"Mind the Crumbs" | The Rev. Heidi Thorsen | August 20, 2023

May the words of my mouth and the meditations of all our hearts be pleasing to you, O God, our Rock and our Redeemer. Amen.

As the mother of a toddler, I’ve become much more familiar with the crumbs under the table. Each mealtime produces a new crop dusting of crumbs— bits of food ranging from actual breadcrumbs, to smashed raspberries, scrambled eggs, and chicken. The popular philosophy of the moment around how to feed toddlers, called “baby-led weaning,” suggests that babies can eat just about anything, with a few modifications. Simply put the food in front of the child, in safely cut pieces, and let the child do with it as they please— whether this is putting it in their mouth, or dropping it on the floor, or rubbing it luxuriously in their hair. We discovered that one of my daughter’s favorite foods is fish the hard way, when we put a few sardines in front of her, she devoured them, and then— with great satisfaction— leaned back in her high chair and rubbed her fingers through her hair like this [slowly combs hands through hair]. My husband compared cleaning up after the baby that night to cleaning up the seal pen at the zoo— and frankly, that is what it smelled like.

Because of the sheer amount of food that ends up on the floor, it is not uncommon for these crumbs to end up back on my daughter’s plate, after they have been dropped. It’s hard to see a slice of perfectly ripe peach go to waste. And so, we don’t waste it. We pick it up and try again. To be fair, we keep the floor in that part of the kitchen pretty clean. And also, to be fair, my husband and I regularly find ourselves eating off the floor too, picking up the (mostly clean) food and modeling how to eat it with exaggerated sounds like “mmmm, delicious!” If it’s good enough for the baby, it’s good enough for us. Suffice it to say, we’ve become a lot more familiar with the crumbs under the table.

Which leads us to our Gospel passage for today: the story of the woman from Canaan who comes to Jesus to ask him to heal her daughter. She must have been persistent, because Jesus’ disciples start to complain, asking him to send her away. So that is what Jesus does. He turns to the woman and says that he was only sent to help the lost sheep of Israel— implying that she is not his responsibility. The woman tries again and Jesus shuts her down further, saying, “It is not fair to take the children’s food and throw it to the dogs.” Then the woman responds with these brave words: “Yes Lord, yet even the dogs eat the crumbs that fall from their masters’ table.” Something in the conversation shifts. Jesus no longer pushes the woman away and instead he turns to her, praises her, and tells her that her daughter will be well— and the woman’s daughter is healed of her affliction.

This passage is often cited as an example of how Jesus, the Son of God, did one of the most human things in the course of his ministry— he changed his mind. He was not going to meet this woman’s request for Jesus to heal her daughter, but then he changes his mind and decides to heal her, because of the Canaanite woman’s persistence and faith. Or perhaps it isn’t so much that the Canaanite woman changes Jesus’ mind, but rather that she reminds him who he is. She reminds Jesus that he came not only for the lost sheep of Israel, but for all the lost, the hurting, the confused. She reminds him how his ministry has already reached beyond borders of ethnicity and social norms, reaching Roman centurions and tax collectors. In a way, this woman from Canaan understands Jesus and his mission better than Jesus’ own disciples, who were all too ready to push the woman away. She understands who Jesus is, and implores him to act out of that deep and centered place of love.

The Canaanite woman understands Jesus even better than she realizes, I think, in her choice of metaphor– the crumbs under the table. I wonder if this image reminded Jesus of the feeding of the five thousand, just a few steps earlier on his journey in the Gospel of Matthew. And I wonder if Jesus thought of these words again, very soon afterward, when Jesus once again found himself in a crowd, this time in a gathering of four thousand people, and fed them with just seven loaves of bread and a few fish. Both of these feeding miracles occur on either side of Jesus’ meeting with the Canaanite woman, in Chapter 14 and in Chapter 15 respectively– and I think that is significant. In both of these stories Jesus guides his disciples to distribute a small amount of bread and fish to feed a great number of people. And in both cases, the disciples gather up the broken pieces that are left over. They gather up the bready, fishy crumbs (my daughter would be so pleased with that image), so that nothing is lost. These stories of Jesus feeding the multitudes show that Jesus values the crumbs, as he instructs the disciples to gather up every last bit. And these stories also proclaim a vision of a world where there is more than enough for everyone. There is no one left on the sidelines to scramble for the crumbs that are left on the floor.

