The SyroPhoenician woman-Matthew 15:21-28 & Mark 7:25-30
A finger of light squeezed through the shutter and stretched across the floor, struggling to fill the tiny room with the light of dawn. Elissa sat on a small stool against the cool plaster wall, cradling her daughter’s head in her lap. The child shivered and murmured. Her eyes fluttered open to expose only the whites of her eyes. The child’s balled up fist rested under her chin and spittle glossed her lips. Her body quivered, twitched, and moaned.
Elissa laid Dido gently on the tiny bed. Her eyes passed over every protruding bone under her child’s tunic. Gently stroking Dido’s hair, she bent to kiss her feverish brow.
It had been another sleepless night as Dido’s body twisted, and screams emanated from within her. Elissa hoped that Dido would find peace and rest through the day. Her hope dwindled more each day. It had been two days since Elissa had spoken to Dido. She feared that the evil squatting inside had finally consumed her. Fresh tears of despair began to form in Elissa’s eyes.
The door opened and her maid Gebal, a middle-aged woman with graying hair and a slim build, entered carrying fresh linens on her arm and steadying a bowl of water to wash the little girl. She gave a bow to Elissa and waited. Carefully and reluctantly, Elissa left Dido on the bed and rose. Gebal knelt beside the child.
The mistress addressed her maid, “Gebal, the Master is due in from his voyage. I must go to the market today to buy food and wine to welcome him.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Gebal bowed and began changing the child’s soiled clothing.
“I will also go to the temple and leave an offering for Astarte,” Elissa added over her shoulder.
Gebal nodded submissively and Elissa descended the stairs to the second floor and entered her room. There she changed to a clean linen shift. She twisted her long golden hair up and around her head. Loose curls fell over her shoulders, and she took each tress and wound it into the pile on her head. Gebal entered and finished the task, placing lovely combs of ivory in her hair and long pins with stones. The maid wove gold threads between the curls and pinned the last of the tresses in place. Elissa peered into the brass mirror and dusted herself with white powder. Gebal applied a subtle hue to her mistress’s cheeks and stained her lips with a pink color.
Despite the long sleepless nights and the shadow of worry that lay beneath her eyes, Elissa was still a beautiful woman. Blue eyes stared back at the maid out of hollowed sockets. No amount of makeup would hide the nights that Elissa and her precious Dido had endured. She closed her eyes and tried to resist the images that filled her mind.
What more could she do for her child? She had appealed to Astarte, the patron goddess of Tyre. She had made a blood offering to the demoness Shadrapa, the goddess of healing. She recalled how she had pleaded at the base of the marble figure…cold, hard, and void of life. Yet, despite her petition night after night, her child’s howls and contorted body cleaved her heart. Tears began to stream, leaving trails in her freshly applied make up.
Elissa chastised herself, she must get a hold of herself. She would go to market and then give a part to the priest of the temple and ask them to intercede for her with Astarte.
Gebal tied the linen dress with gold cords beneath her mistress’s breast. Elissa chose a blue wrap, one that her husband had brought her from one of his journeys. She left the room and descended to the first floor to find her servants bustling about. She wanted everything to be in order before her husband returned.
She crossed the room and stood before the house gods. Tiny wooden figures carved to represent the gods stood in an alcove. Before the figurines, a table with figs, dried fish, yellow flowers, and a cup of wine, lay prettily arranged.
Elissa offered all she had to these gods. Absently, she arranged the flowers as her mind pondered. There was more food on this table than her household enjoyed. She had shown her devotion and loyalty, not just in the little alcove of her home but in the city temple. Most of her jewels, household goods, and food were donated to the temple, yet instead of getting better Dido seemed to get steadily worse.
Elissa drew the pale blue veil over her head to protect herself from the sun. The air off the sea was invigorating filling her nostrils with the scent of the ocean. Wind tugged at her veil; a blonde curl came loose and bounced on the wind. She tucked it back into one of the bands and tighten the veil.
