“Just the Crumbs”
“Just the Crumbs”
Matthew 15:10-28
Matthew 15:10-28
In the name of the Living God and the Risen Christ. Amen.
He was on his death bed. He could no longer speak. He had reached fame and importance beyond his imagination. He lay dying as one of the most prolific writers in human history, and one of the top three influential people of the last 1,000 years. His writings shook the foundations of Christendom. But after the death of Martin Luther at 3am on February 18, 1546, his friends found in his pocket the last words he ever wrote: “We are beggars, all—this is true.”
When everything else is stripped away—our money, our status, our accomplishments—when everything is purged away and we prepare to meet God, we are all the same: beggars before the One Great King.
There are some who may be surprised at this when their end finally comes. There’s the dead medieval Bishop I ran into once, entombed in one of the Cambridge University College chapels. He lived all his life in wealth and luxury, hardly giving a thought to the needs of others, but gave strict orders that when at his death he should be dressed humbly, as an impoverished monk—so that God would note that he repented. But God is not fooled by appearances.
There are others who feel somehow that the position, power, and prestige of this life can be carried with them to the next. Like Egyptian Pharaohs, they gather around themselves everything possible, as if who you are in the world’s eyes or what you accumulate will go with you. But you can’t take it with you, can you?
Yes, Martin Luther had it right in the end. When it comes to our standing before God and how we enter eternal life, we are beggars, all—this is true.
But on the other hand, there are some people who understand this truth long before their death, and in fact live life in humbleness before God and service towards others. This is the way of wisdom. We have an example of such wisdom in the gospel reading from Matthew 15. Here she is, a woman with no legal status in her society, forbidden to approach or speak with a man. She is a Canaanite heathen gentile “dog” from a Jewish perspective. (That’s what they called gentiles in the First Century). She has a daughter afflicted with an evil spirit—an unclean demon, which means her daughter and their household is regarded as sin-infested, from their world’s perspective. She is a beggar, and she knows it. She has nothing to offer Jesus in exchange for his help: no bartering chip to play on except his mercy. That’s why when she comes before Jesus, she falls at his feet, cries out, and pleads, literally, “Mercy me, Lord, Son of David.”
Jesus does not answer a word. Perhaps because he wanted the situation to unfold further; perhaps to test her faith; perhaps for the sake of the disciples, for she starts to bother them too, calling after them. But the “heathen woman, unclean gentile dog” persists in her begging. She kneels before Jesus, and this time even leaves out the messianic title “Son of David” and simply says, “Lord, help me.”
Jesus’ eventual response to her seems cruel and bigoted for our modern sensibilities: “It is not fair to take the children’s food and throw it to the dogs”, Jesus says. But hear me out on this: in the context of their world, their culture, he was absolutely correct. Jesus’ physical, earthly ministry was not to the surrounding nations. He was a Jewish prophet, sent among his own people. In fact, he had only gone out to the area of Tyre and Sidon to escape the crowds and to rest.
And his words, “It is not right to take the children’s bread and toss it to their dogs,” is also correct. The image here is of a master’s household, where little house dogs would sit underneath the children’s table waiting for something to drop. But what master would take food away from his children and toss it to the dogs?!
All this being true, yet still she persists. Note she does not say, “Hey, you male-chauvinist, bigoted Jewish oppressor, you have no right to treat me that way! You’re about to get canceled!” She actually agrees with him. Yes, I am a beggar, a dog, but I’m not asking for the children’s bread, I only want the crumbs.
Just the crumbs are enough for me. It is this response which Jesus describes as “great faith.” It is great because she knew who she was, but also what he could give her. Just the crumbs from this king would be more than enough. And that is our faith, too. We know who we are (beggars), but what he can give (mercy).
We are beggars, all—this is true. That’s why a Lutheran service begins with the confession of our sins. We do not come into this church with everything together, our sanctified ducks all in a row. We enter this place as sinners, broken, unclean—all of us, regardless of the color of our skin, the amount in our bank account, or the letters behind our name. As the adage goes, “the church is not a mausoleum for saints, but a hospital for sinners.” So if you feel more like an “unclean gentile-dog” this morning than a “all put-together, Bible-believin’ saint,” then you’ve come to the right place.
We come to God begging, “Mercy me, Lord, son of David.” And we come to receive the bread of life in the Lord’s Supper as little dogs who just want the crumbs of mercy.
The Canaanite women knew who she was—a beggar. But more importantly, she knew what Jesus could give: mercy and grace. He is the man of mercy, the God of Grace. So full of mercy and grace and love and forgiveness is he that even the crumbs from this master’s table are more than enough for us. So full of mercy is he, that though he was very God from eternity, he became human in this earthly flesh for us; humbled himself becoming obedient even to a death on the cross; took on our sin and suffering for us. This Jesus, Son of David, was a messiah of a different kind: his final hours left him hanging naked, beaten, bleeding, spit-upon as a common criminal on the cross.
But he did not stay dead. He rose in victory—our victory— so that all who are now beggars before him are given the assurance of forgiveness, life and salvation. All who are beggars before him—Jew or gentile, slave or free, male or female, rich or poor, educated or ignorant, of all tribes and languages and ethnicities, all are his children and receive the bread of life. Because of who he is and what he has done, we are all given grace and mercy in abundance.
So, beggars all, know who you are. But know even more who he is: your master who has become your servant.
Come soon Lord Jesus. Amen.