When Heaven Was Shaken

Luke 21:25-36
Advent 1
November 28, 2021

“There will be signs in the sun, the moon, and the stars, and on the earth distress among nations confused by the roaring of the sea and the waves. People will faint from fear and foreboding of what is coming upon the world, for the powers of the heavens will be shaken. Then they will see ‘the Son of Man coming in a cloud’ with power and great glory. Now when these things begin to take place, stand up and raise your heads, because your redemption is drawing near.”

Then he told them a parable: “Look at the fig tree and all the trees; as soon as they sprout leaves you can see for yourselves and know that summer is already near. So also, when you see these things taking place, you know that the kingdom of God is near. Truly I tell you, this generation will not pass away until all things have taken place. Heaven and earth will pass away, but my words will not pass away.

“Be on guard so that your hearts are not weighed down with dissipation and drunkenness and the worries of this life, and that day catch you unexpectedly, like a trap. For it will come upon all who live on the face of the whole earth. Be alert at all times, praying that you may have the strength to escape all these things that will take place, and to stand before the Son of Man.”


The pumpkin pie is barely cold, and Jesus speaks of the end of the world. Once again, the calendars collide.

I hope you had a good Thanksgiving. On the cusp of winter, we pause and give thanks for all the blessings received from the hand of God. The past year had its challenges, but we have gotten through it. So we gathered at abundant tables, sliced up the feast, and celebrated all the goodness we have tasted. The main course for the meal is gratitude: gratitude for a generous God, a saving God, a most gracious God.

And yet, Jesus says, “Keep your eye on the sky. The end is near.”

It’s a hard Sunday to preach. If I had my druthers, we’d have another slice of pie and sing a few more verses of “Now Thank We All Our God.” Gratitude is a virtue, the well-spring of love and generosity. We love and give because God has loved and provided for us. One Thursday a year is a good beginning for counting our many blessings - family, friends, meaningful work, warm home, reliable resources, and so much more.

Gratitude looks backward. We survey what we’ve received. We give thanks for what we’ve experienced.

And yet, the Voice of Advent interrupts and points us to the sky ahead. “Signs in sun and moon and stars… the heavens will be shaken.” Friday night, heaven shook a bit when we returned my mother to her home. The snow dust came tumbling down. It’s a sign of things to come.

Beyond the return of snow, there are perpetual signs of trouble. Jesus assumes we will always endure “distress among the nations,” that the sea will roar, and people will be afraid. Distress is what drives the daily news. There’s always something to panic about. The Lord is not surprised by that. In his own day, there were earthquakes, famines, and the occasional deadly pestilence. Nations were always clashing their swords against one another.

And in his Advent Voice, Jesus declares the day is coming when all of that will be over. No more swords, no more danger, no more violence. He speaks with the Old Testament prophets, pointing ahead to an event they called “The Day of the Lord.” They were convinced that human history is going somewhere. The seasons may cycle around, the years may slumber on, but one day it will no longer be the same old thing. The hidden Dominion of peace and justice that Christ came to inaugurate will be revealed. All shall see it. It will be obvious and all-encompassing. In the words of the prophet Isaiah, “All flesh shall see the glory of God.” Or as the Lord himself quotes the prophet Daniel, “They shall see the Son of Man coming in power and great glory.” It’s going to be big.

The problem, which Jesus highlights so clearly in our text, is that too many of those covered with flesh have stopped hoping, or working, or preparing the way for the Son of Man to come.

I was telling a couple of my Bible study groups the same old joke that I’m fond of telling every time Advent rolls around. If you’ve heard it, just nod your heads and groan. It’s a joke drawn from the days when the Pope of Rome was Italian, not an Argentinian.

It seems one day in the Vatican, somebody looked out the window. He gasped, called out, and pointed. Everybody in the office gathered around to see Jesus was drawing near on the clouds. It was the big day, the Promised Day, the Day of the Lord. One of the archbishops said, “Get the Pope. Bring him here.”

