Driven perhaps to the very borders of despondency, and yet unwilling to relinquish every hope, this agonizing mother again rushed forward, prostrated herself at the Saviour's feet, and with impetuous zeal earnestly cried out, "Lord, help me!" She seemed reduced to the last extremity; and yet, like Esther, who resolved to go in to the king, whether she perished or not, and like Jonah, tossing about amongst the waves of the ocean, determining "to look again towards the holy temple of Jehovah," she ventured to renew her application, and in language implying her conviction of his ability, and a glimmering hope of his willingness, she does not merely say, "Lord, deign some answer--even if it be a refusal," but "Lord, help me!" She was vigorous in faith. She "laid hold of the horns of the altar"--she "cleaved to the Lord with full purpose of heart." Reader, what shall we say?--"Go thou and do likewise."
Her entreaties obtain an answer, Jesus turns to address the suppliant. He is no longer deaf to her petitions or blind to her tears. Her throbbing heart beats with unutterable emotion, and at that glad moment she is all ear to the long-sought reply. "Who now can expect other than a fair and yielding answer to so humble, so faithful, so patient a suppliant? What can speed well, if a prayer of faith from the knees of humility succeeds not? And yet behold, the further she goes the worse she fares: her discouragement is doubled with her suit. 'It is not meet to take the children's bread and to cast it to dogs.' First, his silence implied a contempt, then his answer defended his silence; now his speech expresses and defends his contempt. Lo, he hath turned her from a woman to a dog, and, as it were, spurns her from his feet with a harsh repulse. What shall we say?--Is the Lamb of God turned lion? Doth that clear fountain of mercy run blood? O Saviour, did ever so hard a word fall from those mild lips? Thou calledst Herod fox--most worthily, he was crafty and wicked; the Scribes and Pharisees a generation of vipers, they were venomous and cruel; Judas a devil, he was both covetous and treacherous. But here was a woman in distress, and distress challenges mercy; a good woman, a faithful suppliant, a Canaanitish disciple, a Christian Canaanite, yet rated and whipped out for a dog by thee who wert all goodness and mercy! How different are thy ways from ours! Even thy severity argues favour. The trial had not been so sharp if thou hadst not found the faith so strong, if thou hadst not meant the issue so happy. Thou hadst not driven her away as a dog, if thou hadst not intended to admit her for a saint; and to advance her so much for a pattern of faith, as thou depressedst her for a spectacle of contempt." [[36]]
In nothing is the preposterous arrogance of mankind more apparent than in the violence of their national antipathies. Did not the history of all ages and countries furnish an ample catalogue of opprobrious epithets, which they have not scrupled to bestow upon each other, we might wonder that the Jews should have accustomed themselves to speak so contemptuously of others as to call them dogs. Owing to the natural propensity of human nature to villify and degrade, the vocabularies of all languages have been swelled with such odious terms; and till the principles of the Gospel have been universally disseminated, we cannot indulge the hope of seeing the animosities of mankind removed. Then only will they love their neighbours as themselves. It is to be most deeply lamented, that even where Christianity has taken root in the mind, this unholy leaven does not seem to be entirely purged away; and mutual jealousies, bickerings, and recriminations exist, where love should be the ruling principle and bond of union. O, when will the reign of perfect charity, that "thinketh no evil," commence! When will "the whole earth be filled with the glory of the Lord!" When will men of every rank and class associate as Christians, and Christians of every order unite as brethren!
The term dog in the mouth of our Saviour, and as applied to this distressed supplicant, must not, however, be considered as used in conformity to the vulgar prejudices of his countrymen, but for the double purpose of a sarcastic allusion to the unreasonableness of their degrading views of others, who were Gentiles by birth, and to try still further a faith which he knew would endure the test, and display this persevering woman to the greatest advantage. Jesus Christ must necessarily, in point of personal feeling, have been infinitely superior to all those unworthy littlenesses which were conspicuous in the multitude around him; and as he was acting for the moment, to answer an important purpose, in an assumed character, we cannot be surprised that he should personate a Jew elated with self-conscious superiority, by saying, "it is not meet to take the children's bread, and to cast it to dogs." We are reminded of Joseph, an eminent antitype of Christ, who, though he knew his brethren, and was overflowing with fraternal tenderness, "made himself strange unto them, and spake roughly unto them;" and we are led to reflect also on the impenetrable darkness which, to the human eye, sometimes envelopes the dispensations of Heaven; when, as a pious poet represents it,
Behind a frowning providence
He hides a smiling face.
