This sermon was preached on November 8, 2015 at Grace Episcopal Church in Medford, MA. The texts for this sermon were: Ruth 3:1-5; 4:13-17, Psalm 127, Hebrews 9:24-28, and Mark 12:38-44.
When I was a freshman in college and trying to figure out how to fit in, I started volunteering for the local Habitat for Humanity chapter. I liked that the volunteer builds were very much “come when you can.” Whenever I had a Saturday morning free that I wanted to spend doing something productive I’d show up and the leader would drive us over to the site.
I’d really only been on a few builds when the graduating leader in charge of the club approached me about taking it over. Now I need to say here that this wasn’t because I was super qualified or even a dedicated member. It turns out that I happened to be the student who had shown up to the most builds that fall. Of course as a freshman I was flattered enough to yes, without quite realizing what it would mean.
What it meant, I soon learned, was that as the one coordinating the rides and the builds and the budget the next fall, Habitat for Humanity was no longer “come when you can." It was "Come!" Come when it is hard. Come when it is rainy and yucky and you lost your gloves. Come when you're hungover and sleep-deprived, and when you have four different papers to write by midnight. Suddenly it was no longer about turning spare time into a productive and meaningful experience, but about reshaping the whole rhythm of my life around my commitment. I had to transition from giving out of convenience and abundance to giving from a sometimes squeezing, choking lack.
Of course, I'm standing in a roomful of generous people who know all about committing to community service and reshaping their lives around that act. You haven't just heard this story before you've lived it! But here's why I'm telling it to you today. I think the next part of the story that I'm used to telling is all about how much I received from that giving. All the important lessons I learned about perseverance and generosity from the people I worked with at Habitat, the leadership skills I gained, all the things I helped to accomplish through my donation. How it was all worth it in the end. And it was. But in this passage from Mark, Jesus turns that perspective on its head.
The second half of today's Gospel is the familiar story of the poor widow and her pennies, the story that our Stewardship Committee chose to highlight this year in our Stewardship Prayer. Jesus sits watching Jewish worshippers place monetary offerings in the temple treasury. While many wealthy donors put in huge amounts of money, Jesus praises a poor widow who gives just two small copper coins. Calling his disciples over, Jesus declares that this widow has put in more than all the wealthy donors combined, because she gave not out of abundance, but out of her poverty.
I find that this story’s meaning changes significantly when we place in the context of the first half of this Gospel lesson. Our selection from Mark starts with Jesus lamenting what exactly the widow is receiving from her generous donation to the treasury. It’s really not worth it. Not at all. On the backs of offerings from people like the poor widow, pompous temple employees prance about, taking all the best for themselves and saying long prayers for show. Jesus even uses the word “devour” to describe the relationship between the clerical class and the most financially vulnerable people in Jewish society. This part of the Gospel today is vital because it helps us see that the poor widow’s act is not holy because she’s sacrificing her livelihood to support her church. It’s not about who she is supporting or what results from her giving. It’s about the power of her act itself.
This Gospel passage challenges us to take a step beyond appreciating all the tangible and intangible things we receive from giving, and even encourages us to move beyond giving as an act of appreciation for what we’ve received from others’ gifts. Because, frankly, we see that what the widow receives from giving is pretty corrupt and downright awful. What we are asked to do is consider how the act of giving itself, this posture of openness, commitment, and generosity, may be what is reshaping us the most. We are asked to recognize how much more powerful that transformation is when we give from our lack rather than from our excess.
When the wealthy donors give from their abundance to the temple, they aren’t forced to change anything about their lives. They don’t have to adjust or reconsider their household budget. They aren’t really affected at all by act of placing their money into the treasury. The poor widow’s contribution, of course, has deep consequences in her daily life. She is entirely reshaped by her donation, even if the outward consequences of the meager sum do nothing to change society or her position in it.
When I gave from my excess of time and energy, those spare Saturdays I happened to have lying around, I didn’t have to rethink the way I was organizing my time. I could safely avoid reevaluating my life priorities. I could run away from the kind of personal transformation Jesus calls us to every day.
I could, in other words, avoid stewardship all together.
That’s what I think I hadn’t really been understanding until I decided to view stewardship from a biblically grounded perspective. Stewardship doesn’t ask us to “give until it hurts.” Until we are stressed out and stretched thin and shackled in poverty like the widow. And it’s not about digging a little deeper when the collection plate comes around and throwing in a bit more of what we have on hand. Stewardship, and pledging, is about committing to give in a way that keeps us open to being transformed. It asks us to give until we are changed by our giving.
Jesus’s frankness about the corruption of the temple system emphasizes that it’s not what’s being done with her money that makes the poor widow’s contribution so powerful. It’s her willingness to reshape her entire life around the act of giving, that’s so radical. Her embrace of the vulnerability and dependence and humility that results from her generosity, that’s so transformative. That posture, that willingness, is what forms the basis of true community. And it has the power to change us, and change the world.
