Generosity & Justice
- Nov 8, 2015
- 6 min read
Mark 12: 38-44
Our Gospel story today,
this story of the poor widow with her two copper coins
is probably a familiar one.
You might’ve heard it called the story of the “widow’s mite.”
A mite, I learned this week, was a coin that was used in England
around the time of King James.
It’s the word that the King James Bible uses to describe
the coins used by the widow in the story.
The story takes place in the Temple in Jerusalem.
In it, you’ll recall, the crowds
are putting money into the Temple treasury.
Not unlike our offering plates here at church,
the money that went into the Temple treasury helped pay
for the day-to-day costs of running the Temple.
Jesus is in Temple with his disciples.
He’s been teaching.
And when he looks around,
he notices many rich people putting large sums of money in the treasury.
But he’s not interested in them so much as this poor widow.
His attention is on her.
Throughout the Gospels,
Jesus’s attention is often drawn toward unlikely people,
people who are easily missed, people like the widow.
And he invites us to pay attention to these people too.
In any case
he notices that although this widow has just a few copper coins—
not worth very much at all—
she puts them all in the treasury.
“Truly I tell you,” he says, “this poor widow has put in
more than all of those who are contributing to the treasury.
For all of them have contributed out of their abundance;
but she out of her poverty has put in everything she had,
all she had to live on.”
Now I have to say,
I feel some real tension in my gut when I hear this story.
On the one hand, this widow is sometimes put on a pedestal as an example of generosity.
She is often held up as a model of generosity.
What little she has, she gives all of it.
And indeed, her generosity embodies the kingdom of God.
It gives us a glimpse of what God’s kingdom is like.
What is it Jesus is always saying about the kingdom?
That what seems small and insignificant in our eyes
is big and full of potential in God’s eyes.
The tiny mustard seed that produces the big tree.
The little bit of yeast that leavens the whole loaf of bread.
The hidden treasure in a field.
All of these tell us something about the kingdom of God, Jesus says.
And it seems the widow does too.
Although she seems insignificant when compared to the rich people in the Temple,
she is of the greatest significance to God.
Although what she offers isn’t valuable according to human standards,
it is of infinite worth in the kingdom of God.
On the other hand, though, this story isn’t fair.
It’s not fair that the widow gives so much—
it’s not fair that she gives everything when others in the story don’t.
I mean sure, the rich people in the story do give generously.
But doing so doesn’t impact them like it does the widow.
And the end of the day, they’ll go home and still have plenty to live on.
But not so with the widow.
By contrast, she doesn’t have any extra cushioning.
She no longer has a husband to provide for her.
It’s highly doubtful that she has a steady stream of income.
She is vulnerable.
And her decision to give everything she has could well leave her destitute.
It seems like she is the last person who should
be giving her meager wealth away to the Temple.
Yet this is what she does.
So the widow both embodies the generosity and potential of the kingdom of God.
And at the same time, she is caught up in a system that is unjust,
that doesn’t reflect the kingdom of God.
I feel tension here in my gut.
I remember another time I felt this same kind of tension.
It was in a church I served.
And in this church there was a family who gave incredibly generously to church.
This family consisted of a mom and dad, and their daughter and granddaughter.
You might say, they gave everything they had: their time, their talents, and their treasure.
For the income they brought in,
they gave more than anyone else in the church.
Certainly more than me.
And they didn’t have a lot of extra money to give.
They didn’t have much in the way of cushioning.
They were a working class family, sometimes bordering on poor.
The father worked in construction, and was seasonally employed.
The mother lived with a disability.
They had had a long litany of serious health issues.
In fact, their daughter’s husband had died unexpectedly during Holy Week one year.
Rarely during my time at this church were they what you’d call “financially stable.”
But they pledged generously to support their church.
Including to support my salary, my health insurance and my pension
when they didn’t always have these things themselves.
They gave almost recklessly to church.
Not out of any sense of “obligation,”
but because their lives had been transformed by church:
transformed by the love of God they’d received at the hands of this church community.
I’ll never forget,
after burying their son-in-law on Good Friday that year,
they showed up the next day at the Easter Vigil to celebration the Resurrection
with bottles of champagne to share with the church.
They gave everything.
But other people at church didn’t give so generously.
There was another family.
They were millionaires.
They lived in an enormous mansion with a six-car garage.
They drove expensive cars
and enjoyed a level of privilege that this other family had never known
and probably never will.
And they did give some of their wealth to church.
But not all of it.
And not nearly so much as the other family.
And I remember feeling tension in my gut about all this.
I mean, here was this one family, giving all of what little they had.
Giving more than me!
And here was this other family not giving very much of the great wealth they had.
On the one hand,
I understood that the generosity of the first family was a sign of the kingdom of God.
And that what is small and insignificant to us is big and full of potential to God.
I got that.
On the other hand, though, all of this just seemed plain unfair.
Unjust.
I mean, it’s bad enough that the working class and poor
bear the brunt of tax cuts that benefit the wealthy in our country,
and that they pay a higher percentage of their income in taxes,
but shouldn’t it be different in church?
There is tension here.
Unresolved tension.
The interesting thing in the story about the poor widow
is that although we sometimes hold her up as a model of sacrifice and generosity,
Jesus never does.
He also never demonizes the rich people in the story.
He simply says to his disciples,
I’m noticing something that’s going on around here.
I’m noticing that those rich people are giving generously,
and that poor widow over there is giving everything she has.
He doesn’t give his disciples a pat answer
or tell them what to think.
He simply puts it out there.
Acknowledges that there is tension here.
Unresolved tension.
Much as I would like it, there’s not a nice, tidy ending to this story.
Like so many stories in the Gospel,
perhaps we’re not meant to leave feeling all warm and fuzzy inside,
or having a crystal clear “take-away” point.
Perhaps instead we’re meant to struggle with these things.
To ask some hard questions.
What is justice?
Why doesn’t the church reflect the values of the kingdom of God?
I guess, since we’re in the midst of stewardship season here at church,
I could end my sermon today by pointing my finger,
and saying,
you people with more money need to give more money to church!
But I don’t think that would go over so well.
And besides, it would be hypocritical.
I would need to point at least one finger at myself!
Because the truth is,
I’m own my own journey toward greater generosity.
A journey that I hope will open my own heart and life further to God.
A journey that I hope will build the kingdom of God,
and build a church that better reflects the generosity and justice of this kingdom.
I’m not there yet.
And maybe you’re not there yet either.
So here’s a plan:
let’s journey on this way together.
Amen.
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