Sheep, Dogs, and Saving Faith

Introduction:
In the sermon text for today—the Gospel reading from Matthew chapter fifteen—we see Jesus doing what He does best; challenging the system. In a few verses of profound importance, Jesus expertly demonstrates who is truly in the Kingdom of God . . . and who is not. Exactly how He does that is something we’ll explore together.
Exposition:
Verse twenty-one says, “Leaving that place, Jesus withdrew to the region of Tyre and Sidon.”
Right off the bat we see there’s a need to fill in some context to this story, to get a little of the background. In preparing for this sermon, I read a lot of Leon Morris’ commentary on Matthew for this section, and I got some great insight from it. I’d like to share some of that with you. If we go backwards in chapter fifteen, we see a fairly common happening: A group of religious teachers called Pharisees have gathered around Jesus and are pestering him with questions. In this case, they are demanding to know why the disciples of Jesus didn’t follow something called “the tradition of the elders” and wash their hands before eating.
Now, the issue behind the handwashing is not cleanliness, but of following an accepted ritualistic practice. The “tradition of the elders” was not God’s Law, but an interpretation of God’s Law . . . an enlargement of the Law, even perhaps an exaggeration. In this case, the tradition demanded that a person’s hands must be ceremonially—again, not sanitarily, but ceremonially—clean before eating. The feeling was that the hands came in contact with numerous things throughout the day that could make them unclean, which simply means tainted by a sort of symbolic sinfulness. To have “unclean hands” meant that you were a sinner who had violated God’s law in some fashion.
The Pharisees were the group who were known for their exorbitant measures for the keeping of the Law. They were so intent upon keeping God’s Law that they had built up an elaborate system of religious traditions, and failure to follow those traditions to the very letter would result in sin. Therefore, the Pharisees considered it something like blasphemy to eat with unclean hands . . . there reasoning was that if the hands were unclean, the food they touched would become ceremonially unclean, and then when the food was eaten it would make the whole body unclean.
You could not be a good Jew and go around unclean! Being unclean would prohibit you from entering the Temple and offering sacrifices. Being unclean meant that you were cut off from the rest of the people; being unclean meant you were not a good Jew. Riff-raff were unclean. Pagans were unclean. Gentiles were unclean. But for the Pharisees, the defining element in being a Jew was keeping the Law and the Traditions. Without keeping the law, without being clean, they felt that you could not be a Jew, one of God’s chosen people. The Pharisees trusted in the traditions to keep them clean.
Jesus, however, recognizes that what people need is not more religious traditions . . . following tradition is not the same thing as having faith. And so in verse seventeen we see Jesus boldly asserting to His disciples that it is not what goes in the mouth that makes a person unclean, but what comes out of it! The Pharisees insisted that eating unclean food made a person unclean, but Jesus says—in a rather earthy way!—that what goes into the mouth does nothing but eventually go back out of the body, understand? But by contrast, what comes out of a person’s mouth has it’s beginnings in the heart. If a person’s mouth is spewing out nasty things, it’s because their heart is overflowing with evil thoughts. The Pharisees looked to their Jewish identity and traditions to make them right before God. But Jesus insists that it is the heart, and not keeping a Jewish tradition, that determines if a person is “clean” in the sight of God or not.
That is the background for the reading.
In verse twenty-two we read, “A Canaanite woman from that vicinity came to him, crying out, "Lord, Son of David, have mercy on me! My daughter is suffering terribly from demon-possession."
The woman that approaches Jesus is, as Matthew says, a Canaanite and not a Jew, which isn’t surprising, because Jesus has traveled outside of Jewish territory. He’s north of Judea, north of Samaria, north of Galilee, even, and into the region of Syria. He’s a Jewish teacher heading into Gentile lands, and so He happens across a Gentile woman. That’s no big deal, it’s kind of what we’d expect.
But the fascinating thing is that this woman—this Gentile woman—knows of Jesus, and what’s more, calls Him by a Jewish title! She comes to find Jesus and calls out to Him, “Lord, Son of David, have mercy on me!” “Son of David” is what we might call a Messianic Title, a title that the scholar Leon Morris says indicates that this Gentile woman believes that Jesus is the Messiah, the Promised One, the Savior. You’d think that would be something of a surprise to Jesus, or at the very least to the Disciples. I personally would expect about anything to happen next except for the thing that actually does . . .

