She said, “Yes, Lord, yet even the dogs eat the crumbs that fall from their masters’ table.”
Matthew 15:27
The story of the Canaanite woman was one of the first Gospel texts I heard when I started visiting the Lutheran Church four years ago. I love how this woman accepts Jesus’ verdict and still persists in her request. Rather than arguing that she is not a dog, she embraces the label and, as a dog, begs to be fed with the crumbs. Likewise, we confess in agreement with God’s Word that we are sinners. And as sinners, we receive His mercy. Pastor Bryan Wolfmueller has a new video reflecting on this text. To read the account from Matthew’s Gospel, click here.
I’ve wanted to write a poem on the Canaanite woman for a long time, and I finally got around to it this week. May her confession remind us of our condition as needy dogs, and may we find courage to cry for mercy and grace.
Crumbs
Your pronouncement, Lord, is true: As a dog, I come to You. Not my merit but my need, As a dog, I beg and plead. Feed me only crumbs that fall; Not a morsel is too small. Yes, it is the children’s bread, But crumbs spill over as they’re fed. If for scattered sheep You’ve come, Help this dog with just a crumb. Beneath the table of the Lord, I accept and claim Your word. You call me, “dog”; I answer, “yes.” Poor miserable sinner, I confess. Yet feed me, Master, with Your grace. Beneath Your table give a place. Persistent, pleading, Lord, I come. Feed this dog with just a crumb.
As I was reflecting on parts of Ruth yesterday, it struck me for the first time how odd (and honestly depressing) Naomi’s argument is in Ruth 1:11-13. She tries to persuade her daughters-in-law that it is in their best interest to leave her, reasoning, “Turn back, my daughters; why will you go with me? Have I yet sons in my womb that they may become your husbands? Turn back, my daughters; go your way, for I am too old to have a husband. If I should say I have hope, even if I should have a husband this night and should bear sons, would you therefore wait till they were grown? Would you therefore refrain from marrying?” Poor Naomi. She seems sure that she doesn’t have anything left to give and that her closest friends, on realizing this, will abandon her. This was clearly a dark time for her, but I want to take a moment to ponder how her logic can creep into our own thinking as women.
First, her understanding of worth. I wonder if Naomi’s whole world was her family. (It’s interesting that she tells the townswomen that she is returning empty, even though she is accompanied by Ruth, v. 21.) When she lost her husband and two sons, she couldn’t see who she was anymore. What she went through was awful, and I don’t fault anyone in her shoes for struggling to recalibrate a sense of purpose, identity, and worth. But that doesn’t make her right.
Debates about feminism can sometimes leave conservative Christian women in a similar position. We can be so zealous to combat the feminist pressure to pursue an impressive career that we bend too far the opposite direction while staying on the same plane, suggesting that a woman’s worth is found in her husband and kids. If you’ve read many of my posts, you know that the vocations of wife and mother are very dear to my heart. But that is not my source of worth. I’m not saying that feminism does any better. To say that a woman’s worth can be thrown away if she doesn’t chase her dreams and climb the corporate ladder is every bit as demeaning. My point is that all our arguing about what a woman should do and where she belongs can leave us with a very superficial view of womanhood. Created in the image of God, each crafted intentionally and uniquely by His hand, we have infinite intrinsic worth. This is true with or without a husband, with or without children, with or without degrees and a salary.
Secondly, I want to consider Naomi’s expectation that Ruth and Orpah would leave when she explained her inability to provide husbands for them. In proving her wrong, Ruth set a beautiful example of true friendship. Her devotion to Naomi showed that she cared about her for her own sake, not for something Naomi could give her. (Ironically Naomi does play a big role in setting her up with Boaz later, but that wasn’t Ruth’s expectation when she made the decision to stay.) Naomi no doubt thought God had forsaken her, but Ruth proved otherwise. Ruth was a tangible reminder of God’s faithfulness. God had not left Naomi when she lost her husband and sons, and Ruth wouldn’t leave either. Ruth displayed the self-giving, steadfast love of the God “under whose wings [she took] refuge” (see Ruth 2:12).
