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When
I read today’s gospel earlier this week, I was pleasantly surprised
to discover that, on at least one occasion, Jesus was doing
something I have done on many occasions. What is that?
“People
watching.”
I
don’t know about you, but I oftentimes will find myself observing
people. I don’t plan on engaging in this behavior; it just sort of
happens. It could be at King of Prussia Mall, Chick-Fil-A, or
Giants. (I have been told that the best place to people watch is at
the shore, so I assume that people watching is a great past-time
there.) Depending upon how people present themselves as they
pass by, as they engage in conversation with others or holler at
their kids, or as they stand in line to pay for their merchandize or
groceries, I begin to wonder about their lives, what they might do
for a living, where they might live, (especially surveying what’s
in their shopping cart
at
the grocery store) the things they will be eating, and the
challenges and difficulties they may be experiencing in the lives.
Sometimes, I am even able to look into their eyes. I find myself
wondering whether they are happy or sad, fulfilled or anxious, or
serene or agitated. Is what I see in their eyes accurately
portraying the state of their souls?
I
must also confess that I have wondered whether it is sinful to
engage in people watching, because what I am wondering about may
have absolutely no factual basis in reality whatsoever. After all,
I know absolutely nothing all of about the people I am observing,
wondering about, and about whom I sometimes make judgments.
That’s why I took great comfort in reading today’s gospel because it
answers that very question! There Jesus is, sitting down opposite
the Temple treasury alongside the leaders of the Temple, the
Sadducees, whom Jesus had just scorned for their blatant hypocrisy.
Using the criterion set by the Sadducees, wouldn’t
many
of us be qualified to be seated right there next to Jesus?
Observing the people entering the Temple and making their
contributions to the treasury, it was pretty easy for Jesus and the
Sadducees to know the value of each donation because the coins were
placed in a long, horn-shaped object and, as they rolled down and
into the container holding the collection, the coins would rattle,
clink, and clunk.
Through the door
comes
this widow who has two small coins worth only a couple of cents.
She drops what historically has been called her “mite” into the
long, horn-shaped object and the two coins roll down and into the
container, making barely any noise whatsoever. Surely, the
Sadducees rolled their eyes upward toward heaven, indicating their
disdain for the pittance the widow had contributed and hoping for
better results when the next person would walk through the doorway
and into the Temple precincts!
It’s one thing to people watch in public places—like the mall, fast
food joint, or food store—and to make conjectures or judgments about
them. But, what Jesus and the Sadducees were observing would be
akin to us observing each member of the congregation place his or
her contribution into the collection basket each Sunday or, as was
the case when I was a kid, to study carefully the list of families
and the amount each had contributed to the parish. Using my father
as the standard of judgment, how carefully the parishioners studied
that annual volume of the parish bulletin and what they had to say
about some people!
Now, some of the people Jesus observed had placed large sums of
money into the Temple treasury. And, yes, so did some parishioners
identified on the annual list. Awfully generous of them, no? There
also was this poor widow who had donated two small coins worth only
a pittance. And, yes, some not-so-poor parishioners contributed
very little to the parish, at least according to the annual list.
Not terribly generous on their part, no?
Lest you think I am going to talk today about contributing to the
support of the church, don’t worry, I’m not. If I were going to do
so, I’d have started with this anecdote:
A man
came to the rectory asking whether he could speak to the “Head Hog
at the Trough.”
The
secretary asked, “Who?”
Gathering
her
wits, the secretary said, “Sir, if you mean our pastor, then you
will have to treat him with a little more respect than that. You
should ask for
‘Father’
or, at a minimum, the
‘Pastor.’
But you certainly should not refer to him as the
‘Head
Hog at the Trough.’
“Okay, I understand. Pardon me,” the man said. “I would like to
see the Pastor. I have $1 million dollars I was thinking about
donating to the parish.”
“Hold
on for just a moment,” the secretary said. “I think the big fat pig
just walked in the back door.”
While I’m not afraid to talk with you about money, stewardship, or
even to challenge you “to put more of your skin into the game,” I do
get more than a little squeamish when I hear scripture used to
validate the Church’s or a parish’s need for more money. Why
contort scripture to serve human purposes when God had scripture
written to serve His divine purposes?
So, what I want to reflect with you about today is the
“mite-y”
widow. Upon observing her, Jesus commented:
Amen,
I say to you, this poor widow put in more than all the other
contributors to the treasury. For they have all contributed from
their surplus wealth, but she, from her poverty, has contributed all
she had, her whole livelihood. (Mark 12:43-44)
In
contrast to the parables Jesus used to teach his disciples, this is
not a story Jesus is telling to communicate a divine truth about
human existence. No, Jesus is making a comment about a particular
person to his disciples, a poor widow. And, what I believe is
important about Jesus’ comment is that it demonstrates how the poor
widow and her behavior revealed to Jesus something about his mission
as well as his disciples’
mission and our mission.
First: what about the widow’s social status in Jesus’
culture?
