet she seemed aware of Jesus' miracles.  After all, he had fed the five thousand.  We were positive that word had spread all over the region.

"Son of David," she called.

A few of our number tried to push her away as she approached.  She began to plea, open hands at her side, tears beginning to form in her eyes.  There was a desperation about her.

"My daughter," she continued, " has a demon.  I beg you for her sake.  Not for mine.  Have mercy."

He continued walking, never so much as looking in the woman's direction.  A few of our number addressed him, "Send her away, Master.  She is drawing attention."

At this Jesus slowed and came to a stop.  The woman now had tears running down her cheeks.  Her hands were folded in front of her.  She continued her chant for mercy.

"I have been sent solely for the lost sheep of Israel."

His words seemed unfeeling.  There were mixed emotions among those of us witnessing, but we were Jews, the chosen people of God, she was not.  Her people had turned from God long ago.  Why should she reap of a harvest she never sowed?

With humility she threw herself at his feet.  Knees against the dust, scraped by contact with the hard clay, she looked up at the master. "Sir, please... help me."

"It isn't right," Jesus began without the slightest change in the tone of his voice. "that I should give the children's food to the dogs.  I told you, I have come for the lost sheep of Israel.  What I have is theirs."

Still crying, she lowered her face and replied humbly, "You are correct.  Your mission is to the people of Israel.  You have come seeking them.  I am nothing more than a dog under the table.  But sir, even the dogs get the crumbs that fall to the floor.

With those words the master's face softened.  This woman, this Canaanite, had shown something the Pharisees lacked.  Maybe we, those of us following him, saw it too.  Now we understood a small portion of his message.

"You are a woman of great faith," Jesus said, meeting her gaze. "Your daughter is healed."

"It's like with the Centurion," Matthew said. "Remember what he said."

A few of us shook our heads.  We had forgotten more than we retained.

Matthew remembered.  He observed.  He took notes.  He spoke the words Jesus has said, not that long ago. "Never, have I found anyone in Israel, anyone among those chosen, with faith like this."

The woman believed.  She left us, a broad smile enhancing her face.  Her daughter was exorcised of the evil spirit simply because Jesus had said so.  A few of us watched her scamper through the gathering crowd, light on her feet, filled with joy, and an ember of faith.

As we moved on, Peter fell behind Jesus.  He looked at us.  The tired face a fisherman met each of ours.  His shouts had always directed the lowering of our nets into the sea of our labor.  He was quieter now.  Slowly he began to speak. "We do have much to learn.  Our Master has found faith among the Gentiles.  Is it possible that we who were chosen, will reject him?"





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