It Is Right to Give the Children's Bread to the Dogs
The Canaanite/Syrophoenician Woman and the Feeding of the 4000
Remember that time Jesus called a Gentile woman a dog?
Kind of an awkward moment, right? For a long time, I dealt with the awkwardness by … thinking about it as little as possible. Full-on avoidance mode. But then, last year—unexpectedly—I fell in love with this story while trying to answer a different question about bread: Why does Jesus feed a crowd of 5000 and a crowd of 4000?
Let me explain.
If you’re not familiar with the Dog-gate Scandal, let’s recap by reading Matthew 15:21-28 (NIV):
21 Leaving that place, Jesus withdrew to the region of Tyre and Sidon. 22 A Canaanite woman from that vicinity came to him, crying out, “Lord, Son of David, have mercy on me! My daughter is demon-possessed and suffering terribly.”
23 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.”
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.
26 He replied, “It is not right to take the children’s bread and toss it to the dogs.”
27 “Yes it is, Lord,” she said. “Even the dogs eat the crumbs that fall from their master’s table.”
28 Then Jesus said to her, “Woman, you have great faith! Your request is granted.” And her daughter was healed at that moment.
(In Mark’s version of the story, the woman is described as Syrophoenician. See Mark 7:24-30.)
Is Jesus Being Racist, Or … ?
Some readers have suggested that this episode shows Jesus being racist and that the woman teaches him a better way. An acquaintance with a penchant for internet trollery once claimed on the Lord’s internet that Jesus was racist and that this shows us that racism isn’t a sin!
Other commentators have pointed out that the word Jesus uses for “dog” is a diminutive that might evoke a small, domestic dog. N. Clayton Croy proposes that we translate the word as “little dog” or even “puppy”—evoking an ancient family pet rather than a mangy street dog.1 (It’s only a matter of time before a millennial preacher in Converse suggests we read the word as “doggo.”)2 Others, like Jeannine Brown, point out that, while such a translation might soften the interaction, it can’t erase the sting of Jesus’ words entirely.3 Ben Witherington makes an interesting observation: The woman is comfortable pushing back—perhaps because of her own desperation, but perhaps because there is something in Jesus’ words or manner that invites pushback.4
These all seem like fair points. Perhaps Jesus is less harsh here than he sounds in translation. Interpretation inevitably involves imagination. So, how do we imagine the scene in our heads?
Is Jesus’ tone harsh? Inviting? When and how does he look at her? Does he offer her a little smile and tilt his head toward his disciples, as if to suggest that he’s leading her through this conversation for their benefit? Mark’s version of the story tells us that they’re inside a house—is a nearby puppy eating a scrap from the hand of a mischievous child as they speak? For many stories, our whole perspective can change based on how we block the scene in our heads.
But we’ll come back to this imaginative exercise in a minute. For now, I want to focus on how this scene fits within its immediate context—the stories that come before and after it. Because, as it turns out, there’s a lot about meals in Matthew 15 and Mark 7-8.
“Wash Your Hands For At Least 20 Seconds”
Right before this story, some hypocritical Pharisees and scribes—Jewish religious leaders—come at Jesus (see the whole story in Matthew 15:1-20; Mark 7:1-23). They want to know why Jesus’ disciples aren’t washing their hands before eating.
Today, with our knowledge of germs, we all want to tell the disciples to wash their hands. But these Pharisees weren’t concerned about germs. They’re outraged that the disciples are breaking Jewish tradition about hand-washing. This may be selective outrage—because this group already has it out for Jesus, they’re looking for ways to discredit him. Jesus retorts that these hypocritical religious leaders are willing to break God’s commands for the sake of their tradition—they’re even creating loopholes to help people avoid financially supporting their aging parents!
Quick note: The Pharisees get a bad rap in a lot of preaching and teaching—I’m not going to rehash the academic conversations today, but I’ll say that we don’t want to paint with a broad brush. We’re talking about the specific group of people who are trying to entrap Jesus in this particular scene, not about Pharisees as a whole.
Look at the contrast between these Pharisees and this woman: They are male, Jewish religious leaders—she is a Gentile woman with a demon-possessed daughter. It’s hard to imagine a stronger contrast. And yet she is the one who recognizes Jesus as the Son of David. They rebuke Jesus for how his disciples eat; she just wants some crumbs from his table.
Why Does Jesus Feed Two Crowds?
Now let’s look at what happens after Jesus’ interaction with this woman: First, he heals some people (Matthew 15:29-31; Mark 7:31-37), and then he feeds the 4000 (Matthew 15:32-39; Mark 8:1-10).
