Who let the dogs out?

The world seems to be divided into two major camps: dog lovers and cat lovers. It’s interesting to note that cats (with the exception of their larger cousin, the lion) do not appear anywhere in the Jewish and Christian scriptures, but dogs make 40 appearances.

Faithful shepherding dogs and wild scavenging dogs get bit parts in Old and New Testaments. Feral dogs devour sinful Jezebel in the Hebrew scriptures, Job and Lazarus the beggar, at the rich man’s house in Jesus’ parable, are licked by dogs whose saliva was thought to be curative. Counselling against reversion to sinful ways, Solomon reminds us that “as dogs return to their vomit, so fools repeat their folly (Proverbs 26:11).” 

Domestic dogs hovered under at least two tables in the New Testament. The parable of Lazarus and the rich man is ultimately about the judgment of those who fail to listen to the word of God. The story recounted in today’s gospel of Jesus encountering the Syrophoenician woman and her possessed daughter is, or at least can be, a parable about how Jesus, son of God, came to understand the better how to be a child of humanity. 

Jesus was a child of his own culture, and the reading shows that he shared some of its prejudices against strangers and foreigners. Maybe he was just tired or distracted, but his harsh reaction to the foreign woman’s petition for the healing of her troubled daughter was uncharacteristically harsh: “it is not right to take the children’s bread and toss it to the dogs.” Ouch. 

The woman—the stranger—replies out of her profound human need: “even the dogs eat the crumbs that fall from their master’s table.” Perhaps Jesus heard his own mother Mary’s tone of voice in that woman’s plea. He changes his heart, his attitude, and his own tone, and rewards her faith with the healing she sought for her little one. Indeed, the Greek word for dog here actually is more accurately translated as “puppy.” Strange and lovely to see how Jesus was able to save even the runt of the litter. 

So, dog lovers, take heart. While the gospels don’t tell us that Jesus ever had a pet when he was a child, it’s comforting to know that he learned something important from that woman, and we can be safe in assuming that he never negatively referred to anyone as “a dog” again. 

Two art historical asides:

Top Picture:

St. Roch, the patron saint of pilgrims and plague victims, is often portrayed with a dog. Legend tells us the canine provided him bread for his hunger and a soothing lick that drew the pestilence from his leg.

Bottom Picture:

Rembrandt, ever an earthy Hollander, shows the Good Samaritan delivering the wounded traveler to an inn, while an indifferent dog does his business in the foreground.