Tag: Mark

Homily for the Twenty-Fifth Sunday after Pentecost: “A Tale of Two Widows”

This sermon was preached at Saint Stephen’s Episcopal Church in Sherman, Texas, on Sunday, November 10, 2024.

Texts: 1 Kings 17:8-16, Mark 12:38-44

Sometimes a story from the New Testament can only be truly understood when it’s viewed alongside a story from the Old Testament.

Our Gospel reading today is the story of the poor widow’s offering. At this point in Mark’s Gospel, Jesus has entered Jerusalem for the final week of his earthly life. He is daily teaching and healing the sick in the Temple. On one afternoon, Jesus is sitting opposite the Temple treasury, and he observes people from the crowd putting money into it. He saw that there were many rich people putting in large sums. But one woman, a poor widow, puts into two copper coins, which together make a very small amount, a mite or a penny. Barely anything.

And Jesus is so affected by this act that he calls his disciples to himself and says to them, “Truly I say to you, this poor widow has put in more than all those who are contributing to the treasury. For they all contributed out of their abundance, but she out of her poverty has put in everything she had, her whole livelihood.”

And that’s the story. It’s brief and leaves out many details we might like to know.

Why was the widow putting into the treasury the last bit of money she had? How did she feel about this?

And what does Jesus really think of this? Does he approve of this act? Does he want his disciples to imitate this?

Because on the face of it, this is not advisable. If you are poor, if you are a widow in the ancient world and therefore without the ability to support yourself, and if all you have is two coins, you should not be obligated to give to the Temple. You’re clearly in need and shouldn’t feel you have to be responsible for giving your money away— if anything, people should be helping you out.

This passage is sometimes used in stewardship seasons to encourage generous giving, even when people are in real financial need. The message goes, “She didn’t have much but she gave all she had. So we should give generously too, even if we don’t have a lot, even if we’re struggling.”

This is, I believe, a flawed reading of the story and ironically the very sort of thing Our Lord was criticizing just a few verses before this episode.

The Lord warns against the scribes, the scholars of the Law, who like to be honored with salutations and the best seats in the synagogues and at feasts… and who do what? Who devour widows’ houses. They encourage the faithful to give large donations to the Temple or the synagogue— what we would call the church— even if they are in a financially precarious situation. And some widows will do it because they want to be faithful, and after all, these are holy men who are encouraging them to do this.

So the leaders of God’s people have a great responsibility when it comes to the financial counsel they give, because people listen. We just concluded our stewardship season, and I was clear about my belief in the benefits of tithing– probably more so than most Episcopal priests. But a tithe is 10%, it’s not 100%! It’s good to give to the church, but we have to do it in a way that’s responsible. We give generously within our ability, in a way that’s not reckless.

So this story is a commentary on the greed of religious leaders, but it’s also a story about faith… about trust in the face of despair. Its counterpart is the Old Testament story of Elijah and the widow of Zarephath.

In those days, there was a drought in Israel. There was no water, and because of course there’s no rain, the crops can’t grow, so there’s no food either. The LORD commands the prophet Elijah to go to this young widow who lives across the way in Sidon. The widow and her son have run out of food. They’re starving, and she has enough meal to make one more small loaf of bread. She’s gathering sticks to make a fire to bake one last piece of bread to feed herself and her young son. This is a woman who is resigned to her fate. Unless a miracle occurs, they’ll soon be dead. She’s accepted that this will be their last meal.

And here comes this man of God, asking for some water and a piece of bread. And she tells him, “I don’t have any bread, just a little bit of meal. And if I make any for you, I won’t have any for me and my son.” But he assures her to trust him, and to make him a little cake and afterward there will be enough for them too.

Though she had good reason to deny his request for hospitality, something in her told her to do this generous act. She could have denied him his request. She could have said, No there’s only enough for me and my son, get lost! But she was generous and gave Elijah what was meant for her and her son.

And the miracle she had been hoping for, but didn’t expect, occurs. The handful of meal is not spent, nor the little bit of oil, but both last many days. They’re able to subsist on the bread the meal and oil make until the drought ended, the crops returned, and the people were able to eat again. Elijah saved the life of this widow through her generous act.

This story gives us the key to the story of the poor widow’s mite. The poor widow may have also reached the end of her rope. She was in poverty. Maybe she had been hungry and malnourished and poorly clad for a long time. Maybe she had been poor for such a long time that it all was starting to take its toll on her health, and she was nearing the end. Unless a miracle occurs, she’s not going to be able to live much longer.

