Eversley, Second Sunday in Lent, 1872.
St Matthew xv. 22-28. "And, behold, a woman of Canaan came out of the
same coasts, and cried unto him, saying, Have mercy on me, O Lord, thou
son of David; my daughter is grievously vexed with a devil. But he
answered her not a word. And his disciples came and besought him,
saying, Send her away; for she crieth after us. But he answered and
said, I am not sent but unto the lost sheep of the house of Israel. Then
came she and worshipped him, saying, Lord, help me. But he answered and
said, It is not meet to take the children's bread, and to cast it to
dogs. And she said, Truth, Lord: yet the dogs eat of the crumbs which
fall from their master's table. Then Jesus answered and said unto her, O
woman, great is thy faith: be it unto thee even as thou wilt. And her
daughter was made whole from that very hour."
If you want a proof from Scripture that there are two sides to our
blessed Lord's character--that He is a Judge and an Avenger as well as a
Saviour and a Pardoner--that He is infinitely severe as well as
infinitely merciful--that, while we may come boldly to His throne of
grace to find help and mercy in time of need, we must, at the same time,
tremble before His throne of justice--if you want a proof of all this, I
say, then look at the Epistle and the Gospel for this day. Put them side
by side, and compare them, and you will see how perfectly they shew, one
after the other, the two sides.
The Epistle for the day tells men and women that they must lead moral,
pure, and modest lives. It does not advise them to do so. It does not
say, It will be better to do so, more proper and conducive to the good of
society, more likely to bring you to heaven at last. It says, You must,
for it is the commandment of the Lord Jesus, and the will of God. Let no
man encroach on or defraud his brother in the matter, says St Paul; by
which he means, Thou shalt not covet thy neighbour's wife. And why?
"Because that the Lord is the avenger of all such, as we also have
forewarned you and testified."
My friends, people talk loosely of the Thunder of Sinai and the rigour of
Moses' law, and set them against what they call the gentle voice of the
Gospel, and the mild religion of Christ. Why, here are the Thunders of
Sinai uttered as loud as ever, from the very foot of the Cross of Christ;
and the terrible, "Thou shalt not," of Moses' law, with the curse of God
for a penalty on the sinner, uttered by the Apostle of Faith, and
Freedom, in the name of Christ and of God. St Paul is not afraid to call
Christ an Avenger. How could he be? He believed that it was Christ who
spoke to Moses on Sinai--the very same Christ who prayed for His
murderers, "Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do." And
he knew that Christ was the eternal Son of God, the same yesterday, to-
day, and for ever; that He had not changed since Moses' time, and could
never change; that what He forbade in Moses' time, hated in Moses' time,
and avenged in Moses' time, He would forbid, and hate, and avenge for
ever. And that, therefore, he who despises the warnings of the Law
despises not man merely, but God, who has also given to us His Holy
Spirit to know what is unchangeable, the everlastingly right, from what
is everlastingly wrong. So much for that side of our Lord's character;
so much for sinners who, after their hardness and impenitent hearts,
treasure up for themselves wrath against the day of wrath and revelation
of the righteous judgment of God, in the day when God shall judge the
secrets of men by Jesus Christ, according to St Paul's Gospel.
But, when we turn to the Gospel for the day, we see the other side of our
Lord's character, boundless condescension and boundless charity. We see
Him there still a Judge, as He always is and always will be, judging the
secrets of a poor woman's heart, and that woman a heathen. He judges her
openly, in public, before His disciples. But He is a Judge who judges
righteous judgment, and not according to appearances; who is no respecter
of persons; who is perfectly fair, even though the woman be a heathen:
and, instead of condemning her and driving her away, He acquits her, He
grants her prayer, He heals her daughter, even though that daughter was
also a heathen, and one who knew Him not. I say our Lord judged the
woman after He had tried her, as gold is tried in the fire. Why He did
so, we cannot tell. Perhaps He wanted, by the trial, to make her a
better woman, to bring out something noble which lay in her heart unknown
to her, though not to Him who knew what was in man. Perhaps He wished to
shew his disciples, who looked down on her as a heathen dog, that a
heathen, too, could have faith, humility, nobleness, and grace of heart.
Be that as it may, when the poor woman came crying to Him, He answered
her not a word. His disciples besought Him to send her away--and I am
inclined to think that they wished Him to grant her what she asked,
simply to be rid of her. "Send her away," they said, "for she crieth
after us." Our Lord, we learn from St Mark, did not wish to be known in
that place just then. The poor woman, with her crying, was drawing
attention to them, and, perhaps, gathering a crowd. Somewhat noisy and
troublesome, perhaps she was, in her motherly eagerness. But our Lord
was still seemingly stern. He would not listen, it seemed, to His
disciples any more than to the heathen woman. "I am not sent but unto
the lost sheep of the house of Israel." So our Lord said, and (what is
worth remembering) if He said so, what He said was true. He was the King
of the people of Israel, the Royal Prince of David's line; and, as a man,
His duty was only to His own people. And this woman was a Greek, a Syro-
phenician by nation--of a mixed race of people, notoriously low and
profligate, and old enemies of the Jews.
Then, it seems, He went into a house, and would have no man know it.