Verse twenty three: “Jesus did not answer a word. So his disciples came to him and urged him, "Send her away, for she keeps crying out after us."”

This is so odd . . . Jesus doesn’t say a thing! The Greek suggests that the woman is literally “continually crying out,” she’s asking and asking and not letting up, and still Jesus doesn’t even answer her? Is that unusual? Not if you remember from last week the reasons why God may not answer a prayer—but this woman meets the first three reasons: she has faith, she is asking, she is broken and humble . . . and yet Jesus Himself is apparently ignoring her. Why? Because He is already at work in her life, drawing her confession of faith out of her, answering her prayer. She just can’t see it yet.

Verse 24: He answered, "I was sent only to the lost sheep of Israel." 25 The woman came and knelt before him. "Lord, help me!" she said.

Jesus’ reply is not to the woman, but to the disciples, who had asked him to do something, anything to get rid of the woman. But Jesus’ answer is not to get rid of the woman . . . but to test her.
Yes, it is true that Jesus was sent to Israel, that the Good Shepherd’s earthly ministry was to seek out His lost sheep and bring them back to the fold; The sheep—Israel—are the main focus of His earthly mission, and He says so out loud. But that doesn’t stop the woman. Whether she heard Jesus or not, I don’t know, but in any case she finally comes right up to Him and begs for help. I think she’s onto something: she knows enough to see that Jesus is the Messiah, and I believe she recognizes that, even though Jesus’ earthly ministry is for the sheep—for Israel—that He traveled all the way up into Gentile country for a reason. Despite what the fact that her eyes and ears tell her that Jesus is ignoring her, it is her faith that is pushing her forward.

26 He replied, "It is not right to take the children's bread and toss it to their dogs."
OUCH! The first thing Jesus says to her, and He puts her on the same level as a dog sitting underneath the dining room table. He says that it would be wrong to take the good things that God has prepared for the children—in other words, for Israel, for the sheep—and give them away to dogs; Gentile dogs that don’t have the Law, they don’t know the traditions . . . and therefore they are the people whom the Pharisees from earlier in the chapter would say God isn’t interested in. They’d say dogs—Gentiles—just don’t belong among God’s people.
But see what Jesus is doing: He’s not pushing her away, but drawing her closer in. Jesus has already made it clear earlier in the chapter that it’s not outward actions, that it’s not rituals or Jewish traditions that make a person part of God’s family . . . but it’s what’s in the heart that matters. So He challenges her, saying, “I’m here for the lost sheep of Israel” . . . and still she comes in a bit closer. And then He says, “I can’t help you, it would be like giving the children’s food to the dogs” . . and still she comes in a bit closer. Knowing she doesn’t deserve anything from Jesus, knowing that she can’t claim a Jewish ancestry, knowing that she has to rely utterly and totally upon His mercy, but still knowing that Jesus has come to her . . . what’s in her heart pushes her closer to Jesus, she makes the final step and, in faith, she risks it all, saying in verse twenty-seven, "Yes, Lord," she said, "but even the dogs eat the crumbs that fall from their masters' table."
WOW! She doesn’t even bat an eye, but she says to Jesus, “Yes, Lord, you have your work to do among the sheep, the children of Israel, I know that . . . but I also know that that work will spill over, it will overflow and bless us Gentiles as well . . .even if we are just dogs in the eyes of some. Now Lord, in your mercy, please help me.”
And THAT’S what Jesus was waiting for. There, in front of His disciples, a Gentile has professed her faith in the person and work of Jesus Christ. She knows what He is about, she knows whom He came to serve, and the faith in her heart has poured out of her mouth. Jesus has made His point, and so He answers,

