Like the woman of Samaria the mother from Canaan whose story Matthew and Mark have preserved for us was a foreigner. Tradition calls her Justa and names her daughter Bernice. One scholar describes her as "by language a Greek, by nationality a Canaanite, and by residence a Syro-Phoenician." So, too, she was probably Greek by religion. Coming from the Phoenician coast as she did she was very likely a member of a seafaring family.

I

More to the point, however, the woman belonged to a race the Jews held accursed. And well they might have been. To be sure, the prophet Zechariah had foretold the day the Canaanites would become "like a clan in Judah." (Zechariah 9:7) But up until Jesus' time there had been no such lifting of the barriers between the two peoples.

Nor was there likely to be. For Canaan was a hotbed of religious cults given to fertility rites and snake worship. So, too, practicing black magic, it equipped its altars with sensual figures and made religious prostitutes an established order. All of which the Jews regarded as blasphemy of the most flagrant kind. Consequently, it was more than they could countenance and as a result feelings ran high between the two countries.

Yet despite the long-strained relations such conditions had spawned the woman never hesitated to show her faith in Jesus publicly by appealing openly to him to heal her child of an "unclean spirit" -- perhaps epilepsy.

II

Neither of our two New Testament evangelists tells us anything about the woman beyond her plight and her plea. However, her approach to the Master is in itself revealing.

Despite the fact the woman was a foreigner she already knew a great deal about Jesus. Nor is it surprising that she did. For her native land was the geographical center of the New Testament world. Consequently caravans were constantly crossing its borders with news of what was happening in Palestine. Thus, like many among her neighbors, she must have followed with profound interest reports they brought of the Master's activities. As a result, while many of her friends had come to hold what one writer terms a "half-interest" in Jesus as the Messiah, to the concerned mother he was the embodiment of God's love in the world. Now that he was standing in the shadow of Tyre's smoking chimneys she would attest that conviction by publicly seeking his help for her daughter.

The depth of the woman's confidence is evident in the manner in which she addressed Jesus on catching up with him. For unlike the Master's first two disciples whom John the Baptist had directed to him she did not call him "rabbi." (John 1:38) Instead, she called him "Lord" and "Son of David" (Matthew 15:22) -- titles distinctive of the true Messiah. It was a striking witness, spontaneously made; and those standing by could not have missed its significance reflecting as it did more faith than his own people were displaying.

III

Having thus openly acknowledged Jesus as the long-awaited Messiah the woman proceeded to plead her daughter's case. To her dismay Jesus turned a deaf ear to her. (Matthew 15:23) He who had volunteered to heal a woman so badly crippled that she could not walk upright (Luke 10:10-13) was now standing unmoved before a mother holding up to him the affliction of her child.

Compounding matters still further the disciples came up

as the woman was making her appeal and, sizing up the situation, they urged Jesus to send the woman away lest she become troublesome to them all.

Some, recalling the mandate Jesus had delivered to the Twelve as he dispatched them on a missionary journey, (Matthew 10:5-6) think he reacted to the woman's appeal in the manner he did because she was not an Israelite. But the Master loved children and wanted only the best for them. (cf. Matthew 18:16; 19:13-15) So there must have been some other reason for his seeming insensitivity.

And there was.

Jesus was trying to keep a low profile in Canaan. Let word of what he was doing get back to Jerusalem and it could spell disaster for him. For not only had he incurred the wrath of Herod Antipas, thus facing the threat of suffering the same fate as the Tetrarch had meted out to John the Baptist; he had likewise experienced a bitter encounter with a delegation Israel's hierarchy had sent to grill him on his teachings and practices. (Matthew 15:1-8) It had been a trying ordeal, and he desperately felt the need to get away for a while. So he had withdrawn to the relative safety of Tyre and Sidon seeking a respite. (Matthew 15:21) Quite understandably he did not want to do anything that might attract attention to his whereabouts lest his enemies track him down and put a violent end to his mission.

As a result of all this Jesus was emotionally drained, as his disciples apparently realized. For knowing how each of his mighty works depleted his strength, (cf. Mark 5:30) and familiar with the stress under which he was laboring, they urged him to send the woman away. (Matthew 15:23)

The woman refused to go, however, her very persistence a public testimony to the strong faith she had in the Master. Accordingly, instead of quietly withdrawing as the disciples were urging her to do she followed the little band wherever they went, the earnestness of her petition a continuing witness to her faith in the compassion and power of Jesus.

IV

How long the woman pressed her appeal we have no way of knowing. But one thing is certain. Not only did she believe in the Master's ability to heal her daughter, she was determined to persist until he did. Moreover, she did so without once asking Jesus to divert his steps to the house where her child lay. So far as she was concerned all that mattered was for him to give his word.

Yet still Jesus demurred, his mission to the Jews very much on his mind. "It's not fair to take the children's bread and throw it to the dogs," he said, finally turning to the woman in recognition of her appeal. (Matthew 15:26) It was an answer the woman understood since she was undoubtedly familiar with some of the rabbinical sayings that applied the term "dog" to Gentiles. Nor did she take offense at it, recognizing that he was employing the word figuratively; for the form in which he was using it conjured up the picture of pets circling a table at mealtime in quest of morsels.

It was not that Jesus lacked compassion for Gentiles. It was rather that as the Prince of the House of David he envisioned his mission to Israel as his primary responsibility, (cf. Isaiah 56:7; Mark 11:17) and he must fulfill that responsibility at all costs. Thus, trying as the moment was for the woman, it was not an easy one for the Master either, caught as he was between the woman's persistent petitioning and his heavenly mandate. Or to put it another way, on the one hand he faced the need of an individual, on the other the salvation of a people. And always in the background there were those waiting to trap him.

But the woman refused to be silenced. For as Frederick Farrar expressed it in a day now long since gone, "not all the snows of her native Lebanon could quench the fire of love burning on the altar of her heart." Her child lay desperately ill, and the distraught mother simply refused to believe that he who gathered little children about his feet to bless them would deny her request. (Matthew 19:13-14)

Accordingly, the woman pressed her plea, adroitly employing Jesus' own figure of speech to do so. "Yes, Lord," she replied, "yet even the dogs eat the crumbs that fall from their Master's table." (Matthew 15:27) How deftly she had matched his metaphor! For she was putting human need above race and nationality.

V

Instantly the woman's reply struck a chord with Jesus, for in effect she was anticipating Peter's declaration to Cornelius that God shows no partiality. (Acts 10:34) And that being so "no case is too desperate for prayer."

It was a conviction Jesus confirmed forthwith. "O woman," he said in a voice all within earshot could clearly hear, "great is your faith: be it unto you as you will." (Matthew 15:28) And the girl was whole again.

Unwavering faith had prevailed. Moreover, it had done so in a very important way. For one thing it had broken down the barrier of a specified point of origin. From now on what mattered was not where one came from but what one needed to experience the fullness of life. For another thing it had broken down distinctions of race and class, giving new emphasis to Ezekiel's affirmation that all souls are God's. (Ezekiel 18:4) Above all, it had lifted up the assurance that whosoever will may come to the throne of grace. (Revelation 21:17)

Who can doubt that in days to come this mother from Canaan never tired of telling anyone who would listen about her ill daughter and the man from Galilee who gave her child a new lease on life? (Mark 7:30)