Isn’t it odd that Jesus feeds both a crowd of 5000 and a crowd of 4000? Is Jesus just reprising his greatest hits? (Possibly.) Could this be the same event counted differently? (Seems promising until you realize that Matthew and Mark record both events, and Jesus discusses them as separate feedings in Matthew 16:9-10. The feeding of the 5000 comes first, before his interaction with the Canaanite woman.)
But Mark gives us an interesting detail—after talking with the Canaanite woman, Jesus is still in Gentile country, in the Decapolis. Mark focuses in on a specific miracle: Jesus heals a deaf man. Matthew records the whole healing tour, in which the people “praise the God of Israel.” And then Jesus has compassion on the gathered crowd and tells his disciples to get them something to eat.
The disciples—who’ve recently witnessed Jesus feed 5000 people with five small loaves of bread and two fish—have absolutely no idea how they’re supposed to feed the crowd. Not one clue. Not even the faintest hint. So Jesus performs another miracle—I imagine him rolling his eyes when the disciples ask where they’re supposed to get food. Everyone eats until they’re full, and the disciples gather up seven baskets of leftovers.
The Feeding of the 5000 was a crowd of Jews. But the 4000 are largely Gentiles.
So, after his interaction with this woman, Jesus begins healing other Gentiles—just as he healed her daughter—and then literally. gives. bread. to. Gentiles!
And he does this by repeating a miracle that he’s already done for his own people. The children’s bread has indeed come to the little dogs. But he gives this crowd far more than table scraps. Because there are leftovers. Seven baskets full of them.
When Jesus feeds the 5000, earlier, the 12 baskets of leftovers symbolize the 12 tribes of Israel. Here, seven baskets may signify the number of completion—that Jesus is bringing in all peoples—or it may be a reference to the seven nations in the land of Canaan, signaling the radical inclusion in Jesus of those who were once driven out (see Deuteronomy 7:1; Acts 13:19).
Nevertheless, She Persisted
So, let’s return to our scene: Jesus and his disciples, in a house. At some point, the woman arrives.
Try to play two or three versions of this scene out in your head. At what point does she enter the house? What else is happening around them? What is Jesus’ tone and expression? What are the disciples doing? Who makes eye contact with who, and when?
The woman comes to Jesus in faith, asking for healing for the daughter she loves. She comes in humility, pleading for his mercy, calling him the Son of David, demonstrating that she understands Jesus’ place in Israel’s story better than the group of religious leaders that just tried to entrap him.
He is quiet, at first. Is she in front of him yet? Is she yelling from outside the house?
But his disciples sure aren’t quiet! They’re annoyed. They want Jesus to send her away. How loudly are they speaking? What are they saying about her? Does one of the disciples mumble the more-derogatory version of the word for dog?
Jesus says that he was sent only to the lost sheep of Israel. Is he speaking to her? To the disciples? Both? Others in the home?
She kneels before him. “Lord, help me.”
He answers that it is not right to take the children’s bread and throw it to the little dogs. How does he say it? Does his tone or manner invite pushback?
She flatly contradicts him: “Yes, it is, Lord. Even the dogs eat the crumbs that fall from the master’s table.” (“Lord” and “master” are the same word in Greek—though it’s awkward in English, we could say, “Yes, it is, Lord. Even the dogs eat the crumbs that fall from the lord’s table.”)
He replies, “Woman, you have great faith! Your request is granted.”
When she leaves the house, she finds her daughter healed and whole. And when Jesus leaves the house, he embarks on a new phase of his ministry—it’s time to bring the bread of life to the Gentiles.
The Other Women Who Persisted
As I’ve meditated on this story, I’ve found two intriguing (potential) parallels.
Let’s think about Mary, Jesus’ mother, in John 2:1-12—the Wedding at Cana.5 Mary knows that Jesus is a miracle-worker. When the bride’s family runs out of wine, Mary brings the problem to Jesus—this family, with whom Mary must be very close, is about to suffer a huge public shame. Jesus tells his mother that his hour hasn’t yet come—it isn’t time for him to perform public miracles. But she persists, and Jesus agrees and embarks on a new phase of his ministry—his public miracles.
Do these women change Jesus’ mind? That’s one possible reading, though I wouldn’t frame it in quite that way—the Old Testament portrays Israel’s destiny as lighting the way for the nations. Matthew bookends his gospel with the visitation of foreign magi at the beginning, and the great commission to make disciples of all nations at the end. Jesus was always going to do miracles, and he was always here for both Jews and Gentiles. At most, the women accelerated his timeline.
Perhaps these women acted as unwitting messengers—the Father used them to tell Jesus that the time had come for the next phase of his ministry.
