Mark 12: 38-44 (13:1-3)
Mission Sunday
8th
November 2015
We know little about her.[1] We don’t know her name. We don’t know her age. We don’t know where she was born, the name of
her husband, whether they had any children.
Maybe they had children, but they predeceased her. We know little about her. We know that she is a widow. And we know that she
is poor. Really poor, with only two small coins to her
name—and they were tiny—worth very little.
We don’t know what happened in her life, what trauma, what hardship left
her almost penniless. That’s all the
text says.
What we do know is that she gave her
last two coins to the Temple treasury in Jerusalem. This is something for which to be commended,
I guess. That’s how she’s often
portrayed in countless sermons: the widow who gave in her poverty, the woman
who gave all she had, we’re told, as if to shame the wealthy who gave in their
abundance, costing them little. It’s no wonder that this text has been used in
countless stewardship sermons over the centuries. But before we praise her for sacrificial
stewardship, there are several things we need to know.
We must not romanticize this story. We
must not sentimentalize this story. There’s nothing sentimental about it! And don’t praise her unless you’re willing to
walk in her sandals, if she had sandals.
To be a widow at that time was scary.
And it was a frightening thing to be both a widow and poor in Jesus’
time.
She
has two small coins, basically nothing.
And she puts them in the offering box of the Temple treasury. Why would she do this? She would have nothing left to survive
on. And there was no safety net for her. She was living on the margin of society,
powerless, of little or no value to society, invisible. No husband.
No family. No pension. No social status. No social security. Nothing.
Why would she do this? Perhaps she didn’t need the coins. Perhaps she knew that her life was close to
an end. Perhaps she was sick,
dying. We don’t know. She probably didn’t live long after she
placed the coins in the box.
The leaders of the Temple certainly didn’t
care about her. That’s clear. That’s why Jesus warns his disciples about
the scribes. The scribes are not really
scribes as we think of them, they’re not taking notes, they’re not
secretaries. The scribes are leaders
that made up the religious, economic, and political establishment that,
together, formed the Temple in Jerusalem.
The Temple was not just a building where people worshipped God. It was a religious, economic, and political
organization. It was an old, powerful,
wealthy institution that was also, at the time, in collaboration with the Roman
Empire. That’s why Jesus warns his
followers, “Beware of the scribes, who like to walk around in long robes, and
to be greeted with respect in the marketplaces, and to have the best seats in
the synagogues and places of honor at banquets!
They devour widows’ houses and for the sake of appearance say long
prayers. They will receive their
condemnation” (Mark 12:38-40).
Did you catch that? “They devour widow’s houses.” We know that scribes, these officers of the
religious establishment, were allowed to handle the financial affairs of
deceased men because their widows were considered incapable of doing so on their
own. The scribes took a percentage of
the assets. As a result, the system was
corrupt, subject to abuse and embezzlement.[2] Even though the Torah—the Torah, that is, the Law, God’s Law— specifically demands
the protection of both the orphan and the widow (in other words, the most
vulnerable in society)—it’s clear that the Temple was doing neither. The Temple, according Jesus, had lost its
purpose, lost its vision. The scribes
walk about in their robes, taking advantage of their power, privilege, and status,
talking about spiritual things, offering beautiful, poetic—and long—prayers,
putting on airs, all the while they are spiritually and economically exploiting God’s people.
This is why Jesus is furious with
the Temple, or what the Temple had become in his day, what aspects of the faith
had become under Roman occupation. Jesus
wasn’t being anti-Jewish—he wasn’t against himself. He was against
the abuses of religion. He’s condemning
false religion, judging the sinful effect when religion sells its soul to the powers
that be for power, status, privilege, when political and economic ideologies
pervert and distort the spirit of true faith, which is care for the orphan and
the widow and the foreigner and the poor—justice, fairness, wholeness! That’s what God wants for all God’s children,
not just for some. (See Isaiah 1:17 & James 1:27!) That’s what God demands of us. That’s what’s at the heart of Judaism and
therefore it’s also at the heart of Christianity. Jesus condemns the Temple.