The woman at once acknowledges the charge, but instantly extracts an argument from her very discouragements. "Truth, Lord--the dogs ought not to be fed with the supply designed for the children. I own the general fact, and humbly submit to the painful but obvious application. It is not from any conviction of meriting thy interposing mercy, that I have ventured to solicit it, and to reiterate my plea. I am indeed a sinner--a Gentile--a dog. 'And yet,'if I may pursue the allusion, 'the dogs eat of the crumbs which fall from their masters' table.' One act of kindness I entreat amidst thy boundless liberalities--one word of consolation from thy lips, which drop as the honey and the honeycomb--one, only one supply from thine inexhaustible plenitude of grace and power--one fragment from the table!"
It is done!--Joseph unveils himself! Jesus reassumes his proper character! The stern air and attitude of repulsion is dismissed--he smiles with ineffable affection--commends her faith, and with commanding authority bestows the wished-for blessing; and though at so great distance, expels the demon from the afflicted daughter. "Then Jesus answered and said unto her, O woman, great is thy faith; he it unto thee even as thou wilt. And her daughter was made whole from that very hour."
Such was the result of persevering importunity, which must ever characterize successful prayer, and will necessarily spring from a genuine and deep-rooted faith. We have been contemplating one of the finest specimens of it that ever occurred in the world; and we are solemnly exhorted to the practice of it in the introductory passage to one of our Lord's parables--"Men ought always to pray, and not to faint."
Sometimes people are under the influence of very needless discouragements. They "grow weary and faint in their minds," because they do not meet with immediate success; though this consideration constitutes no essential part of the divine promises, would in many cases be injurious to our best interests, and is by no means characteristic of some of the most remarkable examples of successful prayer. At other times impatience arises from observing that "the Father of lights," to whose wisdom it becomes us to refer every petition, does not answer our requests in the manner which we had anticipated, and, perhaps, dared presumptuously to prescribe. But while in this, or in any other way, we approach God in the spirit of dictation, rather than of faith and submission, we virtually renounce the blessing even whilst we solicit it. From the history of the Syrophenician woman we may learn, that our applications for mercy must be sincere, fervent, and incessant. Whatever delays may occur, it is our happiness to be assured that the ear of Infinite Goodness is always open; "the throne of grace," to which we may approach "boldly," is always accessible. The petitions of faith cannot escape the notice, or be obliterated from the memory, of him to whom they are presented, but will prove ultimately effectual; and, as prayer is the appointed means of divine communication, it is necessary to obtain the blessings of Heaven. "Whosoever asketh, receiveth."
The value of the mercies we are required to seek is such as ought to excite our utmost importunity. If the Syrophenician woman were so eager and so persevering in order to obtain a temporal blessing, surely it becomes us to manifest at least an equal zeal for spiritual good. She entreated the cure of her possessed daughter; we are assured that "ALL things whatsoever we ask in prayer, believing, we shall receive." At the voice of prayer the treasures of grace are unlocked, the windows of heaven opened, the riches of eternity dispensed. The language of petition ascends above the language of praise, and is heard amidst the songs of angels. "O thou that hearest prayer, unto thee shall all flesh come." The interesting consideration, that this woman was a Canaanite, ought not to be overlooked. This people was particularly denounced by Noah in the person of their guilty progenitor, and in the following terms: "Cursed be Canaan; a servant of servants shall he be unto his brethren." The descendants of Canaan, that is, primarily of Ham, were remarkably wicked and idolatrous. "Their religion," as bishop Newton observes, "was bad, and their morality, if possible, worse; for corrupt religion and corrupt morals usually generate each other, and go hand in hand together." Some centuries after their predicted subjugation to the yoke of Shem and Japheth, the Israelites, under the command of Joshua, smote thirty of their kings, and Solomon made such as were not before extirpated or enslaved his tributaries. The Greeks and Romans afterward subdued Syria and Palestine, and conquered the Tyrians and Carthaginians. Subsequently to this period, the Saracens, and finally the Turks, fastened upon them the iron yoke of servitude.