Matthew 15:21-28 (Year A, Proper 15)
The one where Jesus calls a woman, "Dog," but not like that
The gospel reading for Sunday, August 20th is Matthew 15:21-28, and it tells the story of the Syrophoenician woman who asked Jesus to heal her daughter.
It helps to know
The biblical type-story of women making important requests to important men. There are a lot. To name a few, Rahab the Gentile ask the spies for protection for her family (Josh. 2); the daughters of Zelophehad ask Joshua to honor a land deal (Josh. 19); Esther asks Ahasuerus for protection for her family (Esth. 5); the Shunammite woman asks Elisha to help her dead son (2 Kgs. 4); the widow asks the unjust judge for justice (Luke 18:1-8). This woman is in great company.
Where the woman is from. “Canaan,” says Matthew; “Syrophoenecia,” says Mark. These claims don't contradict. While Mark identifies her geographically, Matthew identifies her as a member of the people who lived in “The Promised Land” before Israel entered it. The most famous Canaanite in the Bible is Rahab. That’s two reasons to keep Rahab in mind.
This is the second woman Jesus calls an animal. The other story is more feel-good. Here it is. In Luke 13, Jesus meets a “daughter of Abraham” (13:16), bound by Satan. After releasing her on the Sabbath, he justifies his behavior by reasoning, “Does not each of you on the Sabbath untie his ox or his donkey?” This is a reference to the Sabbath responsibilities of a head of household: “On [the Sabbath day] you shall not do any work, you, or your son, or your daughter, your male servant, or your female servant, or your livestock, or the sojourner who is within your gates” (Exod. 20:9-10) Jesus is the head of Abraham's house and, on the Sabbath, he “releases” all of Abraham’s donkeys from their labor. So why not this woman?
This woman isn’t Abraham's donkey; she isn’t Abraham’s, and she’s a dog. Making her own appeal to the Sabbath tradition, she identifies not as a daughter, nor even as a female servant (stooping lower than the prodigal son did), but as a dog. But, no, not “a” dog, but Jesus’ dog, calling his table, her “master’s table.”
There's more here, but I think it’s important to know how the Sabbath law relates to this story.
That this is the third time Jesus is called “Son of David.” Two blind men call him “Son of David” (9:27). Then a demon-oppressed man, blind and mute, is healed by Jesus, and the people wonder whether Jesus is the Son of David (12:22-24). Just keep in mind that there is a particular association between the eschatological “Son of David,” release from oppression, and authority over demons. I think the best text for this is Isaiah 61:1-3 (cf. Luke 4:16-21), but I’m not sure.
The Prayer of Humble Access. This is the big one for Anglicans. This Eucharistic prayer, written by Thomas Cranmer, apes an image from this woman’s appeal: “We are not worthy so much as to gather up the crumbs under thy Table.” I have two bones to pick about this prayer, so I’m going to pick them both here.
First, I've seen too many Anglicans Bible-splain this prayer without giving Cranmer credit for his creative use of other sources. Here’s a good article from Katie Badie, explaining it. I will simply reproduce the prayer, following each line with the source from which Cranmer most likely drew:
We do not presume to come to this thy Table, O merciful Lord... (From priest's private prayer before communion, from the York Missal, a medieval Catholic prayer book used in York, England: “May the receiving of your Body, Lord Jesus Christ, which I, unworthy, dare to receive, not bring me to judgment and condemnation.” In effect, Cranmer has the whole church praying like Catholic priests.)
...trusting in our own righteousness, but in thy manifold and great mercies. (From Daniel 9:18, “For we do not cast our prayers before thee in our own righteousness, no, but only in thy great mercies,” but not straight from Daniel. The prayer had already been incorporated into St. Basil’s [Eastern] liturgy and St. James’ and Florus of Lyons’ [Western] liturgies. Florus: “Putting our hope not in our merits but in the multitude of your mercies.”)
We are not worthy so much as to gather up the crumbs under thy Table. (From Matthew 15: “And [Jesus] answered, ‘It is not right to take the children's bread and throw it to the dogs.’ She said, ‘Yes, Lord, yet even the dogs eat the crumbs that fall from their masters’ table.” This text had not been incorporated into a liturgy before.)
But thou art the same Lord... (“The same Lord” comes from Romans 10:12: “There is no difference between the Jew and the Greek; for the same Lord over all is rich unto all that call upon him.” Subtle. Tasty.)
... whose property is always to have mercy. (Straight from the Sarum Missal, which is from the Sacramentarium Gregorianum: “O God, whose nature and property is ever to have mercy and to forgive...”)
Grant us therefore, gracious Lord, so to eat the flesh of thy dear Son Jesus Christ, and to drink his blood... (That’s just John 6:47-58.)
... that our sinful bodies may be made clean by his body, and our souls washed through his most precious blood... (That the flesh “makes clean” and the blood “washes” comes from the Westminster and Hereford Missals: “As we have committed sins of flesh and blood, may the flesh of our Lord Jesus Christ make us clean and his blood wash us.” There are more minutiae, but I'll mention the Levitical logic: “It is the blood that maketh an atonement for the soul” (17:11).)
... and that we may evermore dwell in him, and he in us. Amen. (It lands in John 6:54, “He that eateth my flesh and drinketh my blood dwelleth in me and I in him.”)