Having lost her husband upon whom she was completely dependent, the
widow had to dress in a special way, she could not inherit anything
from her husband (that went to the first-born son, if there was
one), and she was absolutely dependent upon the generosity of other
male relatives or anyone in the community who was willing to provide
for the widow’s
needs. If she had no children, the widow was required to return to
her father’s house. And, although God’s law declared “You shall not
abuse any widow or orphan” and Moses himself declared “Cursed be
anyone who deprives the widow of justice,” if no one would defend
the widow and her rights, she was an easy target of any predator and
lived at the mercy of judges, many of whom were corrupt.
So, here’s this poor widow giving the last of her money to her
church. Imagine how any of us would feel if our own mother did
this. Wouldn’t we do everything possible to talk her out of it? Of
course we would, because we possess an overriding concern for her
needs. Out of love for our mother, none of us would want her to
jeopardize her health and well-being for some misguided act of
religious piety, however well-intentioned it may be. So it’s
difficult to imagine that Jesus—who throughout his ministry always
was attentive to the needs of the poor—could possibly have been
enthusiastic over this widow’s donation that had the potential to
put her in jeopardy. Simple concern for her needs casts doubt over
the assumption that Jesus would approve of such a gesture for that
reason.
So, what did Jesus observe in this widow that brought him to praise
her so effusively?
Tossing her only signs of independence into the collection basket—“her
entire life,” Jesus said—the
widow demonstrated her complete dependence upon the generosity of
God and neighbor. More importantly, however, this action taught
Jesus something about himself. Jesus observed and saw in this
widow’s
“mite-y” contribution to the Temple treasury
his
own journey, starting in Nazareth—a home, and for the widow, a
marriage—and moving ultimately toward Golgotha—a crucifixion, and
for the widow, a crucifixion of a different sort...giving up what
meant life for her. The contrast is unmistakable: the widow is
giving abundantly out of what looks, from the outside, to be very
meager. However, the widow’s gift isn’t actually as meager as it
looks because, as Jesus commented, it is “her whole livelihood.”
The widow’s contribution to the Temple treasury captured Jesus’
attention. He saw in her act something identifying the
contribution he would have to make with his whole livelihood. The
widow’s willingness to give all she possessed to God struck Jesus
with awe, as God revealed through the widow what God had in mind for
Jesus. It was an awesome moment of self-realization!
Speaking for myself, notice the contrast. If I were to observe the
widow at the mall, the food store, or a fast food joint, I would
likely not find much noteworthy about her, just like the Sadducees.
Two small copper coins worth just a few cents? Not much compared
to if I were to observe someone pull out a wad of $100 dollar bills,
that’s for sure!
Yet, in this tiny contribution to the Temple treasury, Jesus saw
something that moved him with awe, a force possessing revolutionary
power. Through the poor widow’s
generosity,
God
revealed to Jesus what truly matters and, in terms of his mission,
what it would be required of Jesus. The widow contributed what
seemed, in human terms, to be pretty close to nothing. Yet, her
gift is the most powerful and revolutionary of all those contributed
that day to the Temple treasury because it was “her whole
livelihood.” It’s a form of generosity that is equal to giving
one’s life for God’s kingdom, as Jesus would do on Golgotha.
That is one reason why I believe this story is not particularly
about stewardship or giving ten percent of your gross income to the
support of the Church. No, more importantly, this story teaches us
how this woman’s
generosity gave Jesus insight into his mission, namely, how Jesus
would have to give up everything for the sake of God’s kingdom. As
Jesus observed the widow, he saw someone who gave her entire
life—all she had to live on—to further God’s kingdom. As Jesus
observed her, God was revealing through the widow’s selfless
generosity what God would require of His only begotten Son.
When Jesus sat down that day with the Sadducees across from the
Temple treasury and stated people watching, most people saw a widow
making why they would judge as nothing more than a paltry offering.
What God revealed through this widow to Jesus, however, consisted of
two lessons about himself. The first lesson taught Jesus that a
tiny gift can be
“mite-y,”
possessing revolutionary power. Yes, one human life can change
the world. The second lesson taught Jesus that giving all he
had in the service of the revolutionary purpose God had in mind for
His only begotten Son was worth more than all of the money in the
world.
For us, the story of the widow can help us to see that discipleship
consists of giving ourselves for the sake of God’s kingdom. When we
observe the poor widow as Jesus did and allow ourselves to be
awestruck by her
“mite-y ”
contribution, we will see the revolutionary purpose God has in mind
for each of us.
Sitting in the pew across from the sanctuary and observing what’s
going on in the sanctuary each Sunday, I think there is one
additional thing we need to recognize. In today’s gospel, Jesus
expressed his gratitude for the widow’s gesture and what it revealed
to Jesus about his life and mission. In the same way, when we
observe Jesus in Word and Sacrament, we should see something of
ourselves, what that means about giving ourselves to further God’s
kingdom, and to express our gratitude for what Jesus reveals to us
in Word and Sacrament.
It’s so very easy to get caught up merely observing others, and
especially all that they possess. As Jesus’ disciples, more
important is that we observe those who are giving everything they
have to further God’s kingdom and what God is revealing to us
through them about ourselves and our mission. Worldly riches
may earn us admiration on the part many people, but sharing all of
what God has entrusted to us is the true measure of discipleship.
Like the widow, we must also give everything we have so that God
will reveal to others through our actions what God is calling them
to do with their lives.
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HOMILY