Verse twenty-eight: “Then Jesus answered, "Woman, you have great faith! Your request is granted." And her daughter was healed from that very hour.”
I’d like to draw your attention to what Jesus didn’t say. He didn’t say, “Woman, you are really persistent!” He didn’t say, “Woman, you have tremendous humility!” There’s only one thing that He chooses to praise in this Gentile woman, and that is her faith. He has tested her, He has seen that she believes in Him, that she trusts in Him despite what her eyes and ears tell her is going on, and He grants her request, healing her daughter immediately.
Interpretation:

There are three major players in this episode, can you guess who they are? Jesus, the Canaanite woman . . . and the context. Matthew has set up this whole chapter very carefully, he’s trying to tell us something very important about Jesus, about what He came to do . . . about who He came here for.
You see what’s happened in this chapter? Matthew has made a very pointed argument that salvation was never intended for the Jews alone . . . but that it was part of God’s plan all along to include the Gentiles in His Kingdom, as well. In recording Jesus’ words and actions, Matthew emphasizes that the offer of salvation is not found in observing tradition, it is not found in ancestry, it is not found in having an external Jewish identity, but through an internal cleanness that comes from having a heart full of faith. Therefore, the offer of salvation in Jesus Christ is open to any and all who would believe in Him. It doesn’t matter if they are Jew or Gentile, and it doesn’t matter what the Pharisees think. If a person believes in Jesus Christ, if they look to Him for their life and salvation, then they have all that they need.
Application

We’ve talked about quite a bit this morning. What are you going to take home with you? What truth from God’s Word are you going to apply to your life this week?
As for me; I realized two things this week as I worked on this sermon. There are two truths I want to apply to my life. The first truth is that I don’t want to be a Pharisee. Like many of you, I’ve grown up in the church; I’ve lived my entire life learning the church’s rituals, adhering to the church’s traditions. I became a church person, and most of my friends have been church people. There’s a blessing in that, because I realize there’s never been a time in my life when I didn’t have God working in my life through His church.
But there’s also a danger. The danger is that I could become a Pharisee; I could become a person who believes that church people are the only people God is interested in. I could become a Pharisee, and say that if you don’t know the rituals, if you don’t know the traditions—if you don’t dress like a church person, or talk like a church person . . . or act like a church person . . . then God isn’t interested in you. See, if I start to see myself as one of God’s sheep and all the non-church people as being just dogs, then I’m going to shut myself off from them, I’m going to believe that I am superior to them. When those dogs come to church, I’d turn up my nose and scoff. I’d mock them with my fellow Pharisees . . . “Did you see how they dressed? Don’t they know that this is the house of the Lord? Don’t they know how WE do things here? If they’re not going to be like one of us, then they shouldn’t even be here.” That’s what I’d say if I was a Pharisee.
I don’t ever want to become that, I don’t ever want to become a person who’d rather see people die and go to Hell rather than see them come into church and change the way I’m accustomed to church looking. And the reason I don’t want to become that is because I’d lose hold of the second great truth that I need to apply to my life from today’s lesson. I’d lose hold of the truth that I am just a Gentile dog. I don’t deserve even table scraps from God . . . and still He gives me His good gifts, pouring His Spirit upon me, planting faith into my heart so that I can come before Him knowing I don’t deserve anything from Jesus, knowing that I can’t claim a Jewish ancestry, knowing that I have to rely utterly and totally upon His mercy, but still knowing that Jesus has come to me; that, for some reason, God has chosen me—a dog—to be one of His children.
That’s the difference between the two; the difference between becoming a Pharisee and being a dog. As a Pharisee I’d still have my pride, but everyone else around me would be going to Hell because of it. But a Pharisee just wouldn’t care. I’d have my pride . . . but I would have lost my God.
But as a dog? As a dog I might not have pride . . . it’s kind of hard to have pride when you realize that you must beg for mercy . . . but I’d have something better: I’d have grace. . That’s the funny thing—you don’t care much about your pride anymore when grace has gotten a hold of you. I’d have faith—true faith—in Christ. I’d have a real relationship with God. And as a dog, I’d realize that I wouldn’t have anything to lose when some other dogs came into church. They couldn’t mess up the place any worse than I have . . . and God would have a place for them, too, just like He did for me . . . and just like He does for you.