The Gospel Dog

But religious knowledge comes incrementally and slowly.
And religion is like any other activity.
It is not easy to do it well.
-Karen Armstrong

The wholesale pursuit of "life changing" experiences are a paradox of our time. In what is, perhaps, the most affluent nation in history, we seem hell bent of 'life change." It is a script being played out time and again in the media. It may be a measure of the "born again" staple of evangelical religion that we are so inhabited with this pursuit. "Remember whenever you're down and in, the only way is up and out," sings the lyric of Hey Look Me Over. But what of the up and outs. How do they change? It is a provocative question for our time. I want to suggest that the life changing promotions of everything from bromides and religion are so thoughtlessly applied as to have no meaning. They have become, rather than a source of inspiration, the tap root of dissatisfaction.

Bring on the dogs. The Bible, along with most of western civilization, have few kind words for our "best friend." Years back, when I looked into the status of dogs in the scriptures, I found universal disgust. Canines are panned in the pages of holy writ. If you want to deliver a put down, in biblical terms, call it a dog.

Were it not for the dog reference, I might have missed this little tale, buried in the Gospel of Matthew.

From there Jesus took a trip to Tyre and Sidon. They had hardly arrived when a Canaanite woman came down from the hills and pleaded, "Mercy, Master, Son of David! My daughter is cruelly afflicted by an evil spirit." Jesus ignored her. The disciples came and complained, "Now she's bothering us. Would you please take care of her? She's driving us crazy." Jesus refused, telling them, "I've got my hands full dealing with the lost sheep of Israel." Then the woman came back to Jesus, went to her knees, and begged. "Master, help me." He said, "It's not right to take bread out of children's mouths and throw it to dogs." She was quick: "You're right, Master, but beggar dogs do get scraps from the master's table." Jesus gave in. "Oh, woman, your faith is something else. What you want is what you get!" Right then her daughter became well.

It is a tale of encounter. The Master meets a Canaanite woman. She is not only a foreigner. She represents the seductress whose marriage to good Israelite boys threatened the early life of the community in the promised land. It is also a tale of insult. Jesus, infers the common wisdom, "she is a pagan, then she is a dog." To that point Jesus' world was one made up of two teams; the children and the dogs.

Owing to the woman's persistence another world came into view. Jesus found what he was looking for in that conversation with the forbidden pagan. Isn't that usually the way it is when we meet the enemy as a human being? Matthew signals that Jesus' mission was transformed from that of a narrow slice of the Israelite camp to a universal world embracing Gospel. Even for Jesus, religious knowledge came incrementally and slowly, built on in depth conversation with the uppity Canaanite.

Now, those with close association with canines are not surprised by this story. It is always they way it is with dogs. They do not get their good habits not from a "born again" moment, but from the persistent careful training of a master. They may learn to bite in a moment of cruelty. But they learn loyalty in a lifetime of considerate treatment. And there is no better companion than a loyal dog. They are the teachers of the lessons of loyalty and empathy.

Maybe the metaphor of dog training as life in the Spirit is what it will take to build a deep running empathy in the human family. At least in this one story, the Bible gets dogs right. I am wondering how we might apply the lessons of life training in a world that lusts after just one more experience that "changed my life."

Let a dog teach you a thing or two.