Homily upon Reminiscere

[Genesis 32:22-32; 1 Thes 4:1-7; Matt 15:21-28]

When do you ever recall Jesus treating anyone the way he treated that woman? Where is the One who answered the leper: “I will, be clean”? Where is the One who embraced the children and held them in his arms, blessing them? Where is the One who gently conversed with the woman at the well and brought her to faith? It’s almost as though this Jesus in today’s Gospel is some stranger.

Put yourself in the place of that poor woman. There is she, not knowing where to turn, what to do, her daughter grievously afflicted by the evil spirit – so that she would have cried out: “What has taken hold of you, my child?” And just when the mother was the point of despairing, unbelievable news reached her. News that Jesus is nearby. Jesus, the great healer and prophet from Galilee, the man rumored to be the Jewish Messiah, and most importantly the man to whom no one ever cried for help in vain. And so off she runs to find him and seek the help that can come only from his hand.

And how does he greet her? How does he welcome her? As if she herself were a demon. He ignores her! He strides right on the up road as if she’d never even spoken to him.

Have you ever been ignored? I mean intentionally ignored? Then you know the feelings that battled in her heart. For Satan was right there whispering: “See, you’ve got it all wrong. He doesn’t care about you. You might as well go on home.” But the woman persists.

Jesus and the disciples walk along and they’ve got a hound yapping at their heels: “Have mercy on me, Lord, Son of David! Have mercy!” She won’t shut up and she won’t go away.

You can see the disciples begin to look at each other in discomfort and finally they steel up the nerve to speak to the Lord Jesus, who is acting like he’s not in a mood to be disturbed. “Lord, please” they say, “send her away. She’s crying out after us.” Understand, “she’s making a scene and if you just give her what she wants, she’ll go away and we’ll have some peace.”

Jesus’ reply cuts deeper in her heart than his silence ever did. “I am the shepherd who goes in search of the lost sheep. I’m not sent to deal with groveling goats. I’m Israel’s savior.” 


And she, she was not of Israel. She was not a Jew. A Canaanite, a descendant from that race that God told the children of Israel were accursed and to be wiped out. And so what right does she have to be there begging Jesus for mercy? Satan again whispers in her heart: “Give it up, woman. He’s not for you. He’s not your Savior or helper. He doesn’t care about you in the least. Just go home.”

We can only guess what kind of a struggle went on in her mind as she dealt with Jesus’ harsh words. But we know the outcome of the struggle. It’s as though she said to herself: “Look, Master, you can pretend to be as hard and cold and callous as you want, but I know you better than that. I know what I’ve heard and I know it’s true, and I will not give up on you, because I know you will not give up on me.” And so she plants her face in the dust at his feet and simply begs, “Help me!”

And as if all his harsh words were not harsh enough, think of how he answers now: “It would not be right to take the children’s bread and throw it to the dogs.” Jesus calls her a dog, unworthy of bread he had come to bring to His own people, the Jews. Luther wrote: “If he spoke like that to me, I’d have gone away sad, thinking he hated me.”

But not this woman. Look at the miracle of faith. He calls her a dog. Fine, then. A dog she will be. And as a dog she will demand her due. For the dogs eat the crumbs from the children’s table, and all she wants is a crumb, after all.

Can you see the stony, hard face of Jesus melt into a smile of joy? Can you see him reach out his hand and lay it gently on her head and say to her: “Oh, woman. Great is your faith. Let it be done for you as you desire.” And, of course, it was. Instantly. You see, it’s how the Lord exercises our faith, puts muscle on it. She walked away strengthened and confirmed in what she had held to be true throughout Jesus’ rough handling.

Now, what about you. Have you ever been there? Have you ever been where this woman was? In great need and when you prayed, you felt like all you got was the stony silence of heaven for an answer? If you’ve ever had Satan whisper in your heart at such a time: “He doesn’t care about you. He doesn’t love you. You’re not one of his” – then you know what she was going through.

But, oh, my friends, learn from her too. Learn from her that faith does not give up on God. That faith closes itself off from feelings and appearances and wraps itself up in the Word of promise. Learn from her that that Word of promise – that your Jesus is for you and loves you – is the unshakable rock upon which faith rests.

To strengthen you in such faith against all appearances to the contrary, your Jesus gives you His body and blood, the very ransom price he once offered for your body and soul. He gives it to you and says: “for you.” And that “for you” means beyond all else that He IS for you, that He is on your side and wants you to share in His life forever. That’s what he went to the cross for, after all. That’s why he left the door of grave shattered behind him. That's why He baptized you into Himself and promised you an eternity of communion with Him.

And so strengthened by His promise, you can go back and wrestle with Him like Jacob and like this Canaanite woman. You too can say: “Treat me however you will. I know that your love for me is unshakable and on that I rest secure and at peace. And no, I will not let you go until you bless me.”