Twenty-second Pentecost
Mark 12:38-44, Hebrews 9:24-28; Ruth 3:1-5, 4:13-17
I have learned that you have to be careful about what you think you know—what you think to be true—what you think to be reality. Sometimes the things that we think to be true and real prove to be quite different than what we thought them to be. Take a simple image—a person of color—say an African-American running as fast as he can—and not far behind him three other men running as fast as they can—clearly trying to catch the first man—the lead runner glances over his shoulder—tries to exert a little more effort to escape but the other three men are closing on him—finally one of them lunges forward and grabs the lead man’s shoulder—he spins trying to escape—the second pursuer also now dives at the runners feet—he trips and falls. A description of what? A racially motivated hate crime about to unfold—or maybe a criminal fleeing from the scene of a crime—police in hot pursuit—a scene straight out of Law and Order—or maybe the scene is one that will be repeated over and over later today during broadcasts of the football games. There is definitely more than one way to see the world around us—it all depends on the context not only of the incident but also of the observer or listener.
Back some 30 years or so ago there was a very familiar riddle told that at the time would cause great confusion for those hearing it yet today is usually answered with minimal difficulty (depending, of course upon your age and life experience). The riddle went like this—A terrible car crash occurs and a young boy injured in the accident is rushed to the emergency room. The ER doctor takes one look at the child and declares that surgery is needed immediately. He calls for the surgeon who goes into the operating room and then immediately comes back out of the room and tells the doctor that he will have to find another surgeon. The Doctor is stunned and asks the surgeon, “Why? What’s wrong?” The surgeon replies, “I can’t operate on my own son.” Which leads to the riddle’s question, “The surgeon is not the boys father. How can this be?” Back in the 60’s this question would puzzle most people endlessly. The problem, of course, was that everyone assumed the surgeon had to be a man. The idea of a female surgeon was simply beyond the realm even of imagination. That the surgeon would be the child’s mother was inconceivable. A fact that would still be true today if we lived in a place like Saudi Arabia. But we live in a different time—some might say more enlightened. We see the world differently—hear words in different ways.
So it is that we encounter our Gospel lesson for today—and I would invite you to see and hear it differently—in more than one way. Jesus would have us focus on a widow who brings her offering to the temple. Now, I want you to realize that I had nothing to do with selecting this lesson for today. The fact that we are in the midst of our stewardship appeal is purely accidental. If this text should happen to relate to stewardship the only explanation has to be that it is an act of God—That and the fact that there is no topic other than love that Jesus mentions more often in the New Testament—The Bible contains over 900 references to and discussions of money—So maybe God considers this topic to be one at least worth considering. Jesus presents two figures in our lesson—the scribes and a widow. Our lesson begins with Jesus offering words of caution about appearances. Jesus focuses first on the scribes—The Scribes were a religious group that prided themselves on their work around the temple—They were seen as the holy ones—the keepers of the laws and rituals that were the central part of life in the temple where everyone came to worship. The temple was one of the truly grand and glorious places to visit. Jesus and his disciples probably looked a bit out of place in the grandeur of the temple—they, after all, were from the north country of the Galilee—country folk and fishermen—more common than the cosmopolitan and urbane crowd of Jerusalem—In all probability they would not have been dressed at all as the religious leaders of the temple—Scribes who Jesus describes as decked out in their long robes and strutting around the market square—Celebrities of the faith who were given the best seats at social events and were used to the best of food and drink.
Of course the funds that paid for this rather extravagant lifestyle came from the common people who paid their religious dues and taxes as required by the rituals and laws established by these scribes. Jesus clearly challenges the scribes and their reading of the religious laws—He saw them reading the law in such a way that it made victims of the poorest in society. The law that had been intended to guide and direct people to do justice and to help them live good lives of peace and caring for the community had become in the hands of the Scribes a vehicle that advanced their power and prestige—They had made their role as interpreters of the law a source of ever expanding power—they had become absolute arbiters of truth—Rather then helping or healing the pains of those in want or need—the scribes had become more and more a political and religious group that would legislate morality without regard for context or conditions A condition not so far removed from having millionaire politicians legislate welfare reforms for people of poverty whose lifestyle is unknown to the law makers—or having various religious special interest groups recommend and provide for the adoption of policies for the starving and over populated communities of the world based on moral standards that are derived from the post-industrial safety of a developed first world nation. Enter the widow—a poor widow—as if there could be any other kind. She comes to the temple to fulfill her obligation under the law as defined by the scribes—or maybe she came out of faithful commitment to her God. And Jesus and the disciples are sitting opposite the treasury—a perfect place from which to do some people watching since everyone who would be a good and religious person would have to bring forth their offering. Some brought great bags of money—significant offerings that even from across the way revealed that these were “rich people”—And then there was the widow—who puts in her two copper coins. Jesus knows and announces that such a gift—such a small insignificant gift would have been an a front to God if it were not offered by a widow—if it were not all that she had to offer. Jesus tells his disciples that others “have contributed out of their abundance, but she out of her poverty”. The standard reading of this text is to see it as creating a case for proportional giving.
