Matthew 15:21-28
August 16, 2026
“Across the world, in every culture,
in every time, in every imaginable crisis, mums have gone looking for their
children.”
This is a quote from Dr. Sarita
Robinson, a United Kingdom survival psychologist, and it is said in the new
limited series, Pompeii: Out of Time. This series is currently streaming,
and it is brilliant. It is a retelling, a reimagining, and a reconstruction of
what happened on that terrible day in 79 AD when Mount Vesuvius erupted and
destroyed Pompeii and Herculaneum and affected other communities along the Bay
of Naples. Tapping into the sciences of volcanology, archaeology, classics, and
psychology, the series seeks to recreate what would have happened on Pompeii’s
last day.
One of the scientists that was
consulted for the series was Dr. Robinson, and she says these words about
mothers in relation to the story of a young boy, Avi, who it is believed, based
on archaeological evidence, to have escaped from the city. Tom Hiddleston, the
show’s host, producer, and driving force, comments to Dr. Robinson that Avi
must have faced the terror of that day alone. But Dr. Robinson says that he may
not have been alone, at least not the whole time, and then she says these
words.
“Across the world, in every culture,
in every time, in every imaginable crisis, mums have gone looking for their
children.”
Her point was that even in the midst
of a horrific crisis, such as a volcano erupting, a mother will not stop
looking for her child. And even though the woman in our story from Matthew’s
gospel is not caught up in a natural disaster, her child, her daughter is
facing another kind of disaster, another kind of crisis. She is being tormented
by a demon.
Thinking about what this survival
psychologist said about moms (and dads too) made me want to begin this sermon by
first asking questions of the woman we encounter in our story rather than
turning our questions on Jesus. In the past, I have done the opposite. I’ve
focused solely on what Jesus says and does, because this is a story where his
response to someone does not resonate or jive with the Jesus that we think we
know. This is one of those hard stories about Jesus which requires us to ask
hard questions of him, but first I want to know about this woman.
In Mark’s gospel, the other gospel
where we read this account, she is a Syrophoenician woman. But in Matthew’s
gospel, she is referred to as a Canaanite. The Canaanites were not a nation per
se, but groups of people living in a particular region. Even though they were
not a nation state, Canaanites were considered enemies of Israel from the
earliest days of Israel’s existence. When this woman approached Jesus, that
ancient enmity and all that it implies would not have been lost on the woman,
on the disciples, or on Jesus. She is an Other. Perhaps she is the most Other
of the many Others that Jesus encounters. She is an Other because of her
culture. She is an Other because of her gender. She is an Other because of the
circumstances of her birth. She is an Other. I grew up in the last years of the
Cold War, and if I had been called upon to describe someone who was considered
a complete Other to my life, my country, my way of thinking and living, I would
have described a Russian. But every generation has its Others, so replace the
word Canaanite with any person who might be an Other in your world, and
you get the picture. But this woman, this Other, clearly recognizes Jesus for
who he is, and she does not hesitate to approach him. Approach is too mild. She
shouts at him. She yells at him, trying to get his attention. But notice that
she uses the language of worship and reverence,
“Have mercy on me, Lord, Son of
David; my daughter is tormented by a demon.”
Have mercy on me, Lord, Son of
David. I don’t think this is just sweet talk on the woman’s part. She
recognizes Jesus and she recognizes that he is not just another guy who might
have the ability to help some folks. She sees him and she recognizes something
in him. But Jesus ignores her. If she was trying to butter him up, it didn’t
work. He ignores her. She could shout till the heavens opened, but he will not
acknowledge her.
Another
person might have given up at this point. Another person might have walked
away, cowed and intimidated at being ignored and rejected. But not this woman. She
is undeterred. If Jesus thinks he will ignore her into submission, into leaving
him alone, he needs to think again. The scripture passage makes it seem as
though this all happens quickly, but in my mind I imagine that she continues to
shout and follow and shout some more. She shouts so much and so long that the
disciples can’t take it anymore. She is getting on their last collective nerve,
so they ask him to send her away. Please Jesus, send her away, so she’ll stop
shouting at us. Just make her stop.
But
Jesus won’t be swayed, and in response to his disciples’ plea, he says
something that would have devasted me if I had been in her place– it devastates
me to read it now at a relatively safe and comfortable distance – he says that
he has only come for the lost sheep of Israel. And though it is not said, it is
implied that this woman is not one of those lost sheep. But even this does not
put her off. This woman persists. She does not turn away. Instead she kneels
before him, again in a posture of worship and reverence, and utters only three
words,
“Lord,
help me.”
And when Jesus refuses even that
simple request, telling her that it is not fair to take the children’s food and
throw it to the dogs, she turns the table metaphor on him, saying,
“Yes, Lord, yet even the dogs eat
the crumbs that fall from their master’s table.”