May God help me to be a friend like Ruth, and may He give each of us friends who remind us of His unwavering love. And, when earthly friendships fail, may He grant us comfort in the astounding words of Christ: “I have called you friends” (John 15:15).
Recently I had the pleasure of reading and listening to some wonderful encouragement for the challenges of parenting during the Divine Service, and I wanted to share those resources with all of you. I previously alluded to the struggle of standing out in the narthex in my post about Mary, and I discussed God’s acceptance of noisy children in this post. I’ve written about the importance of teaching children the story of the crucifixion. But I’ve never devoted an entire post to attending the Divine Service with babies and toddlers.
Caleb returned to his fieldwork responsibilities a few weeks ago, so now I am navigating this single-handedly with two kids. Micah’s morning nap miraculously coincided with the sermon the last couple of Sundays, which is making for a very merciful transition into this new season. The thing about seasons, though, is that they always change, and I want to be prepared for the next time one of the kids hits a rough patch.
Before I get into the wonderful advice from more experienced moms, I want to share my one tip for bringing young children to church: just do it. You can disregard all the opinions on whether to bring snacks and toys or not, what your noise threshold should be for when to take a kid out, or which section of the sanctuary you should try sitting in with toddlers. But please come. Even if you only get to sit for five minutes of the service, even if you feel like you’re a distraction, even if you think you and your child are getting nothing out of it, just be there.
You aren’t attending a show where you have to worry about throwing off the performers or distracting the audience. God is the One at work here, and you can’t mess that up. He sees you, and He welcomes your children.
If you’re worried about what the others who see you might be thinking, there’s a good chance they’re actually encouraged by your presence. (And if they disapprove like the disciples who tried to turn away the infants, that’s their problem.) Most people love seeing little children in church, and you may be an inspiration to newer parents. I’m so grateful that I had the example of a family with five young kids at our previous church. Their baby was three months older than Hosanna, so they really set the precedent for me when she was born. The mom seemed so confident and secure. She would take out a child (or more than one) when necessary, but she didn’t jump up and rush out at the first peep. She would nurse in the pews. She encouraged her kids to participate in the service, but she didn’t seem to expect perfection. Without her example, I’m sure I would have been much more nervous about my own baby’s noise.
Playing after Matins with the friends who were such an inspiration in those early days
I could go on about my own experience with babies and now a toddler in church, but I’d rather jump into these resources. If you only have time to read one or two, the first one is my favorite.
This is a great three-part series that is full of theological encouragement as well as practical advice, serious reflection and relatable humor. Make sure you stick around to part three to get all of Keri’s tips and tricks, but don’t skip to the end. Her discussion of how excluding kids from the service comes from a belief in the age of accountability is very enlightening. It made me think of how our decision to bring or not bring our kids to church really is a confession of what we believe about original sin and the Holy Spirit’s work. I also really appreciate her realistic approach to age-appropriate behavior. She makes a helpful distinction between positive and negative age-appropriate behavior, while also acknowledging how embarrassment and pressure can make this harder in the moment.
If you’ve never thought about how helpful the liturgy is for seasons when you can’t juggle a hymnal or bulletin along with your kiddos, this is an excellent quick read. The ordinaries of the liturgy really do help you participate even if your attention is divided. This is probably the main reason I’m glad we’re at a church that follows Divine Service Setting 3 every Sunday rather than alternating settings!
As you probably guessed from the title, this podcast comes from a Catholic perspective. However, almost all of the practical tips for attending Mass also apply to the Divine Service. One thing I love about this episode is how it shows that different methods work for different parents and kids. It gives you the freedom to try a few things and figure out what suits your family. I also like the emphasis on realistic expectations. (Note: There is some weird stuff about saints in the chatting at the beginning. So if you want to go straight to the relevant tips, you can jump to the seven-minute mark.)
Blessings to each one of you–whether you’re currently wrangling little ones in church, preparing for this in the future, or supporting the parents around you!
It really is delightful when they start participating in their own toddler way!
Coram Mundo 