Was Jesus Being Exclusionary?
Several weeks ago, Mark Gordon reflected on the uncomfortable dilemma faced by distant readers who find, in Matthew 15:21-28, a Jesus who refuses to act, who associates Gentiles with ‘dogs,’ and who implies that Gentiles can expect no consideration from him.
What do we make of Jesus’ encounter with the unnamed Canaanite woman? Must perceptions of Jesus be adjusted to accommodate the fact that he too could, like his contemporaries, be exclusionary? Or is the problem ours? Are we too quick to impose a contemporary and “odious connotation” of dogs onto a first century text? I have encountered the suggestion that given the parallels between Jesus’ words and Cynic philosophy, and given the positive esteem in which dogs were held by Cynics, what is really happening here is Jesus is recognizing that he is in the presence of a Cynic disciple. Still others suggest the conversation owes its existence to the imagination of its inventor.
Within a Catholic context, these questions can be asked, and these suggestions can be made (although the Cynic interpretation, from a scholarly point of view, is not one I would entertain). A reader here, using the name Francisco for commenting purposes, suggests that Jesus “did something wrong, realized he was wrong and changed.”
Being wrong, Francisco understands, and sinning, need not be identical. The Gospel of Luke states that the twelve year old Jesus “increased in wisdom, in stature…” after returning to Nazareth with Mary and Joseph. Might Jesus’ encounter with the Canaanite woman have been one of those occasions where, as an adult, Jesus experienced development? As Jesus was discerning God’s will in his own life, and discerning the direction in which he was being called, is it possible that this occasion with the Canaanite woman served to broaden Jesus’ own understanding of who he was being called towards?
These are legitimate questions for reflection, and such reflection can occur in a Catholic context. Ultimately, however, I don’t know that we can answer such questions. Although the understandable concern of the distant reader is not really resolved, R.T. France argues that the story must be read as a whole, and when this is done, one finds Jesus doing what the woman requests. The Canaanite woman, France notes, in refusing to “accept the traditional Jewish exclusion of Gentiles from the grace of God, has shown a truly prophetic grasp of the new perspective of the kingdom of heaven,” and she is commended by Jesus in strong terms.
Strong parallels exist between this narrative and Jesus’ encounter with the Centurion (Mt. 8:5-13). In both, the request comes from a concerned Gentile (and not the victim of the sickness or possession [Mt. 8:5; 15:22]). In each narrative there exists what could be an initial show of reluctance by Jesus (Mt. 8:7; 15:24, 26). In each narrative, the faith of the supplicant is commended more highly than that of any Jew, and in each case (and only in these two cases) the cure takes place by a word from a distance.
While the precise origin and intention of Jesus’ peculiar words are not apparent to me, the Gospel author communicates that Jews and Gentiles are a part of God’s plan of salvation. God’s plan is characterized by its inclusivity. Would contemporary persons recognize our own communication of Christ as being similarly characterized?
K.
Kelly Wilson is a Seminarian for the Archdiocese of Winnipeg. Besides Vox Nova, he writes at his blog Musings.
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