Proper 27, the Sunday closest to November 9.

In 2009, 23 Pentecost.

BCP:

I Kings 17:8-16.
Psalm 146 or 146:4-9.
Hebrews 9:24-28.
Mark 12:38-44.

The hook that holds three of our four readings together is the reference to widows in each. Psalm 46 says that the Lord sustains the orphan and widow but frustrates the ways of the wicked. The reading from I Kings is about the poor widow from Zarephath who feeds the prophet Elijah with cakes that she makes from the last of her resources, a small amount of meal and oil. Her fear is that she and her child will then die, since they have nothing left. And the Gospel reading from Mark tells of a poor widow who gave her last coins to the temple treasury. The focus is, explicitly in Kings and Mark, implicitly in the psalm, not on all widows, just on poor widows.

The poor widows in Kings and Mark may share the fear that if they give away the last of their resources they will die. The Markan story doesn’t say that but it is easy for us to think it might be the case. If you have ever lost your means of income, whether from work or inheritance or through death of a supporting spouse, you know the fear that comes with that loss. It happened to me once and I genuinely feared that I would be begging in the streets before  many months passed. But on the face of it the widow of Zarephath’s trust in her last meal and oil is a thin thread. It could at most give her and her child one more meal, and yet it was all she had to cling to. When people come to food shelves, it is often the case that their greatest problem is not immediate hunger but a fear that they will ultimately have nothing to cling to. The gift of a bag of groceries is a pittance in their total life picture, but it may be a lifeline on which to hang their hope.

Like the story of Abraham being asked to sacrifice Isaac, his only son, one point of this story is to contrast dependance on the passing things of this world with dependence on God. Ancient stories, not just those in the Bible often express on first glance, values that  offend us. Why would God’s prophet take from a suffering widow the last meal that keeps her and her son alive? Why would God ask Abraham to sacrifice his only son? What a cruel thing? We forget that earlier on God had told Abraham that Sarah would give birth so that their descendants would outnumber the stars. Readers of the story in the days of old would have known this also and so they would have known the outcome. they would have said, “This is just a parable of total faith, not a real occurance where God made a demand that was cruel.” The lesson would have been clear. the Lord will provide. Take no thought for what you shall wear or for what you shall eat, etc. the lesson may offend our sense of responsibility but it is a lesson, none-the-less, not a historical story in which there was some chance that Abraham might not take up the knife, or that God might not provide the ram. So we know from the start, especially if we have read it many times, as would have been the case at Israelite festivals, that Elijah’s request is meant, not to heighten our disgust at such a cruel request, but to remind us all that sometime, somewhere, we will all face our last bit of meal and oil and learn that our dependence on things of this world is ended. We turn the parable into an aphorism when we say, “You can’t take it with you.” And it uncovers the fear by which we cling to even the least of these things.

It is tempting, in turning to the widow in Mark’s Gospel, especially with Stewardship Sunday just a week away to find in it a similar lesson, and it is there. The poor widow gives her last farthing, and has nothing left. The rich pharisees give much more but have plenty left. We miss the point if we get into an argument about tithing, for instance. After all, the widow didn’t give ten percent, she gave one hundred. And we have no idea what percentage the rich gave. The emphasis in the story is not on what was given but on what was left, much versus nothing. Andrew Carnegie built libraries around the country, but his generosity never threatened to bankrupt him. One reason we would all like to be philanthropists is that we could do good for others without doing bad to ourselves.

One scholar has classified all the various interpretations of this parable into about five categories. One of those  categories is that Jesus points to the widows spirit of generosity. A spirit of generosity is wonderful, but there isn’t a word in the story about the widow’s motives. We have to read that into it. All the parable says is that her gift was greater because it left her with nothing. Jesus might be asking those around him what they fear, what they hope to cling to if they, in following him, risk losing everything. We could make a brief sermon out of that. It would go like this. When you consider following Jesus, what do you worry about having to give up? I was baptised by a man who later became bishop of New Jersey. He became an Episcopalian because he thought it ridiculous to have to give up dancing and card playing, both of which were required by the denomination he had belonged to. In one of Jesus’ parables, which we read earlier this year, a rich young man is asked to sell his assets and give it to the poor. With very good logic, we might note that if he gives up his wealth creating capacity, there will come an end to his ability to give in the future. We try to manage our resources for long term effectiveness, but in Jesus’ time many thought such an attitude was foolish because the end of the world was in view. When we think about our church pledge, it is inevitable that we worry about what will be left. For, it seems, no matter how much we have, we worry that at some time it won’t be enough.

But look at the context of the story. It is preceded by Jesus denunciation of the rich for devouring widow’s houses while making long prayers in the temple for the sake of appearances. And it is followed by his forecast of the destruction of the very temple itself. Could Jesus be saying, the religious authorities see to it that everyone comes into the temple to pay the treasury tax, and always in front of others. It is an obligation. For the widow it is a deadly obligation, after all, one cannot cut the smallest coin up into little worthless pieces. that would be no contribution at all. The widow faces exposure. A person of any means would have known they were to contribute coins made of silver. By putting in a copper coin, which it was, she was exposing her poverty and thus her social class. She has to be seen in public giving away her last coin which means she is disobeying the law that her first obligation is to her family, not the temple. All this humiliation is being forced on her by this practice endorsed and supported by these rich people who will expose their silver, thus their high social status. In this view, the coming destruction of the temple ends the entire practice and system by which piety is a greater measure of the spirit than justice. It is not an attack on all piety, only on that piety which is used to distract attention from our willingness to overlook, or even exploit injustice.

I received one of those emails recently, the kind that we all get when some hot political issue is afoot in the land. This one was a complaint that a current tax proposal was going to put a greater burden on the wealthy, but it cleverly focused on the question of why even the lowest income people shouldn’t pay some tax. The argument was that everyone should have some part in paying for whatever it is that we use taxes for. How else can they feel ownership of this country? It is a flawless argument. Of course the widow should pay her part and she may have wanted to, the story doesn’t say. But the real purpose of asking this question in this email was to take my mind off the real issue, which was the writer’s concern about his own taxes. Had he said, “The country is in deep trouble. We should all help out, even the poorest, for we are dumping our problems on our grandchildren and their children. And, by the way, I am willing to give more, after all, I will still have plenty left. We must correct this growing injustice of borrowing from our descendants to pay for our expenses.” Ah, then I might have said, you have a good point. But if you just want the poor to give some so you can keep more, how is that not devouring the houses of the widows? How is that not using what appears to be patriotism as a facade for wanting to keep one’s own riches, already more than you can use.

Mark is telling us that Jesus knows that he is seen by those in power as a revolutionary. He knows that a confrontation is to take place in Jerusalem. And it will be a confrontation between the values of the entrenched establishment and those expressed in the beatitudes that we heard last week.

Lest we get too critical though, of the values of the email I described, we should not forget that we are all capable of such an attitude when we fear that we won’t have enough left over.

The wardens, vestry and I received a letter this week about tithing. The ten percent issue could be discussed in great enough detail to make another whole sermon or several of them. But the writer understood the basic issue. He said the bottom line is “God knows your every need and He cares.” To the extent that we trust that, our fear diminishes, and our concern for what is left over retreats and our need to cover our fear with piety disappears and our support for the poor widows and for justice for the oppressed grows.