All she had left was these two copper coins. And those added up to something like a penny— not even enough to buy one meal or even a loaf of bread. So if that’s really all she has left, maybe she thinks to herself, “This isn’t enough to sustain me. If I have to spend it, at least I’ll give it back to God.” So she places it in the Temple treasury as an act of faith, as one last act of generosity in the face of the abyss. Like the widow of Zarephath, she gives away what little she has to someone else, because if she’s going to be dead soon anyway, she might as well do one last act of kindness.

And Jesus notes that this offering, given in the face of despair, is more generous than every other offering that day, because the wealthy give out of their abundance, and their offering is just a small percentage of their livelihood… but she gave the last bit of money she had— she gave everything.

We don’t know what happened to the poor widow. Perhaps she did find a benefactor and was able to get the food and necessities she needed. I like to think so. But even if she didn’t, her act of generosity is immortalized in the Gospels, and she takes her place on that noble list of people whom Jesus praises.

This story is not really about how much we should give to the church. It’s certainly not a justification for encouraging giving that’s reckless. This is a story about choosing to act with kindness in the face of despair.

You may feel defeated in some aspects of your life. You may feel that you’ve come to the end of your rope, that your resources have run out, and you don’t know how you can go on.

Some of you may be disappointed by the outcome of last week’s election and concerned about the direction our country is heading. Or perhaps something else is weighing on your mind.

All of us can have seasons in life where we feel defeated. When it’s hard to imagine a better future. It’s hard to envision a solution to our problems. We feel hopeless. And maybe we’ve even resigned ourselves to the idea that things won’t get better. And if we get to that point, we can become despondent, give up, or maybe even lash out at the people around us. Despairing people are rarely good company.

Or… even if we feel defeated, even if we feel like things are hopeless, we can refuse to give in to despair. We can keep living, and when the opportunity presents itself, we can be kind. We can give to others, even if we feel that we should only have to be concerned with ourselves. Because after all, the widow of Zarephath and the widow in Jerusalem would be justified in saying that they shouldn’t have to look after anyone but themselves. “Hey, I’m starving. Hey, I’ve only got a penny to my name. I shouldn’t have to do anything for anyone.” And yet, they both chose to perform an act of kindness for another.

This is especially relevant when we’re going through a time of crisis— a medical crisis, marriage problems or family problems, financial hardship, depression. We may think, “I shouldn’t have to do anything, I’m going through this or that. I shouldn’t have to deal with other people’s problems.” And it is good to not overextend ourselves when we’re stretched thin. But when the opportunity presents itself, we can still do a kind act— even as something as small as a smile or a kind word.

So if you are in a hard place, if you feel defeated or depressed, if you don’t know how to move forward… just keep trusting. Keep on living, and be kind to others every opportunity you have. And who knows? Maybe God will provide a miracle for you too. And you will find a way out of the drought, out of the mire, out of the seemingly hopeless situation you find yourself in. And the acts of kindness you did along the way, in the face of despair, will remain unto the ages. Amen.

Homily on the Rich Young Ruler: “Being Seen”

This sermon was preached at Saint Stephen’s Episcopal Church in Sherman, Texas, on Sunday, October 13, 2024.

Texts: Hebrews 4:12-16, Mark 10:17-31

Being seen is, I believe, one of the great desires of the human heart. All of us want to know that others see us and care about us. None of us likes to be ignored or to think to ourselves, “No one even knows about me. No one even really sees me.”


And there’s an expression that millennials sometimes use. They’ll say, Ah, I feel so seen. And usually, they’re watching a television show, and there will be something that happens in the show that they relate to. And they’ll say, I feel so seen. What they’re really saying is, “I didn’t know that other people felt that way. I didn’t know that other people had that experience. I thought that was just me. But now I’m seeing it reflected in someone else’s experience.”


I was thinking about this when I was reading through our Gospel reading, because Jesus looking at or seeing the rich young man is the turning point in this conversation.


The Evangelist Mark relates to us that as Jesus was setting out on a journey, a man ran up, knelt before him, and asked him, “Good teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life?” And Jesus’s response may surprise us. He says, “Why do you call me good? No one is good, but God alone.” It may seem like Jesus is denying that he is good or denying that he is divine.

But this comment must be seen in the context of what the man believes Jesus to be. He’s not approaching Jesus as the Son of God, but as just another ordinary rabbi. Jesus sees that the man is trying to flatter him. “Good teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life?” And Jesus is saying, Why do you call me good? Only God is good. Are you saying that I’m God? If so, then you should listen to me. And if not, then you’re just flattering me. So Jesus is not denying his own deity, but rejecting human flattery.


Jesus continues, “You know the commandments,” and then he lists several commandments from the Decalogue. The man responds, “Teacher, I’ve kept all these since my youth.” We can hear in this response some pride, kind of like a student who wants to impress the teacher. “I’ve kept all the commandments since I was young.” He was wanting, perhaps, a word of praise, a commendation.