This is a tough message to
hear. How do we know? Because the disciples aren’t paying attention
to what’s going on around them. They
haven’t heard a thing. They can’t see
what’s in front of them because what’s in front of them is the Temple: power
and privilege and influence and status and strength. As soon as Jesus leaves there, walking down
from the heights of the Temple precinct, we’re told that one of his disciples
said to him, “Look, Teacher, what large stones and what large buildings!” (Mark
13:1). That’s what they notice!
Large stones. Large buildings.
The
disciple is referring to size of the Temple itself—and it was enormous, one of
the wonders of the ancient world. Herod the Great (d. 4 BC), as king of the
Jews, was also an ambitious architect and city-planner, who expanded the
footprint of the Temple Mount during his reign.
The Temple Mount is about the size of six football fields. He carted in enormous foundation stones—Herod didn’t do it, he had slaves do that for him.
These stones, known as Ashlars, support the Temple Mount, and they’re
enormous. These “large stones,” as the
disciple said, the largest of which measured 39 feet, 4 inches long by 7 feet,
10 inches wide, 43 inches high, weighing as much as 80 tons. That’s what the disciple notices. The disciple was obviously impressed by their
splendor and all that they represent.
And what does Jesus say? “Do you
see these buildings?” Jesus asks, “Not one stone will be left here upon
another; all will be thrown down” (Mark 13:2).
It will all come tumbling down.
In approximately four days time, the Temple authorities would have a
role in Jesus’ death. In about
thirty-seven years after Jesus, the Romans would tear the Temple apart, stone
by stone, in the siege of Jerusalem in 70 AD.
Jesus has harsh words for the
Temple. But the Church must not think
we’re exempt from similar judgment. Jesus
condemns and judges the Church when it’s supported by secular structures or too
heavily under the sway of secular and political ideologies that refuse to help the
orphan and the widow and the foreigner and the poor, when the Church refuses to
take some risks in caring for the most vulnerable in our society. A Church made up of such “scribes” is unfit
for discipleship. This is critical for
us. Our life, the vitality of the
Church, the moral integrity of the Church is at stake here. Is the Church—often
unknowingly, unintentionally—contributing to the oppression of God’s children
by being the Church, worrying about
the survival of the institution, managing the organization, concerned too much
about status and numbers and influence and privilege in society, too worried
about making or keeping people happy, or losing members, that it stifles the
work of the Spirit in its midst?
Did you notice that Jesus never praises
the poor widow? It might sound like that
to our ears. He doesn’t celebrate her
offering. Yes, she gave her all,
everything she had, but to an institution that refused to adequately care for
her! Perhaps she was even impoverished
by the Temple. Jesus never commends her
action. He simply notices and then
invites his disciples—you and me—to do the same, to see things that our affluence
and class and power and privilege and class and race and gender prevent us from
seeing. Have you ever noticed that so much
of Jesus’ ministry was getting people to open their eyes so that their hearts
would break open with compassion, or getting us to open our hearts so that our
eyes can see—really see—the suffering of God’s people, see the systemic injustice
right before our eyes, help us see the invisible ones, people easy to miss or
ignore, easy to see right through as if they don’t even exist?
As
Jesus knew, once you see it’s impossible to not see, to un-see, it’s impossible
to be blind again. That’s what grace does! “I once was blind but now I see.”
Right? Grace opens our eyes. Or, are we so impressed by “large stones” and
miss the injustice at the steps of the Temple, of the Church?
Years ago, on my first trip to the
Democratic Republic of Congo, I preached at the Nganza Centrale Presbyterian
Church in Kananga. Prior to my visit,
Catonsville Presbyterian Church bought sewing machines for the women of the
Nganza Central Church as a way to train women in a useful skill that could
bring in additional income for their families.
They made shirts and dresses, which we sold here in Catonsville. We then used that money to purchase a
motorcycle for Pastor Manyai to get around to his large parish, because the
roads were in terrible shape. I was
there to present the motorcycle to the pastor and congregation.
It
was a joyous occasion. The people, very
poor, were so full of joy and love and spirit.