People and animals crowded the paved streets their smell and sounds filled up the space between the rows of houses. Traders hurried between brightly colored stalls preparing for the crowds that would come to meet the ships. Centurions and soldiers mingled in and out of the crowds plucking fruit and food from the stalls. Slaves bronzed by the sun unloaded crop wagons brought from nearby villages. The city was abuzz and going about business oblivious to the pain of her house.
Elissa quickly started down the steps and into the throng, her manservant laden with baskets, trailing behind. Past the shops she hurried, her sandal feet moving swiftly. She did not want to be away from Dido too long.
She entered the market area from a grove of trees avoiding the soldiers and beggars at the gates. Merchant’s tents filled the clearing. Barkers listed the items for sale. People pushed.
She ignored it all, focused only on her mission.
Elissa made her way from stand to stand, choosing the best fruits, olives, and figs. Behind her the servant balanced the shopping. After she was satisfied with her purchases, she made her way to the other side of the clearing. She knew that was the best place to buy wine and olive oil for her husband’s return. The best was always in the Jews’ stalls.
As she bartered with the Jewess, she could not help but overhear the owner of the tent speaking to other Jews that had come to shop and gossip. They were speaking about a prophet, a Nazarene called Jesus. Elissa moved closer.
She had heard of Jesus, a rabbi that had healed hundreds and taught great multitudes in the Jewish communities. Her husband on voyage returns told stories about this man. It seemed the whole world knew of him. A few of the Jews believed he was the long-awaited Messiah, the one that would free them. Others in the synagogues did not want Jesus in their towns. For some, this Nazarene was trouble. He threatened to upend their way of life and tradition. The governing body of the Jews hated him and plotted against him and those that followed him. But Elissa interest was not in the Jew’s politics, Messiahs, or Rabbis only the healing power of the man.
Elissa moved closer, pulling her veil over her face. The men were excitedly talking about the healing of a Centurion’s servant in Capernaum. Elissa’s heart leapt; had she heard the men correctly? Was it true the Nazarene had healed a gentile? She needed to know where to find the Rabbi.
She knew better than to address the Jewish men, their strict laws prohibited them from speaking to women, especially a gentile. Elissa was not just a gentile, she was a Syrophoenician. A “pagan dog” was the term used most often by the Jews.
No matter what these men may think, she could not allow this opportunity to pass by. She vowed to find this rabbi and implore him to have mercy and free her daughter of the demon affliction. Turning quickly, she approached a servant girl stacking jars of oil in the stall.
“Tell me please. Where can this rabbi Jesus be found?” Her voice was hushed. She did not want to draw the attention of the proprietor.
At first the girl, a child not much older than Dido was surprised to be spoken to by the elegantly dressed woman. She studied the woman for a moment, and then with caution, more because of her fear of the men than of the inquirer, she moved closer. “They say he has been in Capernaum and that he is moving up to this area. I heard this morning that he was planning on sojourning to Sidon.”
Both women glanced at the men and then Elissa asked, “Do you know when?”
“Today, this very morning,” the girl whispered and turned back to continue stacking jars.
Elissa turned to her servant. “Come quickly, we must hurry.” The servant tucked the oil jars in his pack and lifted the wine to balance on his head. He struggled to keep up with the swift feet of his mistress as she made her way through the crowds.
Once back at the villa, Elissa relayed what she had heard to Gebal and the other domestics. She sent her manservant to the Hippodrome to deliver a letter. The man, a friend of her husband bred horses for the chariot races. Elissa knew he could supply her with a fine horse and driver. Sidon was 12 miles away and with skilled charioteer, she could make it by afternoon.
By the time she had checked on Dido, and wrapped a small lunch, the chariot waited in the street. A large black horse stamped the stone walkway and snorted. He was a tethered to large chariot, its fresh paint reflected the climbing sun. The charioteer was a large man, bronzed by the sun and robust no doubt by years of hard labor and living. His hair, if he had any was hidden by a leather cap. He stood rigid waiting.
While wrapping the veil over her head, she left final instructions and climbed up into the chariot. The man slapped the horse’s hindquarters, and the beast began down the paved street with a lurch, almost toppling Elissa to the pavement. She gripped the rail and clenched her headdress tighter, struggling to keep hold of the fluttering material. The conveyance raced past the Hippodrome and along the colonnade, the horse’s hooves clattered.