Today, I’d like to invite you to reflect on what it means in your own life to value the crumbs. To value them like Jesus, who had his disciples gather up baskets of food after feeding thousands of people. To value them like the woman from Canaan, who proclaimed that she would rather have crumbs than nothing at all– reminding Jesus that there is more than enough for everyone. To value the crumbs like my daughter, who finds that a raspberry thrown on the ground in a moment of enthusiasm is still a raspberry, and still delicious to eat. What would it look like to praise God for the crumbs in your life?

I think of this practice in both a literal and a symbolic sense. First, consider the actual material of crumbs in the Gospel of Matthew. Jesus’ disciples literally gathered up the crumbs, the leftovers, and put them into baskets. What they did with them next, we don’t know. But it seems likely that those baskets of food kept on feeding people. This reminds me of people in our own community who do the important work of gathering up the crumbs– redistributing food to those who need it. Haven’s Harvest is a program that does exactly this, identifying sources of leftover food such as restaurants and cafeterias, and arranging for volunteers to pick that food up and bring it to people in need. But I’m not only reminded of Haven’s Harvest. I’m also reminded of individuals who have gone out of their way [Geri Mauhs is one of them] to pick up and donate food when there is good food to be shared. These individuals remind me that nonprofits can’t solve all the problems of the world, no matter how important their missions may be. We, as individuals, have to choose to be a part of this work too. We have to choose to minimize our waste, and to share our wealth with others. This needs to be more than charity. Like Jesus and the Canaanite woman, we have to advocate for a world where there is more than enough for everyone, and no one has to beg for scraps. 

Speaking of scraps, I am also mindful that we as human beings are leaving a lot of crumbs behind in our wake– crumbs of plastic and other waste that are ending up in landfills, in the ocean, and on our own streets. What would it look like for us to be mindful of these crumbs? To gather them into baskets, like Jesus’ disciples, and put them to some other use?

These human problems, like waste and hunger, can feel overwhelming. And this leads me to the spiritual dimension of what it means to appreciate the crumbs, like Jesus. This is the sustenance that keeps me going: the practice of seeing holiness in the smallest bits of our lives, the crumbs that we might otherwise ignore or sweep under the table.

Not every day is a miracle. I don’t expect crowds of thousands to be fed by some modern day magic trick with loaves and fishes. But I do expect to see breadcrumbs of God’s grace every day of my life. Sometimes those crumbs can look like the wind blowing through the trees, in a way that reminds me of our breath and what a gift it is to be alive. Sometimes the crumbs look like a stranger’s kindness in the grocery store. Sometimes the crumbs look like my daughter’s actual crumbs, falling down from her high chair, reminding me to live in the moment– not to mind the mess but to simply be present to the wonder and chaos of raising a toddler. The Canaanite woman knew how precious life is when she came to ask Jesus for healing, for help for her own daughter. The Canaanite woman knew how to look for blessing even in the crumbs– which is not to say that she did not deserve a seat at the table. She does, as Jesus later acknowledges! It’s simply to say that the Canaanite woman knew to appreciate even the smallest blessings, perhaps because of her position as an outsider. It’s a perspective that Jesus needed to see, and one that we still need today.

I invite you to pick an actual object this week: something in your life that is frequently overlooked. A doorstop, a kitchen spoon, a stick. Take a moment to pray with that object: to give thanks for this complex and beautiful life that God has made, and to ask God how the holiness of everyday things might lead you to deeper faith or action. There is so much beauty in the breadcrumbs of our lives. Mind the crumbs, and give thanks. Amen.