When it came time for the offering they danced their gifts down the
center aisle as the choir sang and the rich rhythm of the drums thrummed through
the church. Pastor Manyai stood behind
the offering box as each worshipper gave what they could. Most dropped a few coins into the box, some
offered food from their gardens or farms, some gave eggs; everyone gave out of
their abundance, truly grateful for what they had. I was sitting behind the pulpit, off to the
side, watching all of this before my eyes wondering if we could try this in
Catonsville. How about dancing your
offering down the aisle? I’m not sure
what we would do if everyone gave eggs or tomatoes or extra basil from your
gardens. Actually, we prefer checks,
cash, and a generous pledge card.
As I watched people come forward there was one woman carrying a baby who started
to place her offering into the box, when Pastor Manyai very slowly, without
drawing attention to what he was doing, gently placed her gift back into her
hands. They looked at each other with an
eye of mutual understanding and she returned to her bench. That was a holy moment. Wow.
I should have averted my eyes from such holiness. But I’m grateful that I didn’t miss that
moment of grace, grateful for what I was allowed to see.
Sometimes the system is
corrupt. Sometimes institutions do not
serve the needs of God’s people.
Sometimes the political and economic oppression is so dehumanizing (as
it is in the DRC). Most of us cannot
even begin to understand what that’s like.
No, Jesus wasn’t praising that woman
at the treasury. He was observing
her. And he invites us to see, to notice
her too; to see that generous act, to notice her sacrifice, to notice her
commitment, to notice her devotion.
Perhaps she could give without reserve because she knew that she was at
the end of her life, she didn’t need those coins any more. But, what if she was a young widow, then the
act is even more preposterous and confusing and wrong (especially if she was
forced to give to the Temple). We don’t
know.
Either way, it’s a costly offering,
not unlike the costly offering Jesus was about to make, giving his life without
reserve to the larger purpose of God’s justice and grace. Perhaps that’s what is at work here. Maybe Jesus sees something of himself in
her. Maybe she mirrors back something
true about himself. Hers is a costly
offering to something, someone larger than herself. Jesus, too, offers himself without reserve to
God’s call in his life, to God’s vision of kingdom-justice.
And
at a deep level all of this talk about giving is not rational. Being this generous often exceeds rationality. When you’re really generous, when you give to
your kids or your spouse or a friend, it’s often not rational. Right?
You just do it because you want to out of the fullness of your heart;
because it gives you joy, because you love your child, because you love your
partner, because you love a friend. It’s
not always rational; it might appear a little silly or foolish. It might even surprise the person you’re
being generous to. You might surprise
yourself, surprised that you could be that generous. You just do it because you see them and you
open your heart and then you give.
At the deepest level of our souls, I
believe, this is how we all want to live—without
reserve. Toward God. Toward neighbor. Toward stranger. Toward friend. I also believe there’s something within us
that fights and rages and resists against this within us, that wants to hold
back, often in fear, when we withhold our hearts, withhold resources, withhold
compliments and praise, withhold goodness. But deeper than our reluctance, our selfishness
is a desire to be generous with our emotions, generous with our hearts,
generous with our time, generous with our resources and gifts, generous with
our souls.
Consider CPC’s new Envision
Fund. The use of the Robert Riley
bequest in the formation of the Envision Fund reflects this spirit of
giving. This morning in worship we will
announce the first grant awards, totaling more than $38,000. Do you realize just how generous you
are? This is an extremely generous use
of the gift.
Or, consider the way this church
gives generously, through tithes and gifts and offerings and annual pledge
commitments, the way you support this ministry and mission, witnessed in our
mission work on display today at the Mission Fair—mission that starts as we
walk down our steps and step out into the world.
We
give not because we have to, but because we want to, discovering that our lives
become richer, fuller, more expansive when we give. Giving this way expands the reach and depth
of this ministry. In some ways, it’s the
only way for us to truly bless and care for the world. That’s our calling. That’s our mission.
[1] I’m immensely grateful
for Debie Thomas’ commentary essay “The Widow Prophet” at Journey With Jesus, from which I’ve borrowed several ideas and
insights, insights that inspired my own reading of Mark 12:38-44.
[2] Ched Myers, Binding the Strong Man: A Political Readingof Mark’s Story of Jesus (Orbis Books, 2008), 318-322.
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