Sermon: The Widow's Offering

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The Widow's Offering

By Caroline Dean

November 7, 2010

[ Audio (mp3, 6.1Mb) ]

Jesus taught, he said, ‘Beware of the scribes, who like to walk around in long robes, and to be greeted with respect in the market-places, and they like 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 the greater condemnation.'

Then, he sat down opposite the treasury, and watched the crowd putting money into the treasury. Many rich people put in large sums. And a poor widow came along and put in two small copper coins, or two “mites,” which are worth a penny. Then he called his disciples and said to them, ‘Truly I tell you, this poor widow has put in more than all 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.'

Let us pray: Gracious God, guide us in your truth, open our hearts, and ears, and imaginations, to be a people of radical generosity. May these words guide us on our journey and draw us to you. By the power of your spirit and in the name of your son we pray, Amen.

Let's face it--talking about money is awkward. And so during stewardship season here at Christ Church is it tempting to dance around the issue. But I've been wondering if avoiding “our issues” with money, actually gives money more power over us. Think about it, what if we lived in a society where we introduced ourselves by saying our names, our what we do for a living AND how much we make? Hi, “I'm Caroline Dean, and I'm a pastor at Christ Church and I make X amount of money.” See I'm too shy to share with you how much I make. It seems inappropriate. For some reason, it is a cultural faux pas to broadcast how much money you make, or how much money you have, or how much money you spend on such and such. But, I wonder, is being more transparent about our bank accounts a way to lessen money's power over us or would it only make things worse? We don't want people to think we're showing off. We don't want people to think we're not making enough. If we feel particularly financially insecure, then broadcasting our finances would only heighten this insecurity. And let's be honest, a lot of people these days are feeling financially vulnerable. What is it about our society that money, or the lack there of, has so much control over us? What is it about “money-talk” that makes us so vulnerable?

In our scripture today, about a scribe who lives in luxury, and a woman's meager offering, the widow is the obvious portrait of vulnerability. In this time period, widows had no inheritance rights; instead they relied on the charity others. The Old Testament scriptures constantly exhort the people of Israel to take care of the orphans, the strangers and the widows in their midst. The social and economic vulnerability of the widow in this passage is probably closest to the situation of a beggar, or a homeless person, in our society today. She lived “day-to-day” and she had to survive off of the generosity of others.

However, perhaps this widow is not the only vulnerable character in the story. Jesus also introduces us to a certain kind of scribe. Scribes had the dual role of religious leader and lawyer. They read and wrote contracts based on their intimate knowledge of Jewish law. Scribes were often appointed as trustees over the estates of widows. And they would abuse this power, in order to gain a share in the estate, “devouring” the houses of widows as our scriptures describe. The type of scribe that Jesus warns about, loves to dress up in flowing robes and walk around the marketplace. He is greeted by the most important people and invited to the most prestigious events. At these events he is seated as the guest of honor and he says long prayers to bless the meal. On the surface our scribe friend is “living the life.” He is financially secure. He knows the right people. He parties at the best banquets. But Jesus suggests that this is all a “show,” its an “act.” Our scribe is hiding something behind his robes. He enjoys financial security at the expense of the hope and future of his community's most fragile ones, the widows. He says lengthy prayers only to impress and gain respect. He uses those around him to secure his power and social status. And so underneath this impressive exterior, we find a man who is covering something up. Perhaps he is just as vulnerable as the widow. His greatest nightmare is losing his status and becoming socially cast-out and financially fragile. He looks at women like the widow and he oppresses them because subconsciously they represent his greatest fear. And so we meet a vulnerable widow, who is at the bottom of society, and we also meet a vulnerable scribe who covers up his insecurity and fear with power and fame.

The interesting thing is that the vulnerability of both of these two characters is intimately tied to their financial situation. Because of the social systems of her day, the widow constantly struggles to find some sort of financial stability. And because of these same social structures, the scribe has an abundant financial cushion. And yet his vulnerability lies in the fear of losing his position and the perks that go along with it. And so I wonder what these two characters can teach us about our own vulnerability concerning money and financial stability in these unstable times.