So, who was this woman? She was a
Canaanite. She was an enemy. She was an Other. To so many people she would have
been a nobody, without status, without power. But she would not be consigned to
nobody status because she recognized Jesus and saw that there was something in
him, something about him, that could help her daughter. But who was she? We
will never know her specifics, but we do know one essential detail about her. She
was a mother.
She
was a mother. She was a mother with a daughter who was hurting and tormented. She
was a mother, and her child needed help, and she was clearly prepared to endure
whatever it took to get the help her daughter needed. She was a mother. And
across the world, in every culture, in every time, in every imaginable crisis,
mothers, and fathers, and parents of all kinds, will go looking for their
child, and they will do whatever they must to get the help their child needs. They
will go to whatever lengths it takes to find healing for their child, to
protect their child, to defend their child. This woman was a mother, and Jesus
could insult her if that’s what it took because she knew he could heal her
daughter.
In all of the ways that this woman
is a stranger, a foreigner, an outsider and an Other, she is also universal.
She is a mother with a sick child. She is the mother who demands answers and
fights for justice for her child. She is the mother who will put her child in a
boat because the sea has become safer than the land. She is the mother who will
not stop asking, pleading, persisting, and enduring if that will get her child
the help she needs. This foreign woman, this enemy woman is not so foreign
after all. She is every one of us who loves someone so much, that we will do
whatever it takes to get help for the one we love. She is a mother.
Now, what about Jesus?
I will not insult your intelligence
or mine by trying to soften or excuse away what he says in this story. He
insults this woman. There is no getting around it. Yes, it was a different
time, and yes, we are dealing with translations, and yes, in the original
Aramaic, maybe what he said would have a different meaning or carried a
different connotation. But we have to deal with what is before us, and what is
before is a Jesus who ignores this woman, who states categorically that he is
only there for the lost sheep of Israel, and who then compares her request for her
daughter to be healed to a dog getting the food that should have been given to
the children.
What really makes this so strange
and difficult is that in the verses preceding these, Jesus tells a group of
Pharisees who complain about Jesus’ disciples not following tradition and
washing their hands before they eat, that it is not what comes into us that
defiles us but what goes out of us, what comes out of our hearts and minds. And
then he and the disciples leave there and go into Tyre and Sidon. Tyre and
Sidon are gentile regions. If anything, Jesus and the disciples are now the
Others and the foreigners and the strangers. So, he tells the Pharisees that
what comes out of our hearts is what really defiles, and then he says terrible
things to a mother with a sick daughter. And he preaches about the lost sheep
of Israel in gentile land. None of it seems to make any sense.
In the past when I have preached on
this passage or its parallel in Mark, I have reached the conclusion that what
is happening in this story is that Jesus needs to learn. Jesus is fully human
which means that he is not immune to the biases and prejudices that we all
experience. So, in this story, we see Jesus learning. I still believe that is
true. I still think that this is a prime example of Jesus learning and growing
and maturing into his ministry and into himself.
But I think what Jesus learns is
much more than what I have understood in the past. I don’t think that this is
just Jesus learning when he is wrong, although that is part of it. I think that
this is Jesus learning that God lives in people we don’t expect. God dwells in
people we don’t like. God stares back at us from the eyes of people we consider
Other.
I think, I believe, that Jesus
finally looks into the eyes of this woman and sees not just a woman of Canaan
or an enemy or an Other, but he sees God. He sees every mother who is desperate
for her child. He sees every father who will plead for the life of his loved
one. After all, this is the Jesus who tells the story about a shepherd who will
leave 99 sheep to go looking for the one that is lost. This is the Jesus who
tells the story of a father who will not stop scanning the horizon looking for
his lost son.
This is the Jesus who makes a point
of eating with everyone that good society rejects. Which is what makes this
woman’s response about even the dogs eating crumbs from the master’s table so
profound. Because this is the Jesus who intentionally and frequently opens up
the table to the Others in this world. Jesus is the one who teaches us about
making room at the table for all. This woman puts that back on him by asking
that she be welcomed at the table too.
If you are going to make the table
open to all, then am I not included in that all? Do I not have a share in your
good news? Maybe that is the biggest lesson of this story. Jesus learns and
understands more completely that if the good news of the kingdom of God is
really good news, then it is good news for everyone. It is not just good news
for some, but for all. If it is really good news then it cannot be contained or
limited. It is for everyone – for you, for me, and for this mother and her
child. If the good news is truly good news, then it is good news for all. So,
yes, this woman’s faith was great. Jesus saw that great faith in her and he learned
from it. If the good news is good news, than it is good news for everyone. Jesus
learned and understood this in a new way through this woman. May we do the
same. Thanks be to God.
Let all of God’s children say,
“Alleluia.”
Amen.