But, says St Mark, "He could not be hid." The mother's wit found our
Lord out, and the mother's heart urged her on, and, in spite of all His
rebuffs, she seems to have got into the house and worshipped Him. She
"fell at His feet," says St Mark--doubtless bowing her forehead to the
ground, in the fashion of those lands--an honour which was paid, I
believe, only to persons who were royal or divine. So she confessed that
He was a king--perhaps a God come down on earth--and again she cried to
Him. "Lord, help me." And what was our Lord's answer--seemingly more
stern than ever? "Let the children first be filled: for it is not meet
to take the children's bread and cast it unto the dogs." Hard words.
Yes: but all depends on how they were spoken. All depends on our Lord's
look as He spoke them, and, even more, on the tone of His voice. We all
know that two men may use the very same words to us;--and the one shall
speak sneeringly, brutally, and raise in us indignation or despair;
another shall use the same words, but solemnly, tenderly, and raise in us
confidence and hope. And so it may have been--so, I fancy, it must have
been--with the tone of our Lord's voice, with the expression of His face.
Did He speak with a frown, or with something like a smile? There must
have been some tenderness, meaningness, pity in His voice which the quick
woman's wit caught instantly, and the quick mother's heart interpreted as
a sign of hope.
Let Him call her a dog if He would. What matter to a mother to be called
a dog, if she could thereby save her child from a devil? Perhaps she was
little better than a dog. They were a bad people these Syrians, quick-
witted, highly civilised, but vicious, and teaching vice to other
nations, till some of the wisest Romans cursed the day when the Syrians
first spread into Rome, and debauched the sturdy Romans with their new-
fangled, foreign sins. They were a bad people, and, perhaps, she had
been as bad as the rest. But if she were a dog, at least she felt that
the dog had found its Master, and must fawn on Him, if it were but for
the hope of getting something from Him.
And so, in the poor heathen mother's heart, there rose up a whole heaven
of perfect humility, faith, adoration. If she were base and mean, yet
our Lord was great, and wise, and good; and that was all the more reason
why He should be magnanimous, generous, condescending, like a true King,
to the basest and meanest of His subjects. She asked not for money, or
honour, or this world's fine things: but simply for her child's health,
her child's deliverance from some mysterious and degrading illness.
Surely there was no harm in asking for that. It was simply a mother's
prayer, a simply human prayer, which our Lord must grant, if He were
indeed a man of woman born, if He had a mother, and could feel for a
mother, if He had human tenderness, human pity in Him. And so, with her
quick Syrian wit, she answers our Lord with those wonderful words--
perhaps the most pathetic words in the whole Bible--so full of humility,
of reverence, and yet with a certain archness, almost playfulness, in
them, as it were, turning our Lord's words against Him; and, by that very
thing, shewing how utterly she trusted Him,--"Truth, Lord: yet the dogs
eat of the crumbs which fall from their masters' table."
Those were the beautiful words--more beautiful to me than whole volumes
of poetry--which our Lord had as it were crushed out of the woman's
heart. Doubtless, He knew all the while that they were in her heart,
though not as yet shaped into words. Doubtless, He was trying her, to
shew His disciples--and all Christians who should ever read the Bible--
what was in her heart, what she was capable of saying when it came to the
point. So He tried her, and judged her, and acquitted her. Out of the
abundance of her heart her mouth had spoken. By her words she was
justified. By those few words she proved her utter faith in our Lord's
power and goodness--perhaps her faith in His godhead. By those words she
proved the gentleness and humility, the graciousness and gracefulness of
her own character. By those words she proved, too,--and oh, you that are
mothers, is that nothing?--the perfect disinterestedness of her mother's
love. And so she conquered--as the blessed Lord loves to be conquered--
as all noble souls who are like their blessed Lord, love to be conquered-
-by the prayer of faith, of humility, of confidence, of earnestness, and
she had her reward. "O woman," said He, the Maker of all heaven and
earth, "great is thy faith. For this saying go thy way. Be it unto thee
even as thou wilt. The devil is gone out of thy daughter." She went,
full of faith; and when she was come to her house, she found the devil
gone out, and her daughter laid upon the bed.
One word more, and I have done. I do not think that any one who really
took in the full meaning of this beautiful story, would ever care to pray
to Saints, or to the Blessed Virgin, for help; fancying that they, and
specially the Blessed Virgin, being a woman, are more humane than our
Lord, and can feel more quickly, if not more keenly, for poor creatures
in distress. We are not here to judge these people, or any people. To
their own master they stand or fall. But for the honour of our Lord, we
may say, Does not this story shew that the Lord is humane enough, tender
enough, to satisfy all mankind? Does not this story shew that even if He
seem silent at first, and does not grant our prayers, yet still He may be
keeping us waiting, as He kept this heathen woman, only that He may be
gracious to us at last? Does not this story shew us especially that our
Lord can feel for mothers and with mothers; that He actually allowed
Himself to be won over--if I may use such a word in all reverence--by the
wit and grace of a mother pleading for her child? Was it not so? "O
woman, great is thy faith. For this saying go thy way. Be it unto thee
even as thou wilt." Ah! are not those gracious words a comfort to every
mother, bidding her, in the Lord's own name, to come boldly where
mothers--of all human beings--have oftenest need to come, to the throne
of Christ's grace, to find mercy, and grace to help in time of need?
Yes, my friends, such is our Lord, and such is our God. Infinite in
severity to the scornful, the proud, the disobedient: infinite in
tenderness to the earnest, the humble, the obedient. Let us come to Him,
earnest, humble, obedient, and we shall find Him, indeed, a refuge of the
soul and body in spirit and in truth.
Thou, O Lord, art all I want.
All and more in thee I find. Amen.