Firstly, one of the most ironic pieces of this story is that the widow is the one who is supposed to receive charity not give it out! A widow usually survives off of the abundance of a person like the scribe. But instead, we encounter a scribe who is stingy and oppressive. And we find a widow who is offering her money to the institution that supports the scribe. So, the widow gives and the scribe receives, what an ironic twist! Granted the widow only gives a tiny sum of money (only about 1/64 of a day's labor). However, Jesus says that she has offered more than any other person in the temple that day because she has given out of her poverty. I like to imagine that the widow knows of others who are even worse off than she is. And instead of her financial vulnerability creating resentment and callousness towards others, the widow's fragile state helps her empathize with others and respond in radical generosity.

How can our money be a conduit for generosity and not a catalyst for stinginess? How can money lead us into relationship instead of creating boundaries between those who “have” and those who “have not?” The scribe's money helps solidify the social categories between the ones who sit in the seats of honor and the ones who are not even invited to the banquet. Does your money draw you to others, to deep involvement in community, or does it push others away? Does your money draw you to the most vulnerable in our society? Do we spend money out of fear and social performance, like the scribe, or like the widow, do we spend money out of compassion and generosity?

Secondly, the widow has a prophetic voice in this passage. No one expects her to give money to the temple. In fact, she is giving to the very establishment that oppresses her! Her money supports the scribe and endorses his activity, “devouring” the houses of widows. What is this woman thinking? She must be crazy, right? Does she give money out of obligation or shame? Does she give out of some sort of naïve devotion?

Candace Chewell-Hodge, wrote an article entitled “With All our Mite” in an online magazine for LGBT Christians. She makes this same observation, wondering why this widow would ever contribute to the very institution that marginalizes her. She compares the commitment of the widow to the temple and to the commitment of the LGBT community to churches that oppress them. She writes, “Even if others think we're crazy, the Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, and Transgender community, and its allies, must continue to give all its ‘mite' to the church in the hope that one day we can reform it - from the inside out.” She goes on, “I seek to emulate (the widow's) faithfulness to an institution that marginalizes her. I believe she understood that she is a powerful witness against…the scribes of her day. We, as LGBT people, can follow her example and continue to be powerful witnesses as we seek to make the church more welcoming and inclusive of all outcasts, not just those in our community.” (PAUSE)

And so while the scribe secures his financial future by “devouring” the lives of widows, this widow gives her tiny offering as an act of witness against the temple and a statement to convict those who oppress the most vulnerable.

How can our money, like the Widow's Mite, stand up for justice and resist oppression?

Does your money call attention to your own flowing robes and your seat of honor or does your money call attention to the “least of these,” who are forgotten and cast out? I know of one simple way you can use your money to support poor communities in Nicaragua. My friend Jim Burchell will be here today hosting Miguel who is visiting our church and doing an adult education session, about his organization, FEDICAMP which operates in the rural north of Nicaragua. FEDICAMP works to find creative local resources to fight their situation of poverty. If you want to find out more, please feel free to stop by the adult ed session in Barnwell Hall after the service, and Jim will be selling coffee from communities like these all around Nicaragua. And I am not a big coffee drinker, but I'm sure that the coffee is excellent! And it is a wonderful way to support these struggling communities. (PAUSE)

And so the widow's meager offering teaches us to let our money lead us to moments of compassion and generosity. She also inspires us to use our money to stand up against oppression instead of solidifying unjust social structures. Lastly, the widow's mite inspires us not to be defined by the conditions surrounding us. In this story, the widow is not to be defined by how much she owns or how much she doesn't own. But the scribe, on the other hand, pretends and plays “dress up” in order to maintain his social standing. He doesn't really mean it when he prays those long prayers, but the prayers gain him respect, and so he does it anyway in order to maintain power. He lets the system define who he is, what he wears, and who he is friends with, in order to maintain his sense of status.

