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


God don’t make junk!
How many people have heard that phrase before? 

And how many people believe it?

I suspect it’s actually quite difficult thing to believe.

It’s one thing, when I’m feeling badly about myself,
when what I do,
what I see myself as having to offer the world,
indeed even who I am as a person
feels unimportant, without value, not worthwhile —
in these moments it’s important and true (if not always helpful) to remind myself that it’s not actually about me.
That I do not belong to myself, but to the God who created me. My value as a person is larger than my role, or my own perception of myself. The deepest truth of my existence is not that I am socially useful or well-respected by my peers. The deepest truth of my existence is that I was made by and for the loving care of God. That I am loved and desired by the Creator of the universe. I may be broken, I may be in need of repair and redemption. But I am not junk. You are not junk. Because God don’t make junk.


***


Knowing that God didn’t make me (or you) junk is one thing. Believing that God don’t make junk at all is another. The saying is true beyond its therapeutic value. To believe that God don’t make junk, to really believe that — to affirm this truth in the face of a world that denies it constantly — is a difficult and even subversive thing to do.

Let’s consider for a moment the ever growing pile of debris that our world is amassing before our eyes. Let’s consider the refuse, the useless junk, the collateral damage, that is growing skyward before us. And then consider how easy it is to claim that God don’t make junk.

(1) Our tradition understands human beings to be the stewards of God’s creation. And yet we as a species have tended to dominate more than steward. And in our neglect and overconsumption we have created an excess of waste.
We have taken the abundance of creation and made something entirely new: we have made junk — waste, synthetics, byproducts. In the broad and generous space of divine creation, our habits of consumption have created the need for ever new spaces of death and decay — for waste and for junk.

(2) Consider, secondly, that the social and economic kingdom that we have established in the North Atlantic world has created enormous wealth, an enviable standard of living, and a flourishing culture industry. We are privileged, indeed, to be here in this place and in this time.
But how do we know that we are privileged?
We know because, now and again, our gaze catches the reality of those who do not share this privilege — even if they are necessary for its maintenance. We see the working and living condition of those who manufacture our clothing, and an ever increasing portion of our day-to-day consumer products.
We hear of the corrupt government regimes that keep these conditions in place. These realities are necessary, however. Aren’t they? Doesn’t someone have to do the dirty work? Not everyone in the global economy can live like us — we need some to be poor, to make our clothing, to manufacture our toasters. We need there to be those that do not partake of our privilege — we need some to be cast out, refused, we need some to be junk.

One final example.
(3) Anyone paying attention to our world right now will be aware of the fact that people are being killed at an alarming rate. That children are being killed — Muslim children, Christian children, Jewish children. In Gaza, In Iraq, In Israel, in Fergeson, children are being killed. This is an unspeakable evil. But it gets worse: the killing of children is being called necessary, unavoidable, collateral. The dying children in these various conflicts have become the byproducts, the waste, the junk of war.

God don’t make junk. But, it seems, we sure do.

I go into this long and rather depressing preface in order to set the stage for today’s Gospel reading. I want us to move into this story very aware of how easy it is to forget that God don’t make junk.

Today’s gospel is difficult. I won’t deny that. I won’t try to explain that away. I won’t try to defend the propriety of Jesus’ response to this Canaanite woman, or try to rescue Jesus’ divinity from this apparently very human moment; where Jesus at first appears dismissive of one of God’s children, then appears to change his mind because of the persuasive power of this woman — this foreign woman!

What I’m more interested in is what it is that Jesus appears change his mind about. What it is that this woman has caused Jesus to realize. I don’t think he learns something new from her so much as he is reminded of something he already knows. He is reminded, in short, that God don’t make junk.
But before looking at this story, let’s look to the Gospel reading from a couple of weeks ago.

Jesus feeds a crowd of over 5000 people with five loaves and two fishes. Out of a seeming scarcity, Jesus proves that there is enough, indeed there is more than enough. There is an abundance.

Here’s how Matthew puts it:

Then [Jesus] ordered the crowds to sit down on the grass. Taking the five loaves and the two fish, he looked up to heaven, and blessed and broke the loaves, and gave them to the disciples, and the disciples gave them to the crowds. [Now here’s the important bit]
And all ate and were filled; and they took up what was left over of the broken pieces, [which was] twelve baskets full.

All ate and were filled. There was more food than was needed. Out of a seeming scarcity, there came an abundance.
From what seemed to be not enough and an excuse to hoard – a mere five loaves and two fish – turned out to be more than enough – and reason to share.
There was so much food, in fact, that there were leftovers. But these “leftovers,” these scraps of bread and fish were not abandoned to rot in the sun. Or left for the dogs. They were not treated as waste or as — junk. Instead they were gathered up and saved by the disciples – twelve baskets full.
Now, why are these leftovers gathered up?
Because they were saving it for later?
Because it was consecrated bread and you can’t just leave consecrated bread lying around?
- Because Jesus doesn’t like to leave a mess?