Elissa felt excitement and hope intermingle in her chest. She knew Jesus could save her child. Through the archway, the cart rattled. Ahead, the causeway connecting the island of Tyre to the mainland gleamed in the sun. There was no turning back now. Elissa looked over her shoulder to see Tyre fade away, and turning back to the roadway she would only think about meeting this Jesus. In her haste, she had not even considered how she, a Syrophoenician woman, would find a way to get close to a Jewish rabbi. All Elissa knew was that she would find Jesus and when she did her daughter will be healed.
The charioteer drove the horse with skill, weaving in and out donkeys and carts. The horse continued its furious pace up the paved roadway. Travelers moved out of the way of the charging beast. The driver stopped once to rest the animal and water it. Elissa too took water and bread. She was anxious to finish the final leg of the journey. The man did not tarry long and soon she was once again clinging to the rail as the driver urged the animal on.
The charioteer brought Elissa into the middle of the town; it was not hard to find the rabbi. Outside a building that Elissa knew to be a synagogue, a group of people pressed into one another.
Leaving the chariot, Elissa walked quickly to the throng of people. Her legs were weak and threatened to buckle beneath her. She pulled the headdress closer, shielding her face as much as she could. She was unable to see him, but she could hear his voice and she, like the others, stood transfixed at his words. His voice was kind, compassionate, and he spoke with great wisdom and authority. She crossed over to a trough and climbed on it to see if she could just glimpse the man.
He was not what she expected, though she really did not know what it was that she had expected. He separated from the group, and as the men with him tried to hold the throng at bay, he walked to a small house at the end of a row of small mud brick domiciles. Elissa hurried to catch up to Jesus, but she was headed off by some of the men. They were strong men, well built and rugged.
“Stop, you cannot be here!” the large barrel-chested man boomed. More men gathered behind him.
Elissa had come to far and was too close to walk away now. “My daughter is demon possessed. I must speak to the rabbi. I need him to heal her!” she wailed. “Please let me speak to him. I know he can heal her. Please,” Elissa pleaded. Her veil fell away to expose her face and golden hair.
The men immediately recognized her nationality and turned her away without pity. “Go, get away from here.” One kicked dirt at her; she lifted her arm to shield her face.
“Be gone, pagan dog!” another spat. Using a stick, he pushed her away.
Elissa retreated, but not too far. The men soon forgot her as they encouraged others to leave but the people would not go. This was Elissa’s opportunity; as his men were busy with the others, she may have the opening to speak to Jesus.
She made her way around the people, and as she approached the doorway, Elissa did not know what she was going to do next. Would she simply walk in the home? Maybe she should knock. Whatever she was going to do, she would have to act now. Yet neither was necessary, Jesus of Nazareth pulled back the cloth that hung over the door and stepped out. Their eyes met. Elissa knew in that second that this was no ordinary man. He was everything and more that he had proclaimed in his teaching.
Upon seeing the rabbi, Elissa collapsed at his feet. Her forehead pressed into the dirt; hands stretched out before her. “Lord, Son of David, have mercy on me! My daughter is demon possessed and suffering terribly.”
Elissa waited, but the rabbi said nothing. Elissa had not come this far to leave without her daughter’s healing. She repeated her plea. “Lord, Son of David, have mercy on me! My daughter is demon possessed and suffering terribly. I know that you can heal her, Lord. I have heard about you. I know that you are a great teacher and the promised one of the people.” Tears stung her eyes.
The barrel-chested man, Peter heard the wailing of the woman and turned to see Jesus standing outside.
“Come quick!” he shouted over his shoulder. The disciples hurried to see what was happening. Upon their approach, many recognized that the woman kneeling at Jesus’ feet as the pagan they had just turned away. Outrage surged through their veins.
“Send her away, Lord. She keeps crying out after us.” Gathering sticks and stones they started to rush her. Jesus raised his hand.
Tenderly he addressed her in Greek. “I was sent only to the lost sheep of Israel.”
She had heard enough in the marketplaces of Israel. She understood his meaning, yet she knew that he was more than a teacher.
