1The change was dramatic. One day this cadre of a dozen men devoted to Jesus were suddenly followed by 5,000 souls, many declaring Jesus king. Two days later they were reduced to the twelve, plus a few of the followers of John the Baptist. And the twelve knew now that they lived their lives as marked men. The one thing that gave them courage was their profound belief that Jesus was the Messiah. The miracles spoke for themselves. Yet the Pharisees returned to Jerusalem armed with damning testimony. Jesus proclaimed himself to be divine! That was blasphemy – unless Jesus was no ordinary man.
To the surprise of his followers, Jesus journeyed east of Cana and entered Gentile country, the region between Sidon and Tyre. This area was a peculiar mix of the ancient Canaanite and Phoenician cultures, blended with Greek. Everywhere the disciples looked they saw altars and temples constructed to a pantheon of gods. Jesus spoke to no one. He simply continued to walk. Yet it was clear in the faces of some of the people they passed that they recognized him.
So it was that they were passing through a village where the traffic of rumor had preceded them. A small crowd was gathering. It was a familiar site, except the people wore Gentile clothing, wore Gentile jewelry, and spoke Greek. The disciples were beginning to get uneasy. Yet Jesus was the calm in the storm.
A woman cried out, running out of the crowd towards them. “Have mercy on me, Lord.”
The event of this day started many months before. The woman’s husband, Barek, was a trader. He had become very wealthy. Their home was a modest estate outside the city of Sidon, which produced wine, olive oil and goats. They had been living a good life. With one exception. Of their children, one was quite troublesome. Her name was Melita. She had difficulty relating to other children and her parents. She would have sudden outbursts of screaming. When she wasn’t screaming, she was rocking back and forth. Barek had put forth the painful option of taking their child to a remote mountain top and leaving her. But Adonia would passionately cry out, “No!” Barek would concede, if not repent of such a thought. Despite everything, they loved Melita.
On occasion, Barek’s commerce took him into the area of Galilee. From Barek Adonia would pick up news about the Jews. Normally indifferent about a person’s beliefs, Barek found the Jews mysterious, if not somewhat amusing.
“They have all these rituals. Can’t eat certain foods. Insist that at least one day of the week be a day of rest, doing nothing. They don’t even fight on their day of rest.”
Sometimes he would return from one of his journeys to the Galilee with little positive to say about the Jews.
“Call us ‘dogs’. What kind of people call outsiders dogs? Better a dog, than a rat.”
“How is it you can do business with such people.”
“I have often asked the same thing. But there is one thing we share in common. Greed.”
One day Barek returned from the Galilee with an interesting story to tell.
“There is a man who has appeared in the Galilee. Most unusual. There is a city leader in Capernaum who I trade with that said this man has healed many.”
Over the year, the stories continued. Barek had to explain to his wife, “Some say that he is their Messiah – this king that is supposed to come and set them free. They call him the son of David.”
“Aren’t they all the son of David?”
“No. They are all sons of Abraham. This man is descended from David.”
“And yet you tell me he is an ordinary man.”
“That’s what I hear. I have not seen him myself.”
A few months later, Barek affirmed, “They definitely see him as a king. I had to carry food to Capernaum. Thousands are gathering around him. Word has it he fed 5,000 people.”
“Five thousand? How?”
“You tell me. I am only a dog.”
Barek knew that even though Adonia was silent, news about a “king” or a “Messiah” that healed people would spring within her a hope. And it was true. But Adonia had to carry her hopes inside her. Who amongst her friends knew anything about this “son of David?” And what chance was there of her encountering the “son of David?” He was a Jew. Any good Jew would not journey to the land of Baal. And if he did, what would he want with her? She was, as Barek stated, nothing more than a dog.
It was so sudden. She acted not with forethought or design. She was near the market outside of Sidon when she saw a group of men walking down the road. She noticed they had stopped at a stall to purchase some fruit and refill their pouches with water. After they left, she asked the grocer, “Who were those men?”
