O Woman, Great is Your Faith

The encounter between Jesus and the Canaanite woman is at once powerful and instructive. It belongs to the spiritual pilgrimage of Lent and to the journey of education. Three words illuminate its power and meaning: faith, humility, and perseverance. At first glance it is a disturbing story but one which ultimately turns on the idea of self-criticism; a criticism of the assumption that we can constrain or limit God to our little groups and identities. Self-criticism is a feature of the religions and philosophies of the world.

 

This is highlighted here by the setting. Jesus departs “into the coasts of Tyre and Sidon” even as she comes out of that land of the Gentiles. She is a Canaanite, meaning that she is a non-Israelite. She sees something universal in Jesus that transcends the limitations of any one culture. It is an insight into the infinite mercies of God that arises out of the context of her finite situation and concerns. “Have mercy on me, O Lord, thou Son of David,” she says. But her concern is not simply for herself. “My daughter is grievously vexed with a devil,” deeply troubled in mind and soul. The troubles of the daughter are the worries of the mother; they always are.

 

I cannot think of this story without being reminded of “The Sorrow Songs” in W.E.B Dubois’ great classic, “The Souls of Black Folks, “written in 1903. Dubois was a seminal figure in the Afro-American world and notes that these folk songs are “the most beautiful expression of human experience born this side the seas” … “the singular spiritual heritage of the nation and the greatest gift” of the Afro-American spirit. The Sorrow Songs are an important feature of his work for they give expression to the experiences of the Afro-Americans under slavery and yet reveals that “through the sorrow of the Sorrow Songs there breathes hope – a faith in the ultimate justice of things.” This is exactly what we see in this remarkable woman. She has faith in what she sees in Christ that enables her to face all that is thrown at her: silence, rebuke, and rejection. She has a faith in the ultimate justice of Jesus which is the infinite mercy of God.

 

Like the Sorrow Songs, we see in her a kind of “soul-hunger,” “an infinite longing for peace,” a yearning for “some unseen power and sign for rest in the End.”

 

But what a troubling scene. First, Jesus “answered her not a word.” Then, the disciples beseech him to “send her away,” as if to say she doesn’t matter; she is not one of us, she doesn’t belong. “I am not sent,” Jesus says, “but unto the lost sheep of the house of Israel” as if to highlight this perspective of the disciples. As if God and the goodness of his will could be so constrained! She knows differently and knows that what she seeks for her daughter and herself cannot be achieved through any kind of human power and technique. Because she has a hold of the infinite mercy of God in humility, she “knelt before him.” It is not a gesture of self-abasement or of manipulation but an honest recognition of the finite limitations that belong to the human condition. “Lord, help me,” she says. Simple words, not a plaintive cry. Her words are not the whinge of “I can’t do this” which really means “I won’t even try.” They are not the whine of “the poor me’s” which is only about calling attention to ourselves as if we were the centre of everything. We aren’t.

 

What Jesus says next must seem even more disturbing. A kind of insult? “It is not right to take the children’s bread and to cast it to dogs,” he says. Wow. But this too is part of the critique of a kind of religious attitude. He is stating the assumption that separates one set of peoples from others, the assumption of the disciples and one aspect of the culture of the Hebrews. The children’s bread is a reference to God’s provisions for Israel. The image of dogs refers to the Gentiles, to non-Israelites as a derogatory term. Her response to this is the breakthrough moment, the revelation of the insight of faith, the truth of her humble wisdom, and the testament to her tenacity and perseverance. “Truth, Lord; yet the little dogs eat of the crumbs which fall from their masters’ table.” Amazing.

 

The dialogue draws out of her what she truly seeks and what she truly knows in Christ. This is what is wanted to be drawn out of her so that the disciples can see in stark terms that what God seeks he seeks for all. God cannot be constrained to our finite imaginations and the ways we separate ourselves for one another. She has a hold of something universal, indeed, for the whole of creation, even “the little dogs eat of the crumbs which fall from their masters’ table.” The little dogs, too, find their place under the sacred canopy of God’s good Providence.

 

But it has to be looked for and sought after. It can’t be taken for granted. Here in this non-Israelite woman we have the true picture paradoxically of what it means to be an Israelite, “one who wrestles with God.” Which is what she does. She breaks into the heart of God in Christ because God wills that we should do so. It means faith, humility, and perseverance just as students come to school on the faith that there is something to be learned only to discover that the more you learn the more you realise that there is so much more to be learned! It is that realisation that prompts the quest for wisdom and requires humility and perseverance on our part.

 

The whole story reminds me not only of the Sorrow Songs of Afro-American culture. It also reminds me of the humble wisdom of Armand Gamache in the Canadian detective mystery novels of Louise Penny, such as in “The Madness of Crowds” (2021): “‘I’m sorry’. ‘I was wrong.’ ‘I don’t know.’” and ‘I need help’”.

 

Faith, humility, and perseverance are the qualities that belong to our spiritual pilgrimage and the journey of education. All wonderfully concentrated in the story of this remarkable and strong woman. “O woman, great is thy faith; be it unto thee even as thou wilt”.