Surrounding this house and its property was an ornate fence of wrought iron. It stood taller than a man and beheld enough beauty of its own to prompt passersby to admire it. Between its twisting bars, one could plainly see all of the comings and goings of the fortunate souls who were permitted entry through the gate and allowed to partake of the master's generosity.
During the course of many years, hundreds of those who belonged inside entered through the gate but there were millions who could only stand outside and wonder what it was like within. Over time, some on the outside grew jealous. They spat in the dirt and shook their fist at the gate as if anyone inside would be moved by such a display. Most on the outside however, simply walked away and carried on with their little lives in their little houses inside their own humble little gates.
One day the master of the very large house received a very important visitor. The visitor, a skilled physician, was long awaited and highly anticipated. However, the good doctor was outspoken in his positions, stirring up the anger of the most prominent of the privileged guests. They harrumphed and turn on their heels and stomped outside upon his arrival. Unwilling to depart completely from the safety and comfort of the gate, they sat in the manicured grass outside and pouted.
This created such a foofaraw that many on the outside returned to the gate with fascination to see what would happen next. They wrapped their fingers around the iron work and craned their necks to see. They were slightly disappointed to see the unflappable physician wave good-bye to the ones who didn't want his company and return quietly to the party that was being thrown in his honor.
Later, no one would recall quite how it happened: that a poor woman from the outside came to enter into the house. It was surmised that she slunk in through a secret passageway for there she stood in the opulent foyer where she clearly did not belong. And then, in front of an audience of shocked onlookers, she stooped down and knelt in front of the doctor. She proceeded to lower herself until she was prostrate on the floor at his feet. Hushed whispers made their way round the room about the condition of the floor and the condition of her soul, that she would humiliate herself so.
"Good doctor," she whispered in a trembling voice, stretching out her fingers and then curling them into her fists, as if she wanted to touch his feet but thought better of it. "Your skill is renown throughout the land. I am in desperate need of your services. You see, my daughter is very ill. In fact, she is on death's door. Please. Can you help her?" When no response was made, she whimpered, letting her tears fall on the expensive tiles beneath her.
Finally, those who were closest to the doctor spoke, urging him to send her away. Her begging and whining, they said, was bothering them and spoiling the mood of the party that was, if he needed to be reminded, in his honor.
"I beg of you, Doctor," she said, ignoring them. "You alone can save her."
"Woman," the doctor said. "How can I help you when I came here to give my services to the people who belong in this house? It is not right for you to take the food from the children's table and give it to the dogs."
Though everyone thought it, no one expected him to say it out loud. His friends became angry that he would allow himself to be put in this uncomfortable position. They knew him well enough to know he preferred to err on the side of compassion. Furthermore, they did not mind doing his dirty work; keeping the riffraff who constantly flocked to him, soiling the hem of his garments in their undignified posturing, at bay. It was nothing personal. He wasn't here for them.
What they did not understand was that his response was as much for them as it was for her, for they would learn volumes from watching what she did next.
She did not become angry or indignant, as she surely would have been justified in doing after being compared to a dog and the act of saving her daughter as being the food fit for dogs. Nor did she shrink away from him and retreat from the house with what modicum of dignity she might have retained after this pathetic show.
She raised her head slightly and said, "What you say is true, Sir. I do not deserve your kindness. But even the dogs under the table are allowed to eat the scraps from the children's plates."
It was painful to watch. Again, the doctor's friends urged him to send her away, reassuring him that he was not wrong to do so. He silenced them with a mere look and bent down to the woman, took her hand in his, and helped her to her feet. "Good answer," he said. "I will be glad to help you."
And with that, the two departed as if they were old chums reconciled, leaving the mouths of his friends agape with incredulity.
This parable retelling of Mark 7:24-29 and Matthew 15:21-28 attempts to make sense of the one time in scripture when Jesus comes off as a bit of an insensitive jerk. Yes, I said it. Mark and Matthew recorded these events as they happened whether they understood them or not. To me, this story that describes for us the first non-Jewish convert in Jesus' ministry, is a stark reminder to every single Christian alive today that He owes us nothing. We are not entitled to His grace, or even a split-second of His attention, and we have done nothing worthwhile to deserve it. The woman in this story knew she was undeserving and yet she came to him because she was suffering. How many of us today approach Jesus because we are hurting and desperate for hope? Thank God for the blessing of affliction, which prompts us to move when we might otherwise stay at home to wallow in our sadness. That He stoops down to us in our darkest places and invites us to His table should bring us to fall on our faces before Him. Never doubt His goodness.
"You do not desire a sacrifice, or I would offer one.
You do not want a burnt offering.
The sacrifice you desire is a broken spirit.
You will not reject a broken and repentant heart, O God."
Psalm 51:16-17
