Sermon for Pentecost 22, Year B
Based on
Mk. 12:38-44
Martin Luther once said that there are three
conversions of the Christian Faith. There is the conversion of the heart, the
conversion of the mind and the conversion of the pocketbook! And Luther sadly
acknowledged that for many, many Christians, that third conversion, the
conversion of the pocketbook, never takes place.
In this
sermon I want to—put myself out on a limb, and—speak about the conversion of
the pocketbook. And I want to speak frankly and personally and directly.
If some of you feel that pastors shouldn’t talk about money in sermons, if
you feel that preaching about money is out-of-bounds, then I would
simply like to refer you to the pages of the New Testament and especially the
life and teaching of Jesus Christ. For do you know that in four Gospels, Jesus
talks to the people more about money than he does about prayer? Do you
know that of Jesus’ thirty-eight parables, twelve of them are about money and
material possessions? That’s thirty-two percent of his parables that deal
with money! And do you know that throughout the Gospels, approximately
one out of every eight verses of Scripture refers to the topics of money and
possessions? If anything, I feel I have not preached enough about money and
possessions. I feel that in some way I’ve let Jesus down, because I have
not considered money as important a topic in my preaching as he did.
My
purpose in this sermon is NOT to make you feel guilty. Guilt is neither an
effective way to encourage giving to the church, nor I might add, is it a
Christian way. The New Testament is crystal clear about that. We Christians
give to God and to the church, not because of what is required of us. We do
not give because it is demanded of us. Rather, we give in grateful and cheerful
response to what God has (already first) given to us. And so if you feel
guilty because of anything I say, please know that that is not my intent.
Rather,
my purpose is to get you to see yourself as a part of that story from the
Gospel of Mark.1
The story of a poor widow and her offering to the
Lord.
This is a
wonderful and challenging story of God’s grace, because it deals with an
issue of the heart. It’s a story that focuses on the motivation of giving. It’s
a story of sheer generosity and extravagance. It’s a story of giving our all
to serve God and his causes. Whenever I read this passage, I always think
of a story which happened several years ago, when we were serving the parish of
St. John’s, New Sarepta.
The story
goes like this: There was a family living in the community who were very
poor. They lived on social welfare, and were the subject of gossip in the
community. Consequently, they lived in isolation, ostracized by most people,
with only a few friends.
One day, they came to visit me with tears of grief
in their eyes. Their handicapped infant of 14 months had just died, and they
requested that I conduct the funeral service. I agreed. After the funeral was
over, the family expressed their deep gratitude and thanks to me for
ministering to them during their period of grief.
They had
also give me an envelope, which I opened later that evening. Inside the
envelope was a card of thanks and $60.00, a generous gift for such a
dirt-poor family. In fact, their gift was double that of what I had
received from affluent people for the same purpose. Of course, I refused to
cash their check. Nonetheless, I was once again made aware of the generosity
and extravagance of the poor.
The poor,
with their limited resources, are often more generous in their giving than the
wealthy with their abundant resources. It seems to be a fact of life that often
those who give, can least afford to do so, while those who can indeed afford
to, give the least. That extremely
poor family had a tremendous impact on me personally and on my attitudes
about giving. They gave out of their poverty, at great sacrificial cost
to themselves. But, it was a gift offered in sheer gratitude from the
heart. I shall never forget them and their gift.
The widow in our gospel is dirt poor in comparison
to many rich people who were giving large sums to the temple treasury. Yet,
Jesus says that: “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.” In saying this, Jesus gets to the heart
of the matter; the widow’s motives for giving. Unlike the rich and
famous, who want, who demand to be at the centre of attention; who make a show
of everything they do in public; who give out of their ostentatiousness; the
extremely poor widow gives without any fanfare; right from the heart.
If Jesus
hadn’t noticed the widow, most likely no one else would have paid much
attention to her. She gave not out of her surplus—for she had no surplus,
she had no leftovers!—she gave out of her poverty, the only money she had
was given away to God. All, everything! Now that’s generous giving! That’s
extravagant giving! That’s sacrificial giving! That’s risky, costly giving!
That has to be the best, most faithful, loving motive of all for giving. The
gift that really counts is the gift that costs. The gift that’s given out of
risk, sacrifice, extravagance, generosity, and unconditional love.
The moral of the Greeks was, “In all things—moderation.”
Nothing in excess. The wise person is the person who achieves a kind of balance
in life. The person who is able to be committed to certain causes, but never
overly committed. The fires of passion, even passion in a righteous cause,
particularly passion which believes that it is in the service of a righteous
cause, are dangerous. The golden mean, that’s the key to life, in the eyes of
the Greek philosophers.
But Jesus
was no philosopher. He did not teach the Greek way, but rather the Hebrew way.
It was a way characterized more by the effects of love, rather than the demands
of moderation. Excess, extravagance, (generosity) are not bad words in the
Gospels.2
What it
really comes down to is this—what value do we place on our faith? What is it
worth to us? That’s what worship really is. Worship simply means to ascribe
worth to something. And since the offering is as much a part of weekly worship
as are the prayers or the hymns or the Scripture or the sermon, what is it
worth? What value do we give it?3
Are we
willing—if we haven’t already—to undergo what Luther called the third
conversion, the conversion of our pocketbooks? Are we willing to grow
in our stewardship of money? Such are the kinds of very challenging
questions that this story of the poor widow and her offering raise for us
today.
On one
occasion, Mother Teresa said: “I ask you one thing: do not tire of giving,
but do not give your leftovers. Give until it hurts, until you feel the pain.”
That is precisely what the poor widow in our gospel today did—she gave until it
hurts, until she felt the pain, not her leftovers, but all she had, everything.
Widows in that society, unless they had a man in their family to look after
them or unless they had some kind of means of making a living; were, in most
cases, destined for a life of poverty. What faith this widow shows in her
generous, extravagant giving. She gives all her money to the temple. This was a
most dangerous act, inviting disaster—yet, she does it out of faith.
This
generous, extravagant, risky giving; this giving of everything is a
foreshadowing of the greatest giver and gift of them all—namely, Christ and his
sacrificial death on the cross. Christ gave his all; his everything when he
suffered and died on the cross. Through his suffering and death, our sin is
forgiven and we have the promise of eternal life. In response to Christ’s
giving his all; his everything; how much do we give to Christ and for him? What
is our motivation for giving what we give? Because Christ’s giving is so
extravagant; so full of unconditional love towards us; he frees us to
respond to him NOT out of guilt; NOT by demanding us to give; RATHER, he frees
us to respond to him by giving out of loving sacrifice; out of
generosity; out of extravagance; not because we have to, but because we will
want to—like the widow in our gospel; like Jesus himself.