Perhaps, but more importantly, they were gathered up because the banquet was over, and after the banquet there was nobody who was hungry. All ate and were filled. Everyone who came to the banquet received a meal. Not a snack, not scraps, not leftovers, but a meal. Jesus came, says John’s gospel, not simply that we might have life, but that we might have it in abundance. Jesus fed the 5000 not because they were grovelling for scraps, but because he knew there was enough for everyone to eat and to be filled.

Let’s stay with John’s gospel for another moment. His version of this story of the feeding of the five thousand is revealing. After everyone had eaten and become full, Jesus commands his disciples to gather up the scraps, as he does in Matthew’s version, but with an interesting addition.

"Gather up the fragments left over,[Jesus says] so that nothing may be lost."

So that Nothing may be lost. No food goes to waste, but more importantly, no one begs for scraps, no one is left hungry, no one is left out. All ate and were filled. There was no waste. There was no junk.

Jesus knows that God don’t make junk. Jesus knows that anyone who asks for bread or fish should not be given stones or snakes — or scraps. Jesus knows that God don’t make junk.

Everything that the Father gives me will come to me,[he says in John’s Gospel] and anyone who comes to me I will never drive away;
for I have come down from heaven, not to do my own will, but the will of him who sent me.
And this is the will of him who sent me, that I should lose nothing of all that he has given me, but raise it up on the last day.

Jesus knows that nothing is to be lost; no one is to be driven away; Jesus knows that God don’t make junk.

Jesus knows these things, and yet, for some reason…
- Perhaps he’s tired from all of the miracles, healings, and exorcisms he’s been performing.
- Perhaps he’s just trying to get away and doesn’t want to be interrupted.
For some reason Jesus seems to loose sight of the fact that God don’t make junk.

Today’s Gospel begins this way:
Jesus left that place and went away to the district of Tyre and Sidon.

He seems to have finally found some peace, away from the Jewish crowds, finally had an opportunity to mourn the death of his dear friend John the Baptist. He gets away, finally. But, the story continues…

…Just then a Canaanite woman from that region came out and started shouting

How many of you have offered a terse and dismissive response to someone you didn’t really have the time or energy to speak to at that moment? Especially when they’re shouting at you.
In any case, the Canaanite woman will not be so quickly dismissed.

She knows who Jesus is, "Have mercy on me, Lord, Son of David”
And despite Jesus’ seemingly dismissive remark --
"It is not fair to take the children's food and throw it to the dogs." -- she knows that God don’t make junk.

Or, perhaps, more importantly, she knows that Jesus knows that God don’t make junk.
"Yes, Lord, [she responds] yet even the dogs eat the crumbs that fall from their masters' table."

In this reply, I want to suggest, this woman reminds Jesus,
- not only of the important place of outcasts, of women, of Gentiles in Jesus’ mission.
- Not only that all creatures are all hungry creatures.

But that nothing should be lost. That there is no waste, no junk, in God’s creation. Though it appears to be so, she is not content with scraps. She is not asking to eat from under the master’s table. She is asking to be included at the master’s banquet.

- Because she knows,
and she knows that Jesus knows,
that anyone who comes to Jesus will not be driven away
- Because she knows,
And she knows that Jesus knows,
That at God’s banquet table there are no scraps, there are no hungry. There are no leftovers, there is no junk.
That at God’s banquet all eat and all are filled.

By the end of this encounter it is clear that Jesus does know all of this to be true.

We become aware of this, not only because Jesus commends the faith of this persistent woman and heals the daughter whose case she’d been pleading…

“Woman, great is your faith! Let it be done for you as you wish.”

We know that Jesus knows this because after this encounter he goes on to host another banquet. A banquet where there are over 4000 who are fed.

Just like the previous banquet…
the myth of scarcity (there were only 7 loaves and a few fish) is overcome by the reality of abundance
All ate and all were filled
the leftovers were gathered up — there was no junk.

What’s perhaps most interesting, however, is that this banquet seems to have been hosted in Gentile territory. This was a banquet not for the “lost sheep of Israel,” but for those who were seen to be outsiders to God’s people. This was a banquet where it would have been quite possible for the Canaanite woman to be in attendance. This was a banquet where the leftovers of bread and fish are gathered up. But more importantly, this is a banquet where the leftovers, the unelect, the collateral damage, the forgotten, the junk, those people who were seen to be outsiders to God’s people, are gathered up and fed. They are gathered up so that All could eat and All could be filled. They are gathered up so that none would be lost. They are gathered up, because God don’t make junk.

Amen.