“Beware of the scribes,” Jesus said. Scribes in ancient Israel were skilled writers and people who understood math well enough to be in charge of legal financial documents. Often they became interpreters and teachers of the Law. Their association with money, power, religion, and politics was perhaps inevitable, and wherever we find that combination of power in the public realms we are likely also to find abuse of power and hypocrisy—both then and now.[1] That’s not to say that all the scribes were dastardly hypocrites, however. Surely some executed their duties faithfully and honestly. In today’s gospel passage, Jesus tells us to beware of those scribes who flaunt their position, draw attention to their piety with long public prayers, or show off their wealth in the Temple while operating the remainder of the week as leaders in a system that oppresses and abuses widows. That simply is not righteous behavior. In her book, Amazing Grace: A Vocabulary of Faith, Kathleen Norris reminds us that “righteousness is consistently defined by the prophets, and in the psalms and gospels, as a willingness to care for the most vulnerable people in the culture, characterized in ancient Israel as orphans, widows, resident aliens, and the poor.”[2] Norris goes on to point out that much of God’s wrath in scripture is directed against those who hoard their wealth to the detriment of a better quality of life for those who are most vulnerable. I’m not going to ask if there are any scribes among us this morning, but I will venture to say that the Church as an institution and most of us as individuals probably could do a more conscientious job of caring for and lifting up the most vulnerable members of society. That is one of the challenges given to us in this story from Mark’s Gospel.
As I consider this challenge, it seems to me that Jesus’ story of the scribes, the rich people coming to the Temple, and the poor widow is not meant to condemn those who have great resources so much as it is an invitation to recognize the need for coherence and congruency between gifts given as part of worship and the way we live our lives the rest of the week. In this passage, one might hear an echo from the ancient prophets and psalmists who warned against worship rituals emptied of their power by devious and dishonest dealings outside of worship. Our gifts of money, time, and talent ought to be a sign and symbol of giving our total selves to God’s service. With God’s help, it is possible to make that gift no matter what our financial circumstances are. When we do so, our worship rituals are not hollow hypocritical exercises, but once again bear great power.
Let’s look at the story a bit more. Jesus was there that day at the Temple Treasury—sitting off to the side so that he could observe people as they brought their offerings forward. Jesus saw many people and looked into their lives, listened to their hearts, and observed their attitudes toward giving.
A woman came that day. She had precious few financial resources on which to live. She was vulnerable because she had no male protector in a society where that was very important. She had no fancy robe to wear. She did not stop to greet people nor did they greet her. The two copper coins in her hand were tiny. Even if she held them up, it would be hard to see them. And in any case, some people would probably have laughed at how ludicrous it was to even bother making the trip to the Temple with such an inconsequential offering. How quick we are sometimes to judge the merit of other’s gifts!
This poor widow entering the Temple Treasury is all but invisible to most people. Who cares about her? She can’t give enough to make any real difference or so it seems. Eyes look through her or around her. People turn aside as she makes her way down the aisle. Yet one set of eyes doesn’t turn aside. One set of eyes is fixed on the woman. One heart connects with her heart and understands the rich and faithful gift she is giving. To Jesus she is not invisible. To Jesus she is a person of worth, a person of great stature, a person to be respected for her faithfulness, an example for his disciples who are trying to learn how to be faithful to their calling without fearing for their basic needs. Her gift counts for a great deal. Perhaps Jesus also feels sadness, however, at the thought of the wealthy who have allowed her to remain in poverty and also wants his disciples to absorb that reality and work to change it.
The poor widow’s two small copper coins go into the receptacle in the Temple’s Court of Women without fanfare. She doesn’t ask for praise, she just gives her all. She is taking a risk. For the wealthy, a lot of money can be given without incurring much risk at all. For this woman, the risk is great and immediate, but she gives what she has. Her life is totally in God’s hands.
She knows at a deep level that all she has—her very life—is a gift from God and so it is with our lives. We are merely caretakers—stewards—of that gift. Whatever we have is already God’s. We can honor God by dedicating our whole lives and all our resources to God or we can thumb our noses at God by hoarding our resources, by living hypocritical lives. God gives us a choice as individual stewards and as collective stewards of the church’s resources.