The Pope arrived, looked outside. Indeed, it was a most glorious sight. He said, “It’s the Lord, coming just as he promised.” And one of them said, “Holy Father, what should we do?” And the Pope said, “Look-a busy!”

Martin Luther would have smiled at that. He famously exclaimed, “When the Lord returns, may he find me at my plow, working in the fields.” In other words, not standing around or twiddling the thumbs or wearing a white robe of celibacy – but at work, tending to the daily chores, anticipating his return by doing what normally needs to get done.

What’s curious in today’s text is neither the Pope’s advice, nor Luther’s retort, seems to have characterized the believers in Luke’s church. As Luke reports the words of Christ, they sting: “Be on guard so that your hearts are not weighed down with dissipation and drunkenness and the worries of this life…”

Now, we know what drunkenness is. What’s “dissipation”? In the Greek language, “dissipation” is another word for “hangover.” So, we wonder what was going on in Luke’s congregation: “Be on guard so that your hearts are nor weighed down with hangovers and drunkenness.” Oh my. Were they going back for refills on the communion wine? Passing around another kind of spirit? Hmm, I wonder.

Luke also reports the story of Pentecost, as told in his second volume, the Book of Acts. In that account, Simon Peter stands up to preach after the miracle of speech and understanding. He addresses the people who had gathered for the Pentecost holiday and says, “These people are not drunk as you suppose, rather they are intoxicated by the Holy Spirit.” But by all appearances, it looked otherwise.

I don't want to make too much of this. There are some churches who make a lot of noise about the consumption of alcohol. One of our choir members grew up in a Kansas City church where the pastor gave an annual temperance sermon. This was the expectation. He told me the story over a glass of wine in his home.

Other churches take a more modest approach, declaring “all things in moderation.” They point out there was wine at the last supper, and the apostle Paul advised, “A little wine is good for the stomach” (1 Tim. 5:23). But he does say, “A little wine.” In Luke’s day, it seems there were more than a few who were tipping a few too many glasses. “Dissipation” was the word he used. It was a distraction from the coming of Christ, a distraction that some had a tough time overcoming. “Be on guard,” he says. Watch out.

And then there’s that other phrase: “Be on guard that your hearts are not weighted down … with the worries of this life.” If you have worries, you might be seeking a distraction. However, if you lean back to get the full sweep of the Gospel of Luke, “worries of this life” are the distractions.

Like that day in the home of two sisters, Mary and Martha. Martha bustled around, preparing dinner, while Mary sat and listened to Jesus teach. Finally Martha built up enough steam to explode, “Teacher, don’t you care that Mary has left me to do all the work by myself? Tell her to help me.”

What does he say to her? “Martha, Martha, you are distracted by the worries of this life” (10:42). Same words.

Or that other day, when he told the crowd a story: “A farmer went out to sow a field. He threw the seed all over the field … Some grew among thorns, and the thorns grew with it and choked it.” Afterward, the twelve disciples said, “Tell us what that one’s about.”

How did he explain it? “As for what fell among thorns, these are the ones who hear (my Word), but as they go on their way, they are choked by the worries and riches and pleasures of life.” (8:14). Same exact words.

I’m reminded of the blooper that somebody saw in a worship bulletin: “Don’t let worry kill you; let the church help.” Kind of a double entendre, don’t you think? It’s true – some churches will add to your worries. They pile on the fears.

But what does Jesus say? Stand tall. Lift your heads. Be on guard. Stay awake – and pray. This is his invitation to pray with our eyes open. To pay attention to the signs of the times and the distractions in our lives – and to look beyond them to the coming of the Lord. He is coming to help, to finish, and save. We will be gathered up, not left on our own.

How does he say it? “Your redemption is drawing near.” The Christ is coming. This is the hope at the heart of Advent. And it’s precious, good news.

In fact, that news is so good that, when I get home today, I’m going to have another piece of pie.

(c) William G. Carter. All rights reserved.

