November 10. 2024

May the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart be acceptable in your sight, O God, my strength and my redeemer. Amen.

Our Gospel reading today includes the story of the widow’s mite. Jesus sits with his disciples in the outer courtyard of the Temple, watching as people come to deposit their coins into the collection box. And he draws the disciples’ attention to one poor widow who, in putting two small coins into the box, has put in “everything she had, all she had to live on.”

It’s convenient for preachers that this text comes around at this time of year. Because it just happens to be stewardship season.  Time for me to invite you to make a financial pledge to Christ Church for 2025.  It’s an important time, because those pledges—your gifts—shape so much of what we can do.  And it doesn’t take a genius to look at this story and think: here’s a perfect model for giving.

And maybe she is. After all, Jesus seems to think so. “Truly I tell you” he says to the disciples—the key phrase indicating that what follows isn’t satire or sarcasm or hyperbole, but important teaching. “Truly I tell you”, Jesus says “this poor widow has put in more than all those who are contributing to the treasury”.

But.

I’m challenged by the example of this woman’s sacrifice. I’m challenged by the idea of giving up more than we should, and less than we can.  It seems like such an unattainable standard.  And I’m worried. I’m worried that we take advantage of this woman—and the poor in our midst—if we don’t read this story and think “Gosh darn it, another widow? Not again!” I’m worried about the message we send if we make this story all about the money.

So I want us to spend a few moments this morning re-imagining this story. The Gospel stories invite us to see ourselves as one of the characters.  And it’s tempting to try to see ourselves as the widow, and then despair at our failure to be her. Or we might think we’re the disciples who are being told to put this widow on a pedestal.

But maybe, this morning, we’re invited to see ourselves as those small copper coins. Because we’re so much more than what our work can produce.  So maybe we need to see these coins—and ourselves—as more than money. Maybe we need to see them as representing our faith and belief and how we live these out in our lives in concrete acts. After all, another translation of the original Greek would say that the widow put in “her whole life”.

So maybe we need to see the giving of these coins as the giving over our whole selves. Maybe these coins are our faith-filled offering in presenting all of who we are and all we hope to become to God for service to the world.

And I wonder, what does it mean for us to put ourselves into God’s collection box?

What we might find is that our value is far more than the money we can offer to the church. When we give our life over to God—when as people of faith, we give over everything we have—we give so much more than money.  We give grace.  We give hope. We give love.  We give compassion.  And instead of coming at this giving from a scarcity mindset—of worrying what will happen to us when we give it away—we realize that God has gifted us with an abundance of mercy and grace that has the power to transform the world.

I had an opportunity this week to be with a group of people who were gathered in God’s name.  And in the midst of that group was a profoundly broken person. Someone who desperately needed to know that—in the midst of a broken life—that they were loved by others.  And most importantly, by God.  And this group of amazing people gave their coins of compassion and love and listening. They gave their selves. We stood around this person and laid their hands on them and prayed over them. And out of that abundance of grace and mercy and love came a moment of healing. A moment of the Divine Presence—where deep and abiding Christian witness gave us a glimpse of God’s promise for creation. That every tear will be wiped away and all things will be made new.

I hope that you give generously during our stewardship campaign. We can do so much with your gifts. But we need to remember that Jesus calls us to give something far more costly than money. Jesus calls us to give our lives—to give our selves—to embody God’s extravagant love in acts of compassion and mercy for the sake of the Kingdom.

I need to say a word, this morning, too, about this last week’s election. And this is something you’ll hear from me every two years. Regardless of who wins, or who loses. 

Some of our candidates will have won. Some will have lost. And in this room there’s a range of feelings. Nothing I say this morning is going to change that.

But no matter an election’s result, our task as a church—as Christians—remains the same. Jesus continues to call us to love God and love our neighbor. As Episcopalians, we do this by living out our baptismal promises.  To proclaim by word and example the Good News of God in Christ. To seek and serve Christ in all persons, loving our neighbor as ourselves. To strive for justice and peace among all person, and to respect the dignity of every human being.  To persevere in resisting evil, and whenever we fall into sin, repent and return to the Lord. To continue in the apostles’ fellowship and prayer and in the breaking of the bread.

That is our core work as Christians. Each of us is gifted to do this in unique ways. And we take comfort knowing that “we will, with God’s help”.  Knowing that the Holy Spirit is inviting us into her work that is leading inevitably—inexorably—to all of Creation’s reconciliation with our Loving God.  Amen.