The widow's vulnerable situation could have just as much power over her. She has every right to be bitter at the world. I'm sure that she has moments of anger against those who oppress her. And she has moments when poverty and loneliness overwhelm her. However, in this moment, she rises above her script. She does not beg, instead, she graciously gives, perhaps in honor of others who are just as vulnerable as she is. She does not let the social structure or fragile economic state define her. Instead, compassion and generosity empower her to rise above her vulnerability. How do you shake your own vulnerability? By allowing others to define you? Or by using generosity and compassion to rise above the script that society has given you? (PAUSE) Have you ever received hospitality from a poor person, or a person who is cast out, like the widow? In Nicaragua, last January, an organization called Inihambia hosted a party for our Peaceworks delegation. Girls who used to live on the street sniffing glue or caught up in prostitution served us a meal and shared their traditional dances with us, not because we are in power or because we demand it, but as a free gift of love and hospitality, sharing their talent and passion with us as friends. This was a moment of radical generosity. And for me it was an experience of the sacred. (PAUSE)

The same day that George Bush announced that we would go to war in Iraq, Jonathon Wilson-Hartgrove, a Christian author in the new monastic movement, and his wife landed in Bagdhad with a Christian Peacemaking Team. On their visit Iraqi communities and individuals who were living in the thick of the war-zone welcomed them and brought them into their homes. On day, they received cold Pepsi's from a man's son while the man gave them a tour of his hotel business that had been bombed a few days before. On the tour the man showed them the place where he was sleeping the night of the bombing. He was lucky to survive; the place was in shambles. Now, while they were visiting with this man and his son, the police arrived and they arrested the peacemaking team. Since the team had not reported their whereabouts to the proper authorities they were to be deported the next day.

On their last day in Iraq, they caravanned out of the city in three cars. Jonathon and his wife were in a car at the beginning of the caravan. The cars drove fast in order to avoid any danger. All they saw on their drive through the desert was burned out cars with doors wide open, which wasn't a hopeful sight. When they got to their destination they realized that the third car had fallen behind. They waited and waited, and finally they decided to turn back to find them. After a short drive, they found the third car in a ditch, but their friends were not in the car. They asked around, and a group of Somalian's helped them to get gas and directed them to the nearest town. Once they got to the little town, called Rutba, they found their friends and the friends explained that their tire had blown out and they flew into a ditch at a high speed. Two of them friends smashed their heads against the dashboard and they had significant injuries.

They found the doctor in the town and he rushed them into his home. He said to them, “Three days ago your country bombed our hospital, but we will take care of you. Christian or Muslim, Iraqi or American—we will take care of you.” And he sewed up their heads and saved their lives. Jonathon thanked the doctor that day and asked him what they owed him and the doctor said “You don't owe us anything. Please just tell the world what is happening here in Rutba.” And so, they came back to the states and they started a Christian community and named it the Rutba House and they tell this story in honor of the Rutba community in Iraq.

The vulnerability of this doctor, in thick of the tragedies of a warzone, did not prevent him from seeing the need of these new friends. His vulnerability led him to empathy rather than rage or bitterness. The social categories of American and Iraqi did not influence him to react against his “enemy,” rather he responded with compassion. The widow's mite teaches us to let our vulnerability lead to compassion and to rise above the categories that define us. And the widow teaches us to let these stories of radical generosity convict all of us of the need for social change, and care for the “least of these” in our own society.

Jesus says, “whatever you have done to the least of these, you have done to me.” And so, how does your money care for “the least” in our community, in our country, in our world? How does your money draw you out of a place of vulnerability and fear into a space of compassion and generosity? How do you let your money lead to justice? How do you direct your bank account to help you “see others in need” rather than making yourself “seen” by others? How can our money be a sacred gift that leads us into communion with each other, thereby leading us into communion with God? (PAUSE)

And now in a spirit of generosity, rising above social categories, considering justice and compassion for the least of these, we turn our eyes to the table and we remember the life of Christ, who embodied radical generosity and loving service. We remember Christ, who emptied himself taking the form of a servant not grasping at power or fame. We remember Christ, who cared for lepers, widows, and sinners.

And so all are invited to gather around this table to celebrate the life of Christ. We will literally gather around the table and pass the bread and the cups and wait to take them together. If you prefer to remain seated someone will serve you. As we gather for communion today, let us contemplate the meager life of Christ and the widow's mite. Amen.