Or perhaps Jesus knew all along how these episodes would play out and invited these women into the process of his unfolding ministry. If he had no intention of ministering to the Gentiles, we might ask why he went to the region of Tyre and Sidon at all. His give-and-take with the Canaanite woman, in particular, may have been for the benefit of his disciples, that they might contrast her understanding and faith with their own confusion and doubt—or with the outright resistance of some Jewish religious leaders.
(Two other minor parallels between these passages deserve a mention, though they may or may not be relevant. First, the water jars in John 2:6 are for ceremonial washing; my Bible has a note connecting John 2:6 to Mark 7:3-4, which describes the Pharisees’ purification rituals—you know, the ones that they think Jesus’ disciples should be observing. These verses are right in the “Wash Your Hands” passage we talked about earlier! Second, Jesus addresses both women as “Woman.” This isn’t unique in the gospels—Jesus uses this word as direct address five or six times in John6 and once in Luke—but it is the only use of this form of the word in Matthew. It is not used anywhere in Mark.)
Let’s also think about the Parable of the Unjust Judge in Luke 18:1-8. In this story, a widow pleads for justice from an unjust judge, a man who neither fears God nor respects the people. Though he refuses at first, the widow wears him out with pleading until, in exasperation, he grants her request. Jesus describes the judge as a foil to God—if this unjust man eventually grants justice, how much more will the just and righteous God respond to the pleas of his people? Luke interprets this parable as a lesson “to pray always and not to lose heart.”
So, Matthew and Mark tell us of the Canaanite/Syrophoenician woman who pushes back against Jesus to plead for her daughter.
Luke relates the parable of the widow who wears out the unjust judge in seeking justice.
John shows Mary insist that Jesus save a family she loves from social shame.
Every gospel describes a woman who pushes God in pursuit of what is right—even though it looks like God has said no—until she receives her miracle.
May we follow her example and do likewise.
A Rule for Difficult Texts
Does this reading leave us entirely comfortable with the story? Probably not. Difficult texts are … well … difficult. But I hope it helped you see possibilities in the text, that you’re better able to fit this story into the narrative of Scripture and the character of God than you were before. These stories invite us to study and to meditate, to wrestle with God and to refuse to let go until we receive a blessing.
So, my first rule for difficult texts: When you’re staring at a weird or unsettling passage … take a deep breath. Fear not, as the angels always say in the stories. It’s an invitation to the Church to meditate on it in community. We’ll figure it out together.
Do you have a question or another insight into this passage? Do you agree or disagree with something I’ve said here? Is there another passage that you’d like me to wrestle with in an upcoming post? Click through to leave me a comment—I’d love to hear from you!
ICYMI
The Story of All Things
Before the beginning, there was only Yahweh. Then, Yahweh began everything. Yahweh created the world and all that is in it—earth and stars, the fruit of the vine and the birds of the air, wheat and fish and olives and pygmy hippopotamuses.
From the dust of the earth and the breath of life, Yahweh formed humankind in Yahweh’s own image and likeness, to live in peace and reign as regents. Yet, the people chose sin over shalom, bringing death upon their own heads and darkness and disorder upon the world, forgetting the God of the garden. The voices of blood cried out from the cursed ground until Yahweh cleansed the earth in the floodwaters of baptism, restoring it anew, washing away the stain of violence.
N. Clayton Croy, “Puppies and Pejoratives: Did Jesus Insult the Syrophoenician Woman (Mark 7.24-30)?” New Testament Studies 70.3, Cambridge University Press: 2024, 407-420.
This is also not the way.
Jeannine Brown, Matthew, TTCS, (Grand Rapids, MI: Baker, 2015), 180.
Ben Witherington III, Matthew, SHBC, (Macon, GA: Smith & Helwys, 2006), 302.
Gospels scholars, don’t come at me for paralleling John and the Synoptics. I’m big on intertextuality, and we don’t know how these stories might have interacted in the earliest oral traditions.
We find the sixth usage in John in the story of the woman caught in adultery, an episode which was not originally part of John’s gospel, although it was likely an early story that circulated about Jesus and may well have really happened.
One thing to note is the woman’s faith.
1. She believes He is so good, that even the tiniest crumb from Him is enough to heal
2. She is confident - similar to the centurion - that He can heal at a a distance. Once He says He will heal her daughter, she believes and goes home. She initially has zero evidence about her daughter being healed other than that He said he would do it. Mark explicitly tells us she went home and found her daughter in bed and the demon gone.
This is great! What do you think of the reading that the biblical author is intentionally setting up the drama of the story, emphasizing the reversal in the end? Basically, this reading suggests that Jesus is treating the woman how you would expect a Jewish man to treat a gentile woman, only to flip the script in the end. Not sure this solves the tension either, but I appreciate both takes!