What might that mean, practically speaking? In yesterday’s address to Diocesan Convention, Bishop Doug said he is going to be “doubling down on social justice.”[3] That’s a way of saying we as a Church are going to narrow the gap between what we say in our worship and how we act in our corporate and individual engagements with society. As good stewards of the abundant life we have been given so graciously by God, we must increase our awareness of the most vulnerable among us — in our congregations, in our communities, and in the world beyond the Berkshires. Perhaps that means giving our time to be in open and honest dialogue with those who are struggling or suffering. Perhaps it means giving our energy and skill and resources to make changes that benefit all, not just the top 1% who hold so much of our nation’s wealth. Perhaps it means life style choices that might impact climate change. It most certainly means working for racial reconciliation. You can add to this list from your own experiences, I’m quite sure.
Grace Church, along with most congregations, is in the midst of the fall stewardship season, so thoughts naturally turn to what and how we give to God through the church. If those who have much are giving a little bit, can we then pat ourselves on the back after signing a pledge card and rest on our laurels? No. That would make us like the Scribes in Mark’s Gospel. We must continue to ask ourselves not the typical question, “How much ought we give to God from what we have?” but rather the harder question, “How much, of all that God has given us, ought we to keep for ourselves?” That means we must pay attention to how we use all our resources. Are we needlessly wasting those resources or are we using them in ways that give honor to God? How can we adjust our lifestyle in order to share more of God’s abundant grace with others? Do our decisions pay attention to the gospel imperative to work toward God’s justice on earth—to “double down on social justice”? We honor our Creator and recognize our utter dependence on God’s grace by offering not just our money, but all our decisions about life, to God and always striving to let go of the tendency to hoard resources for our own selfish purposes.
Some people are blessed with the understanding that true giving is a gift from the heart. They understand that true giving is an offering of our whole lives, returning to God that which is already God’s, placing ourselves in the offering plate so that we might be used by God.
The story is told of a young Kenyan woman—a woman from a family with few material resources. She was attending worship with her two small children. When it came time for the offering to be received, she had no coins in her purse. But she had a profound understanding of the call to present your offering to God at the altar. This mother sitting on the worship bench in that holy place bent over and began to remove her shoes. As the offering basket was passed to her, she stopped and placed it on the floor. Reverently, humbly, gently, she stepped with her whole body into the receptacle—and prayerfully stood there for a moment. A ripple of murmurs ran quickly through the congregation. “What is she doing?” “I never saw anything like this before!” Then a respectful hush fell over the room. After a minute or two, she stepped out, picked up the basket, and passed it on. In this brief, dignified, startlingly honest action is captured the essence of Christian living and Christian stewardship, as expressed in words from the Rite I Eucharistic Prayer in our Book of Common Prayer: “Here we offer and present unto thee, O Lord, ourselves, our souls and bodies to be a reasonable, holy, and living sacrifice unto thee.” [4] Wow!
The Kenyan woman placed her whole self in the offering basket. The poor widow in Mark’s Gospel placed everything she had in the Temple treasury as Jesus watched. God calls us to be faithful and generous givers, as well. It doesn’t matter whether we possess all the gold in Ft. Knox or whether we are scraping by with a few dollars a day. What matters is that we recognize God as the source of all we have. What matters is that we honor God with our lives and with our material possessions. What matters is that we place our faith and trust in Christ and give him control over our whole self. When we do that, we begin to understand the true meaning of stewardship and exhibit congruence and coherence between our Sunday words and our Monday-Saturday actions.
When the offering plate comes to you this morning, imagine taking off your shoes and faithfully, boldly, humbly standing in it, offering all that you are — heart, soul, mind, and strength — and all that you have — time, talent, and treasure — to the service of our Lord Jesus Christ, even as he offers all of himself to you. Welcome the Scribes and teach them what it means to turn away from hypocrisy to true service. Welcome the poor widows and others who are in need, help them to become visible, come along side them as fellow beloved children of God, accept their gifts, and share your power and resources so that we are all lifted up to greater health and wholeness. Jesus is watching and waiting.
[1] Feasting on the Word, Year B, Vol. 4, Louisville: WJK, 2009, p. 287
[2] Amazing Grace: a Vocabulary of Faith, Kathleen Norris, New York: Riverhead Books, 1998, p. 96
[3] https://www.diocesewma.org
[4] Anglican Digest, Lent 1998, 7