And then the Gospel text says, “Jesus, looking at him, loved him.” It could also be translated, Jesus seeing him, loved him. Now presumably he had already been looking at him, they were having a conversation, but St. Mark thinks it’s important to relate to us that at that point in the conversation, Jesus saw the man. He recognized something in him. He saw his very heart.


Looking at him and truly seeing who he was and what was important to him, Jesus loved him. And he said to him, “You lack one thing. Go sell what you own and give the money to the poor and you will have treasure in heaven. Then come follow me.” In the other account of this event in Matthew, he adds, “You lack one thing, if you wish to be perfect, go sell what you own and give the proceeds to the poor. Then come, follow me.” Sell everything you have, give the money to someone else, and follow me.

This invitation from the “good teacher” just floored the young man. This is not how he thought this conversation was going to go. He was so confident in himself. He thought he was going to approach this renowned rabbi and say, Good teacher, what must I do? And then Jesus would tell him, Do this, this, and that. And he would say, Oh, well, I’ve already done all that. I’ve done it since my youth. And then the rabbi would say, Well, very good. You clearly are going to have eternal life.


The rich young man entered this interaction with confidence, thinking it would end with him being praised. He didn’t think that the rabbi was going to call on him to sell everything he owned.


But even then, it’s less a commandment and more an invitation: “If you want to be perfect.” If you want to have eternal life, keep the commandments. But if you want to be perfect, sell everything you own and follow me.


Jesus commanded him to do this because when he saw him, he recognized that the main thing that was hindering this man’s spiritual growth was his excessive attachment to his material possessions.


And this is understandable, especially given the times in which they lived. Living in the first century Middle East was not easy. They didn’t have the modern comforts and amenities we have. It was a harsh desert landscape, and the Jewish people were under Roman rule. There had not been a prophet in 400 years. Life was uncertain and hard, and many people had begun to feel that God was not really looking out for them anymore. So many looked to wealth as a source of security. “If I can just make enough money, I’ll be okay.” “If I can at least have a comfortable lifestyle, I can make it.”


Whenever a person clings to something too tightly, it’s an expression of their fear. They are afraid of losing something or afraid of going without something. So Jesus saw that for this man, his fear resulted in his excessive attachment to wealth, to material comforts… to his possessions. Jesus saw the fear in this young man, and seeing it, Jesus loved him. Jesus was compassionate toward him because he understood the fear and the striving for wealth and security that had come to dominate this man’s life.


And if this was true in Jesus’ day, it’s certainly true today. So many of us are so worried about money, so worried about the future. And in that worry and fear, we strive harder and harder to make more money, so we can have a nicer house, with nice things, so we can go on nice vacations. We strive so hard for these comforts, thinking, If I just have enough money, I’ll be okay. If I can just be comfortable, I’ll be okay.


Because this is also a hard time to be living, for different reasons. The 2020s got off to a rough start. We had the pandemic, an assault on our nation’s capital, several wars, a toxic political climate. There’s a meme online that says, “You know, I’m really getting tired of living through major historical events.”


It’s understandable if we have fears in our heart. And it’s understandable if those fears cause us to cling to something that we feel will give us security or comfort. But God did not create us to live in fear or to seek refuge in the things of this world.


When Jesus sees you, He sees you completely. Sees you in all that you are. At your best moments and at your worst. With all the scars and wounds of your heart… Jesus sees you. “Before him no creature is hidden, but all are open and laid bare to the eyes of him with whom we have to do” (Hebrews 4:13). And seeing you, he loves you.


If you were the person in this Gospel story, when Jesus saw you and loved you, what is it he’d say? “You lack one thing. If you wish to be perfect, do this.” What is it you need to cling to less tightly? Or perhaps the one thing that you need to take on? Because sometimes the Lord calls us to give up something so that we may take up something else. What is it that God is calling you to give up or to give? Or put another way, what fear is God calling you to let go of?


And when God calls upon us to give up the thing that is hindering us or to take on some new thing we’re lacking, we can respond in one of two ways. We can be like the rich young man and go away sad, unable to let go of our fears and attachments. Or… we can rejoice at the opportunity to become more perfect, more mature, by loosening our grip on the things of this world. Because we know that the fullness of life into which our Lord calls us is immeasurably more valuable than any earthly good.


Let us let go of fear: the fear of scarcity, the fear that there won’t be enough. Let’s let go of fear. And if we’re going to cling to something, let’s cling to God. He is our comfort and security and consolation. And whatever we have given up or given away can never compare with what we receive from His most gracious hands. Amen.