You know the idea—to give a percentage of your income—the usual guide is the scriptural admonition to tithe—to strive to give 10% back to God and live on 90%. Such an approach has had some interesting moments in the modern media as we struggle with the question of how much is enough—both to live on and to give to others. Some years back you might remember the election year that the press disclosed the generosity of all the candidates in the presidential campaign. In the year before the campaign, it was disclosed—Gary Hart gave a total of $140 to all charitable causes—Jesse Jackson, an advocate for the poor, gave a total of $500 to charity—even though his taxable income was well over $100,000—and Ronald Reagan, who advocated that private citizens should pick up the slack of slashed welfare programs—gave only $2000 a year—less than 1% of an income of several hundred thousand dollars. The highest giver was Walter Mondale, who gave around $13,500 to benevolences, just about 3% of his $500,000 income. Times don’t change all that much—a few weeks back I walked into the family room as my son was watching a feature on the next governor of California—the portion of the story that I heard was reporting on his tremendous generosity in giving away over $2 million dollars last year to charitable causes—the feature then reported that Mr. Schwartzenegger’s income last year was estimated at close to $1 billion dollars—in other words, his charitable giving constituted around two-tenths of a per cent.
While Lutherans are actually among the more generous contributors to churches and charities of the major church denominations—we still average only about 2-3% of our income. Jesus appears to be impressed by the contribution that we might have missed had he not pointed her out to us. We give a percentage. Our stewardship consultants in the church regularly advise us to stress percentage giving. They tell us to urge people to move up just one percentage in their giving for the next year—if you’re giving 2%—try giving 3%—If you are giving 7% try giving 8%. These same consultants tell us that if every member of most congregations gave just 5% (a half tithe) the church would receive double its budget—think of the ministry we could do! Of course the problem with percentage giving is that it can delude us into thinking that if we meet a certain level—a certain percentage of giving—that we have fulfilled all righteousness—met all of God’s expectations. I know of a couple who began their marriage tithing—giving 10% of their income to their church—when they first came out of college that was no big deal—not always easy but not all that much money—but they both became quite successful—their income grew and they began to feel that the 10% was not really much of a sacrifice in relationship to their blessings so they increased the amount to 12%—then 15%—they now give over 20% and are amazed as they put it—at how God keeps testing them with new opportunities to grow in their stewardship.
Would Jesus be impressed? One reading of this text indicates that the only percentage that impressed Jesus that day in the temple was the giving of 100%—As Jesus said, “she out of her poverty has put in everything she had, all she had to live on.” The one who commanded us to love God with all of our soul, mind, heart and strength is most impressed that this woman did just that—gave all. This reading of the Gospel actually calls into question our formulas for giving—proportional giving may be one approach but it is not the widow’s approach. Then again—maybe there is another reading of this text. What if Jesus pointed to this widow giving her last two coins not as an example of faithful stewardship but as an example of the terrible abuse inflicted by the Scribes and the law on the people of God. What if the tone of Jesus’ voice in our Gospel lesson is not the sympathetic and caring concern for the faith filled example of a sacrificial follower of God but rather the hard edged criticism of a system out of control—A system that makes a poor widow have to choose between fulfilling what she is told by the Scribes to be God’s expectations of her—and living. The very warning Jesus gave at the beginning of this lesson about those who devour the very widow’s houses is demonstrated before our very eyes.
This is stewardship from obligation—giving to avoid the guilt—This is the procession of unemployed individuals who visit the church looking for a little gas money to get to their job or a few dollars to buy milk for their children—They stand there with their hands out assuring me that a few dollars will send them on their way and make me feel less guilty all day—This isn’t stewardship—it is spiritual extortion—Jesus is no more impressed by this kind of generosity than by the proportional giving strategy. Are you confused yet about stewardship? At least as far as this text is concerned—I know I am. What exactly are we supposed to do? I think we can agree that we are supposed to give something to God—The problem is answering the questions, “How much?” and “For what reason?” In these days of pop culture religion we could follow the simplistic example of asking “What would Jesus Do?”—but then we better be ready for the answer—When it came time for Jesus to demonstrate how much he loved us it does not appear that he even considered 10% or even 50%—He quite simply stretched out his arms and died—He gave his all. He gave his all for each of us—And that was not an act of spiritual extortion or legalistic demand—it was an act of grace and love—To give as an act of grace and love—to give because it feels right and good and just and true—and life giving. For that is what Jesus was most concerned about—life giving—eternal life—a gift given and received—received and given to others—in forms unexpected—the riddle of stewardship yet unanswered.
Amen.