PROPER 15, YEAR A

Sunday, August 16, 2026

Sts. Matthew & Mark, Barrington, R. I.

 

Matthew 15:21-28

 

Over the past 20 to 30 years, a certain type of sermon on today’s Gospel has become common in mainline liberal churches. First, the preacher wrestles with our Lord’s apparent rudeness toward the Canaanite woman—as he initially gives her the cold shoulder by refusing to speak to her and then insults her by likening her and her daughter to dogs. 

 

The preacher typically asserts that, through her persistence and cleverness, the Canaanite woman gives Jesus his comeuppance and teaches him a much-needed lesson. He then realizes his mistake and resolves to be more open and inclusive. Such sermons conclude that, if Jesus could thus learn from his mistakes, we should do the same and become more inclusive and welcoming to outsiders ourselves.

 

While inclusivity and hospitality are real virtues, I can’t help thinking that this interpretation misses the heart of what’s really going on in this story. We need to go deeper. So I’d like to propose an alternative interpretation.

Jesus has just crossed Israel’s northern border into Gentile territory, now southern Lebanon. “Just then, a Canaanite woman from that region came out …” Some scholars argue that Matthew introduces an anachronism here, since the biblical Canaanites had disappeared centuries earlier. But recent DNA evidence suggests that the present-day inhabitants of Lebanon are ninety percent descended from the Canaanites. So Matthew’s description of her may be accurate after all.

 

The Canaanites were Israel’s mortal enemies. They were believed to be descended from Noah’s grandson Canaan, whom God cursed for his sins. When Joshua led the Israelites into the Promised Land, God gave them strict instructions to drive the Canaanites out completely. Yet the Canaanites were a fierce, warlike people, not easily subdued. Even after the Conquest, pockets of Canaanites remained among the Israelites, constantly tempting them into idolatry and disobedience.

 

Matthew is making the point that this woman belongs to an ancient enemy of the Jewish people. When she cries out to Jesus to heal her demon-possessed daughter, Jesus initially remains silent. They’ve presumably come north to get away and get some rest. And when the disciples beg him to send her away, he declares, “I was sent only to the lost sheep of the House of Israel.” 

 

In the Bible, the term “lost sheep” can mean one of two things. First, it can refer to the so-called “lost tribes,” who’ve been exiled and scattered to the four corners of the earth. The Old Testament prophets foretold that the Messiah would regather these lost sheep and bring them back to the land of Israel. Second, it can refer to the Jewish inhabitants of the land itself, whom Jesus elsewhere describes as harassed and helpless, like sheep without a shepherd. 

 

Either way, Jesus’ statement, “I was sent only to the lost sheep of the house of Israel,” accurately reflects his understanding of his earthly ministry. Earlier, he sent his disciples out into the towns and villages of Galilee, instructing them: “Go nowhere among the Gentiles, and enter no town of the Samaritans, but go rather to the lost sheep of the house of Israel.” The mission to the Gentiles will come later, after his Resurrection. For now, his ministry is directed to Israel. 

 

Notice that when the disciples beg Jesus to send the woman away, they almost certainly want him to do the one thing that will make her go away, namely heal her daughter—because she’s making such a nuisance of herself and they want to be rid of her. But that’s the one thing he knows he cannot do. Immediately granting the disciples’ request would only reinforce their prejudices. So his statement, “I was sent only to the lost sheep of the house of Israel,” is likely a stalling tactic. Before healing the daughter, he wants to give the woman an opportunity to demonstrate her faith, because the disciples need to see it.

 

When she persists, kneeling before Jesus and crying, “Lord, help me,” he utters the infamous words, “It is not fair to take the children’s food and throw it to the dogs.” The insult is slightly mitigated by Matthew’s use of a Greek word for dogs that denotes domesticated household pets rather than wild, scavenging canines. Still, it’s clearly an insult, aimed not at the woman and her daughter as individuals but at the Canaanites as a group and, by extension, at all Gentiles. In those days, Jews often referred to Gentiles as dogs because they considered both dogs and Gentiles ritually unclean and impure.

 

Here again, I think Jesus is deliberately testing the woman, provoking her to see whether she’ll give up or persevere. So often, though, that’s how God responds to our prayers. We ask for something, and he remains silent or seems to say no. The test is whether we’ll give up or persevere. In virtually all cases, he wants us to persist, to stay engaged, even to argue with him—anything as long as we don’t give up and walk away.

 

The Canaanite woman rises to the occasion splendidly. Her answer, “Yes, Lord, yet even the dogs eat the crumbs that fall from their master’s table,” is not only clever and witty but also makes a profound point. She clearly understands that the purpose of Jesus’ mission to Israel is to enable Israel to fulfill its God-given vocation to be a light to the nations and to lay the groundwork for the Church’s mission to the world. In the end, all will be fed, but each in their own order: first Israel, then the Gentiles.

 

Our Lord’s response, “Woman, great is your faith! Let it be done for you as you wish,” echoes his words to the Roman centurion who sought healing for his servant: “Truly, I say to you, not even in Israel have I found such faith!” I tell you, many will come from east and west and sit at table with Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob in the kingdom of heaven ...” That’s precisely the lesson Jesus wanted the disciples to learn from the Canaanite woman’s persistence.

 

What forever changed the way I read this Gospel was the portrayal of the Canaanite woman by certain early Christian writers as a symbolic figure, an archetype: the mother of the Gentiles approaching the Lord on behalf of the nations, possessed by the demons of idolatry and wickedness. Some even go so far as to describe her as a figure of the Gentile Church, fed by the crumbs that fall from Israel’s table. 

 

Our initial temptation when we read this Gospel is to identify with Jesus and his disciples and to draw out a message about being more accepting and inclusive of outsiders. But the story’s real force hits us when we realize that the outsiders are us. We’re not the ones to grant or withhold inclusion. We’re the ones who need to be included. We’re the daughter in need of healing. The Canaanite woman is the loving mother pleading for our salvation. And Jesus will grant us whatever we truly need precisely through the faith of our Holy Mother, the Church.