"dog's friend" by Jarbas Ribeiro on flickr

So speak and so act as those who are to be judged by the law of liberty. For judgment will be without mercy to anyone who has shown no mercy; mercy triumphs over judgment. What good is it, my brothers and sisters, if you say you have faith but do not have works? Can faith save you? If a brother or sister is naked and lacks daily food, and one of you says to them, "Go in peace; keep warm and eat your fill," and yet you do not supply their bodily needs, what is the good of that? So faith by itself, if it has no works, is dead. (James 2:12-17)

From there [Jesus] set out and went away to the region of Tyre. He entered a house and did not want anyone to know he was there. Yet he could not escape notice, but a woman whose little daughter had an unclean spirit immediately heard about him, and she came and bowed down at his feet. Now the woman was a Gentile, of Syrophoenician origin. She begged him to cast the demon out of her daughter. He said to her, "Let the children be fed first, for it is not fair to take the children's food and throw it to the dogs." But she answered him, "Sir, even the dogs under the table eat the children's crumbs." Then he said to her, "For saying that, you may go — the demon has left your daughter." So she went home, found the child lying on the bed, and the demon gone. (Mark 7:24-30)
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Unless you’ve been living under a rock, you can’t help but know that election season is in full swing. We’ve survived two political conventions filled with speakers talking about abundance, wealth, poverty, charity, welfare, healthcare, and foreign affairs. Everybody is trying to sell their idea for how wealth and opportunity are to be divided, and how to heal the broken parts of our common life.

And while presidential candidates are building platforms around who gets to sit at which table, which crumbs are allowed to fall, and which crumbs to catch and put back on the table, in today’s gospel, Jesus and this Syrophoenician woman are similarly butting heads over who gets fed with God’s abundance and who deserves the bread of life.

Just one chapter prior to this encounter, in Mark 6, we read about Jesus feeding the 5000. It’s the same story we read from John earlier this summer. Five loaves, two fish, thousands of people eating until satisfied, twelve baskets left over. Incredible abundance of both compassion and real, tangible food.

But now, one chapter later, Jesus is no longer functioning out of a mode of abundance, but rather scarcity. Jesus sees this woman in need, knows of her Gentile origin, and makes a snap judgment, distinguishing between “children” (the chosen ones of Israel) and “dogs” (the Gentiles, that is, everybody else). In a baffling and even troubling move, Jesus says, “no, this bread I have in my pocket isn’t for you.” And even worse, he calls her a dog. This is not Jesus at his finest here, we can all admit that.

But the woman, quick in her logic and desperate for hope and healing, doesn’t care whether Jesus is supposed to be for the Israelites or the Gentiles. She doesn’t care if she is on the inside or on the outside. All that she cares about is the fact that her daughter needs healing, and badly, and that for no good reason, this miracle healer named Jesus has wandered off the beaten path to her village. And if Jesus really has all of the abundance of God to share, then she’s not going to settle for being told that he doesn’t have anything for her.

“Sir,” she says, “even the dogs under the table eat the crumbs that the children drop.” And just like that, he is bested in the argument; humbled and convicted. So he changes his “no” to a “yes” and tells the woman, “Your daughter is healed.”

When you look at our world, who does our society say are the children and who are the dogs? Who are the ones eating at the table and who are the ones underneath waiting for scraps to fall down to them? Who are the ones in need that confront us in our abundance?

Are the children the ones who work hard and get a good education, and are the dogs the ones who, due to poor choices or poor circumstance, don’t even finish high school? Are the children the ones who have the money and are the dogs the ones who don’t? Are the children the intact, nuclear families in our community and are the dogs the single parents? Are you considered a child if you are employed, or straight, or sober, or in good mental health? And are you treated as a dog if you aren’t?

Today’s gospel digs into us. It confronts us. It is disquieting. Because we know that we make snap judgments all the time, and we know that we live in a world that distinguishes between children and dogs.

Jesus’ encounter with the Syrophoenician woman pushes us to answer the question: Who gets God’s bread, the children or the dogs?

And the answer, as our gospel teaches us, is simple: God’s bread is for everybody. If we are to take James to heart when he says, “mercy triumphs over judgment,” then it also becomes clear that in God’s eyes, there is no distinction between children and dogs, but only mercy for us all.

So whether you are sitting here feeling like a chosen child or dejected dog, I want you to know that God loves you and that you are forgiven and that God will make all things new. And God makes no distinction between rich and poor, rich in spirit and poor in spirit.

The healing power of Jesus is not just for the Israelites, but also for the Gentile woman and her daughter. The abundance of God’s love is not just for faithful worshipers, it is for everyone. The gifts and blessings we have in life are not just for us, they are to be shared with others. The real, transformative, compassionate love of God is not just for our neighbors, it is also for strangers, outcasts, and even our enemies.

James says, “You do well if you really fulfill the royal law according to the scripture, "You shall love your neighbor as yourself.” In the same way that we have been shown mercy out of God’s abundance, so we are called to share the abundance we have been given, without partiality, without judgment, but only showing mercy to the ones, like the Syrophoenician woman, who confront and convict us with their need.

There’s a famous quote out there that seminarians like to use when they talk about call and vocation. It’s a quote by the theologian Frederick Buechner and it reads, “The place God calls you to is the place where your deep gladness and the world's deep hunger meet.”

I’d propose a variation on this quote. I’d say that “the place God calls you to is the place where your deep abundance and the world’s deep hunger meet.” Because each one of us has something to give. Each one of us has some sort of abundance that we can use to help the deep need of a neighbor. Each one of us has crumbs to share.

I want you to think about all of the abundance that you have in your own life: A house, a car, an education, a savings account, a job, a safe neighborhood, a bicycle, health insurance, free time, computer skills, cooking skills, car-fixing skills, sewing skills, babysitting skills, a closet full of clothes and shoes, good credit, a sense of humor, a listening ear. There is abundance here.

And this weekend, as we begin our new program year here at St. Timothy, I want you to think about all of the abundance here as well. The programs for youth and adults, the book studies and Bible studies and fellowship groups, the service and outreach projects, the music, the healing services, the prayer line, hospital visits, the arts that flourish, the volunteers who tend the garden, the teachers, the encouragers, the cooks, the organizers, the generous gifts of time and money that flow through this place. There is abundance here.

And our abundance, as individuals and as a congregation, does not exist solely for the insiders. Our blessings are not just for ourselves. So again and again, we need a reminder – even as Jesus did in today’s gospel – that we are called to be generous and to show mercy.

Today, each one of us will get a crumb of bread…from the Lord’s Table. We will receive a small taste of bread that is for us the assurance of Christ’s love and the super-abundance of God’s grace and forgiveness. And even this small taste of bread convicts us to open up our hands and let crumbs spill out for all to eat.

So what will you do with all of your crumbs?