She would not relent.
“Lord, help me,” Elissa sobbed. Her face pressed into the cool dirt, her body aching from the chariot ride and now her legs cramped from staying on her knees before him. She stayed before him.
Jesus replied. “It is not right to take the children’s bread and toss it to the dogs.”
He likened her to a pet dog. She knew that he was talking of the children of Israel. His people, the Jews. Her people, polytheists pagans, were despised and shunned by the Jews. However, Elissa was undaunted. He was the only one that could help her and her daughter, Dido.
Lifting her head slightly so that her words could be heard, Elissa answered, her voice strong. “Yes, it is, Lord. Even the dogs eat the crumbs that fall from their master’s table.”
Holding her breath, she waited.
Then Jesus said to her, “Woman, you have great faith! Your request is granted.” The silent tears became sobs of relief and joy.
Gasps tore through the silent onlookers that had gathered around them. Elissa remained at his feet.
Slowly he turned and walked away, the crowd following quietly behind. A hand touched her arm, and the charioteer lifted her to her feet. Tears, relief, and joy seemed to erupt at once. He steadied her as he took her to the well. The charioteer offered her a ladle. With a grateful smile, she accepted. Eagerly lifting it to her dusty lips, she drank deeply.
Darkness was claiming Tyre when the chariot came to a stop before the villa. The streets were empty, the hustle and bustle of the day gone. The tents and stalls closed, the smells of people and animals rode the breeze. Elissa saw the oil lamps lit, dancing behind curtains in the windows. She dashed from the cart and burst through the doorway. No one was in the front hallway and lifting her shift she ran up the stairway to the tiny room at the top of the third floor. She entered the room and running past the servants she fell to her knees at Dido’s bed.
“Mommy?” her daughter’s voice sweet and tiny rang out. Gathering her child into her arms, she showered her with kisses mingled with tears of gratitude.
On the street, the captain heard the clatter of hoofs and chariot wheels entering the city. He came out of the alleyway to see the chariot as it raced past. His ship had docked hours ago, and he roamed the streets desperate to find Elissa. The servants had told him that she had left to find a Jew named Jesus. She hired a chariot and horse to take her to him, but this seemed too fantastical to believe.
He made it to the villa just as the horse and driver turned toward the hippodrome. The captain entered his house, his voice, stout, and forceful called out to Elissa. Not waiting for reply, he charged the stairway, his heavy footfalls echoed as he ascended the stairs.
“We are here!” Elissa cried.
The captain burst through the curtain and his eyes fell on Dido looking up at him. Her face was no longer gray with the shadow of death, instead her cheeks were rosy and her eyes bright.
The captain stammered, “Then it is true? She is delivered by a Jew?”
Elissa smiled, “He is not just a Jew. He is much more. Greater than all our gods.”
Her husband knelt and touched Dido’s cheek. It was warm. Her pink lips curled into a smile, and she reached to encircle her arms around his neck. He had longed to hold her again and gathered her into his arms.
Before the sun pierced the darkness, everyone in the city had heard the amazing story of how the captain’s daughter had been healed. Knowledge of Dido’s recovery spread throughout the coast, and many came to see the miraculous transformation for themselves.
Could this event have planted the seed for the gospel? Acts 21:1-6.
Roughly 25 years later in A.D. 58, Paul arrived in Tyre by ship. Upon disembarking he sought out converts in the city and he found seven. It is conceivable that the daughter was among the converts he encountered.
Impressed with them, Paul changed his plans and stayed in Tyre a full week, getting to know the small congregation. One of the converts had a vision from the Holy Spirit and warned Paul not to go to Jerusalem because there was to be an assassination attempt on Paul. Heeding this divine caution, Paul continued along the coast rather than traveling to Jerusalem.
Jesus extended mercy to a pagan woman and her daughter. This mother’s love and faith that Jesus could heal her daughter moved Him deeply. This act serves as a reminder that His compassion is universal. Regardless of one’s identity, past actions, or origins, His mercy is offered to all who accept Him.
Typist for Jesus
Mustard Seeds, Modern Parables 