“O woman, great is your faith! Be it done for you!" Reminiscere 2026

01. March 2026
Reminiscere
Matthew 15:21-28

This is the Word of the Lord that came to me, so that you may believe that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God, and that by believing, you may have life in His + Name. AMEN.

“And behold, a Canaanite woman from that region came out and was crying, ‘Have mercy on me, O Lord, Son of David; my daughter is severely oppressed by a demon.’” (Matthew 15:22). So it begins with a mother whose child is in the devil’s teeth. And she is outside. Outside Israel. Outside the promises as people count them. Outside, yet she comes to the Lord.

And the Lord—at first—does not answer. “But he did not answer her a word” (Matthew 15:23). That is the first offense. The silence of Jesus. We are trained to think: if He is good, He will answer quickly. If He loves, He will respond immediately. But He is Lord, not our servant. And faith is not taught by comfort alone. Sometimes it is taught by its absence.

You can hear in this Gospel what the Church has always learned under the cross: God’s own must deal with Him as He is. Israel did. Jacob did. Jacob was left alone in the night, and then the Man was there, and the wrestling began. “I will not let you go unless you bless me.” (Genesis 32:26) That’s not a pious euphemism but a tight grip. A refusal to let God be God on any terms other than mercy. Jacob limps away, blessed, yes, but also marked. That is how the Lord trains His people: blessing that comes through being brought down.

So, with this Canaanite woman, the Lord lays out a kind of catechesis in four tests. Not to crush her, but to bring her faith to speech, to prayer, and to pure dependence on Him.

First, the test of outward trouble. The daughter is oppressed. The enemy is not a spiritual idea. He is real. And the cross is not an illustration; it is the weight that pushes you to the ground. What happens? She comes to Christ. She does not seek earthly remedies. She does not start by explaining. She cries to Jesus for mercy. That is already faith: knowing where mercy is located. Not in the self. Not in the world. In Him.

And the disciples want her gone. Even the Church can grow tired of loud complaints. You think Jesus or His messengers are annoyed with your constant cries. But she is not silenced by her embarrassment. She keeps at it. The cross presses prayer from her. That is one of God’s strange mercies: when He gives the cross, He also drives us to the place where help actually is.

Second, the test of delay and seeming refusal. Not only silence, but a word that sounds like exclusion: “I was sent only to the lost sheep of the house of Israel” (Matthew 15:24). Here is the temptation: “Then I must not belong. Then the promise is for others.” That thought is poison. It is old. It is the devil’s favorite: to take the Word of God and turn it into a weapon against the sinner who needs it. To turn us away in despair.

But what does she do? She draws closer. She worships. She prays the simplest prayer in the Gospel: “Lord, help me” (Matthew 15:25). That is faith reduced to its essence. Not decorated. Not defended. Just need placed in the hands of the only Helper.

Third, the test is when faith is tempted to take the Lord’s words as if they were finally against you. Christ speaks the hard proverb: “It is not right to take the children’s bread and throw it to the dogs.” (Matthew 15:26) He is not being cruel for sport. He is drawing out what He is putting in her heart. He is pressing her to stop standing on anything in herself—pedigree, worth, claim—and to stand on Him alone.

And she does the unbelievable: she agrees with the verdict and still asks. No self-justification. No running away, offended. She answers, “Yes, Lord, yet even the dogs eat the crumbs that fall from their masters’ table.” (Matthew 15:27) Hear what she says: “Lord, I do not dispute Your holiness or my unworthiness. I dispute only this: that Your mercy is small.” She believes His table is abundant. She believes crumbs from Christ are more than enough to drive out a demon. She believes the master of the house is good.

Fourth, there is the test of unworthiness itself—the anxious conscience. This is where most prayers die. We pray, then remember ourselves. Our sin. Our filth. Our mixed motives. Our failures. And then we conclude: “Surely God has had enough of me.” But this woman teaches the Church how to pray as a sinner: confess unworthiness, but do not let it have the last word. Let Christ have the last word.

And Christ does. “O woman, great is your faith! Be it done for you as you desire.” (Matthew 15:28) Great—not because it is heroic, but because it clings to Christ when Christ is stripping away all other supports. Faith is not measured by an inner feeling. It is measured by where or whom it clings. Here, it clings to Christ alone.

Now, do not miss what is happening in the background. Jesus is Israel’s Messiah, yes. The Son of David, yes. But this Gospel already includes the nations. The “outside” woman is brought in. The “dogs” are fed. Not because the children have too much and God is feeling generous. Because this is who the Christ is: the One in whom God’s mercy spills over boundaries. The crumbs are not scraps. They are Christ’s own bounty.

And so the Church prays. Sometimes with tears. Sometimes with nothing but “Lord, help.” Sometimes with the silence of God hanging over the bed at night. But we pray. Not because praying is a work that earns. Because Christ is the only place left to go. And that is precisely where He wants you: not away from Him but at His feet.

So when the Lord seems slow, do not read that as absence. When He seems harsh, do not read that as final rejection. He is doing what He did with Jacob: wrestling you down to the promise. “I will not let you go unless you bless me.” (Genesis 32:26) That is not stubbornness; it is faith taught by the cross.

And when your own unworthiness screams—let it speak. Agree with it. Then answer it with Christ. The Gospel for Reminiscere is not “try harder.” The Gospel is that Jesus is the kind of Lord whose table overflows, whose mercy reaches outsiders, and whose “crumbs” raise the dead and cast out the devil.

So we come. And we keep coming. And He does not finally send away those who cry for mercy. He answers. In His way, in His time, with His gifts. And the end is not the demon, not the fear, not the silence. The end is the Lord’s Word: “Be it done for you” (Matthew 15:28). Amen.

This is the Word of the Lord that came to me, so that you may believe that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God, and that by believing, you may have life in His + Name. AMEN.

Rev. Christopher R. Gillespie
St. John Ev. Lutheran Church & School - Sherman Center
Random Lake, Wisconsin