“They spoke Aramaic. But two them spoke Greek to me. I asked where they were from. ‘Galilee’ is what they said.”
The man could see that Adonia was affected by something he said. She had stood straight up, her eyes staring ahead, as she whispered, “Galilee.”
She turned and ran down the road after them. As she neared her heart began to pound, her hopes overwhelming her. She suddenly heard herself yelling at a group of strangers, “Have mercy on me, Lord!”
Adonia thought to herself, “What am I saying. How can he be a ‘lord’, this man in a seamless, woolen garment?” But what else could she say? If he was a messiah, what other name could you give him?
The disciples were stunned. Phillip responded, “She called him Lord! Who, amongst the Phoenicians, would call Jesus ‘Lord’?”
Andrew added, “How could she know?”
Adonia did not give up. She waved her hand again, hoping it would get his attention. “Son of David! My daughter is severely demon-possessed.”
Jesus looked at her for a moment, hesitating. James the Younger whispered, “Should we send her away? She cries out to us, pointing us out.”
Jesus stopped and turned to the woman. Adonia’s heart was racing. She thought to herself, “Does he understand Greek?” To her surprise, he replied to her in Greek. “I was not sent except to the lost sheep of the house of Israel.”
He said this with firmness, yet in a soft voice. All this time, several of the disciples remained vexed. “How did she know he was the son of David?”
To their amazement, she persisted to follow and came and knelt before Jesus, repeating again the words “Lord” and “son of David.” She begged him, “Please. My daughter. She is possessed.”
Jesus spoke to her quietly. “It is not good to take the children’s bread and throw it to the dogs.”
She was stunned for a moment, and in tears she looked up and could see in his eyes that he knew her.
Adonia, still kneeling, her lips quivering, she declared. “Yes, Lord, yet even dogs eat the crumbs which fall from their master’s table.”
Jesus looked down at the woman then knelt to her level. “O woman, what faith you have! Let it be to you as you desire!”
And that was it. She remained frozen.
He softly said to her, “Go. Your daughter waits for you.”
Melita sat in a chair under the portico. This day was like any other, a confusing cycle of thoughts, a desperate desire to gain understanding. In her world, she had moments of joy and ecstasy, yet for the average person they would see uncontrolled and clumsy noise. Yet she knew something was not right. She was not like other people. Yet she did not feel lonely. She had her mother and father. She had the familiarity of siblings and servants. It was a small world, the only reality she knew. She never walked out beyond the outer walls of the compound. This morning was like any other morning where she sat in her chair under the portico, conducting imaginary conversations.
Yet this day was strangely different. She looked across the courtyard. She was not aware of it at that moment, but she was no longer talking to herself. She was gazing about the place as if it was all new. She rose and stepped into the garden. She remembered her mother, how she slowly worked her way through the courtyard, tending to the all the plants. Melita followed her footsteps, bent over and picked a sprig of oregano. She relished its aroma. She loved the garden and she often explored the plants, smelling the herbs and tasting the fruit and leaves. But this day was different. This day she had understanding. She saw a bee fly by and gazed at it as it alighted on lavender. She stood, gazing, in wonder. What was different? Why was it different?
When Jesus had told Adonia that she must go to her daughter, she remained kneeling, at a loss of what to do. Jesus helped her up. She wasn’t sure what to say. Her eyes showed this peculiar mixture of thankfulness and uncertainty. Did he heal her daughter? She hesitated, but returned to her home, all the while sensing this warm presence. She entered her home and immediately went to the courtyard where she found Melita sitting on the bench next to a small pool. She approached from behind her and paused, looking in disbelief. Was this to last? She was sitting still. She whispered, “Melita.”
Her daughter turned. She responded to her voice!
“Mother.” She stood and held out her arms. She had never done that before. Adonia broke down into tears and took her daughter in her arms.
© Copyright 2025 to Eric Niewoehner
- From Matthew 15, Mark 7 ↩︎