When I was a freshman in college and trying to figure out how to fit in, I started volunteering for the local Habitat for Humanity chapter. I liked that the volunteer builds were very much “come when you can.” Whenever I had a Saturday morning free that I wanted to spend doing something productive I’d show up and the leader would drive us over to the site.
I’d really only been on a few builds when the graduating leader in charge of the club approached me about taking it over. Now I need to say here that this wasn’t because I was super qualified or even a dedicated member. It turns out that I happened to be the student who had shown up to the most builds that fall. Of course as a freshman I was flattered enough to yes, without quite realizing what it would mean.
What it meant, I soon learned, was that as the one coordinating the rides and the builds and the budget the next fall, Habitat for Humanity was no longer “come when you can." It was "Come!" Come when it is hard. Come when it is rainy and yucky and you lost your gloves. Come when you're hungover and sleep-deprived, and when you have four different papers to write by midnight. Suddenly it was no longer about turning spare time into a productive and meaningful experience, but about reshaping the whole rhythm of my life around my commitment. I had to transition from giving out of convenience and abundance to giving from a sometimes squeezing, choking lack.
Of course, I'm standing in a roomful of generous people who know all about committing to community service and reshaping their lives around that act. You haven't just heard this story before you've lived it! But here's why I'm telling it to you today. I think the next part of the story that I'm used to telling is all about how much I received from that giving. All the important lessons I learned about perseverance and generosity from the people I worked with at Habitat, the leadership skills I gained, all the things I helped to accomplish through my donation. How it was all worth it in the end. And it was. But in this passage from Mark, Jesus turns that perspective on its head.
The second half of today's Gospel is the familiar story of the poor widow and her pennies, the story that our Stewardship Committee chose to highlight this year in our Stewardship Prayer. Jesus sits watching Jewish worshippers place monetary offerings in the temple treasury. While many wealthy donors put in huge amounts of money, Jesus praises a poor widow who gives just two small copper coins. Calling his disciples over, Jesus declares that this widow has put in more than all the wealthy donors combined, because she gave not out of abundance, but out of her poverty.
I find that this story’s meaning changes significantly when we place in the context of the first half of this Gospel lesson. Our selection from Mark starts with Jesus lamenting what exactly the widow is receiving from her generous donation to the treasury. It’s really not worth it. Not at all. On the backs of offerings from people like the poor widow, pompous temple employees prance about, taking all the best for themselves and saying long prayers for show. Jesus even uses the word “devour” to describe the relationship between the clerical class and the most financially vulnerable people in Jewish society. This part of the Gospel today is vital because it helps us see that the poor widow’s act is not holy because she’s sacrificing her livelihood to support her church. It’s not about who she is supporting or what results from her giving. It’s about the power of her act itself.
This Gospel passage challenges us to take a step beyond appreciating all the tangible and intangible things we receive from giving, and even encourages us to move beyond giving as an act of appreciation for what we’ve received from others’ gifts. Because, frankly, we see that what the widow receives from giving is pretty corrupt and downright awful. What we are asked to do is consider how the act of giving itself, this posture of openness, commitment, and generosity, may be what is reshaping us the most. We are asked to recognize how much more powerful that transformation is when we give from our lack rather than from our excess.
When the wealthy donors give from their abundance to the temple, they aren’t forced to change anything about their lives. They don’t have to adjust or reconsider their household budget. They aren’t really affected at all by act of placing their money into the treasury. The poor widow’s contribution, of course, has deep consequences in her daily life. She is entirely reshaped by her donation, even if the outward consequences of the meager sum do nothing to change society or her position in it.
When I gave from my excess of time and energy, those spare Saturdays I happened to have lying around, I didn’t have to rethink the way I was organizing my time. I could safely avoid reevaluating my life priorities. I could run away from the kind of personal transformation Jesus calls us to every day.
I could, in other words, avoid stewardship all together.
That’s what I think I hadn’t really been understanding until I decided to view stewardship from a biblically grounded perspective. Stewardship doesn’t ask us to “give until it hurts.” Until we are stressed out and stretched thin and shackled in poverty like the widow. And it’s not about digging a little deeper when the collection plate comes around and throwing in a bit more of what we have on hand. Stewardship, and pledging, is about committing to give in a way that keeps us open to being transformed. It asks us to give until we are changed by our giving.
Jesus’s frankness about the corruption of the temple system emphasizes that it’s not what’s being done with her money that makes the poor widow’s contribution so powerful. It’s her willingness to reshape her entire life around the act of giving, that’s so radical. Her embrace of the vulnerability and dependence and humility that results from her generosity, that’s so transformative. That posture, that willingness, is what forms the basis of true community. And it has the power to change us, and change the world.
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