I hope that was interesting. The point for today is that Thomas Cranmer grafted the Canaanite/Syrophoenecian woman's bold, faith-filled metaphor into a powerful lineup of Bible quotes and liturgies. And now, because of her, and because of him, we say it every Sunday.
Second bone: But... Cranmer uses the woman's metaphor differently than she did! He frames it with, “We are not worthy so much as to gather up the crumbs under Thy table.” The woman didn’t say that. She thought dogs were worthy of crumbs: “Yet even the dogs eat the crumbs that fall from their masters’ table” (15:27). She isn't wrong for this. She is great: “O woman, great is your faith!” And her desire is appropriate: “Be it done for you as you desire.” (15:28)
Cranmer is a Dour Dan. Many people know this about him, including the late Archbishop of Canterbury, Rowan Williams, who had this to say about Cranmer and his hyper-penitence at the 450th anniversary of his martyrdom in March of 2006
That habit of mind which had always circled and hovered, tested words and set them to work against each other in fruitful tension, sought to embody in words the reality of penitence and self-scrutiny, condemned him, especially in the midst of isolation, confusion, threats and seductions of spirit, to a long agony, whose end came only in this church minutes before his last hurrying, stumbling walk through the rain to the stake.
Cranmer may have been scrupulous, but not because he didn't know the gospel. He wrestled fruitfully, for a lifetime, over the hard fact of sin. Abp. Williams concludes his sermon not with criticism, but praise:
Just as the insistent reversion to penitence in the Communion Order is not neurotic uncertainty but the sober expression of the truth that we never 'move on' from being saved sinners, and our amazement at God's free forgiveness has to be spoken out again and again. The edge of our resource: that is where faith belongs, and that is where the language of worship has to lead us.
The Canaanite woman, Great in Faith, was bold for crumbs; Thomas Cranmer, Great in Faith, was not. She's in the Bible; he put her into our prayer book, albeit in his own way.
In our boldness, we ought not forget our sin. And in our sinfulness, we ought not say, “No, Thank you,” to the bread of life.
Matthew 15:21-28
And Jesus went away from there and withdrew to the district of Tyre and Sidon. And behold, a Canaanite woman from that region came out and was crying, ‘Have mercy on me, O Lord, Son of David; my daughter is severely oppressed by a demon.’ But he did not answer her a word. And his disciples came and begged him, saying, ‘Send her away, for she is crying out after us.’ He answered, ‘I was sent only to the lost sheep of the house of Israel.’ But she came and knelt before him, saying, ‘Lord, help me.’ And he answered, ‘It is not right to take the children’s bread 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, ‘O woman, great is your faith! Be it done for you as you desire.’ And her daughter was healed instantly.
Lectionary Resonances
Isaiah 56:1-8. The most obvious resonance is in v. 8, where, “Yahweh, who gathers the outcasts of Israel (cf. “the lost sheep of the house of Israel,” Matt. 15:24), declares, “I will gather yet others to him besides those already gathered.” She gave herself a name lower than servant, but Jesus will give her “a name better than sons and daughters” (v. 5). But there's another sneaky resonance.
Verses 2 and 4 talk about keeping Yahweh's Sabbaths. The woman keeps the Sabbath. Not by resting, but by bolding telling Jesus to keep the Sabbath, by giving his household, including his dog, rest. We forget that we are members of God's house, and the primary theological meaning of “Keep the Sabbath,” is that Jesus keeps the Sabbath by giving his children, his servants, and his animals rest. (My book, which argues this at length, comes out soon...)
Psalm 67. “Let the nations be glad.” The nations, including are made glad when Jesus frees their daughters from oppression.
Romans 11:13-24. I won't venture into the weeds. The first sentence is enough: “Now I am speaking to you Gentiles” (v. 13). The lesson is, “Do not be arrogant toward the branches... Remember it is not you who support the root, but the root that supports you” (v. 18). You know who’s not arrogant toward anyone? Thomas Cranmer. That man read his Romans, knew his gospel, and knew his sin. When he got to this part, I’m sure he undelined it. Today’s texts give us a witness to Gentile boldness (Matt. 15) and a call to Gentile humility (Rom. 11). It is good that today, like every Sunday, we will confess our sins, practice penitence, say that one prayer, and eat our bread in humble boldness.
How I might preach this
Well, I want to proclaim the gospel, but I also want to talk about the Prayer of Humble Access. If I was an Episcopalian, I'd only have eight minutes, and I’d have to pick one or the other. Since I’m in the ACNA, I'm licensed to preach upwards of twenty minutes. (That's a joke, haha.)
But I’d preach this one both by commending the woman for her boldness, pointing out the big biblical tradition of woman asking for important things from important people, and the penitential emphasis of this part of our Eucharistic liturgy.
If I was a third wave feminist, or simply hip, I might try to find a way to talk about how the Barbie movie illustrates bold women and self-scrutinizing men.
Ultimately, I’d call all Anglican Christians to imitate the spirits of both the Canaanite woman and the British man, a spiritual mother and spiritual father to us all. In the household of Jesus, who goes and finds the lost children of Israel and of all nations, we must be both bold and penitent.