The Parentheses

Revelation 1:4-8
Christ the King
November 21, 2021

John to the seven churches that are in Asia: Grace to you and peace from him who is and who was and who is to come, and from the seven spirits who are before his throne, and from Jesus Christ, the faithful witness, the firstborn of the dead, and the ruler of the kings of the earth. To him who loves us and freed us from our sins by his blood, and made us to be a kingdom, priests serving his God and Father, to him be glory and dominion forever and ever. Amen. Look! He is coming with the clouds; every eye will see him, even those who pierced him; and on his account all the tribes of the earth will wail. So it is to be. Amen. “I am the Alpha and the Omega,” says the Lord God, who is and who was and who is to come, the Almighty.


I’m glad that Andy Kepler is the liturgist today. Thirteen years ago, I traveled with Andy and Donna to a Greek island named Patmos. When you get off the boat, you proceed up the mountain on a long, winding road. You will pass a few cafes, a series of whitewashed Orthodox churches, and a couple of monasteries. On the hill you find the Cave of the Apocalypse. A priest will meet you, hand you a brochure, and point you down a series of narrow steps.

You descend inside a small stone dome. The aroma of beeswax and incense mingle in the air. Icons lean against the wall. Then your eyes notice a large diagonal crack in the cave wall. According to tradition, this is where the prophet John heard the Voice of the Risen Christ. When the Lord spoke, tradition says it cracked the wall.

This was the spot where John had a series of visions that comprise the Book of Revelation. This final book of the Bible is stuffed full of fantastic visions. He can picture strange beasts and hear warnings of woe. He finds himself surrounded by the heavenly choir. They are singing Easter hymns at the top of their heavenly voices. This is a dazzling book, bewildering to many, intoxicating to others. The Book of Revelation tends to divide the Christian house – either you avoid it like one of its plagues or it’s the only thing you read.

Yet the singular message is clear: God rules over all. Jesus Christ is king.

The book was composed as a circular letter, sent to seven churches in uncertain and dangerous times. The original name of the document is the "Apocalypse," which means a disclosure. In the Bible, an apocalypse is a moment when God pulls back the curtain that hides heaven from earth. The Revelation offers glimpses of a holy reality which is normally hid from human eyes.

Today we hear a voice from heaven announcing, "I am the Alpha and the Omega." That unusual expression appears three times in the final book of the Bible. Each time the voice speaks, we learn something about God that is crucial to our faith and life.

The first insight is a simple observation about language. When God announces, "I am the Alpha and Omega," all the fraternity boys sit up straight in their pews. God connects to two letters from the Greek alphabet. In a Bible full of words, God says, “I am revealed in human alphabets.” Letters combine into words. Words are spoken. God's speech makes a world. That is how it was in the beginning, and how it shall be in God's new creation. The Creator’s primary tools are words. Whenever God speaks, something happens.

Reflecting on his life, the author Frederick Buechner affirms how the power of God creates each new day. It is a creative, holy force expressed through words. As Buechner writes,

Darkness was upon the face of the deep, and God said, "Let there be light." Darkness laps at my sleeping face like a tide, and God says, "Let there be Buechner." Why not? Out of the primeval chaos of sleep (God) calls me to be a life again . . . To wake up is to be given back your life again. To wake up is to be given back the world again and of all possible worlds this world . . . Waking into the new day, we are all of us Adam (and Eve) on the morning of creation, and the world is ours to name. Out of many fragments we are called to put back together a self again.[1]

Every morning, the word that puts us back together is the same word that spoke the world into being. If God has been around since the first day of creation, God has seen it all, heard it all, and spoken it all. God does not speak any new words.

As scholars point out, there is no new word spoken in the book of Revelation. In the 404 verses of this book, there are 518 allusions to earlier passages of scripture.[2] The prophet John points to the books of Exodus, Daniel, Zechariah, and the Psalms, among others. John does not simply string together words from other books. He points to the one Word that holds together all other words. Beginning on the first page of Genesis, God speaks a lot of words. By the time we get to the book of Revelation, only one Word captures all God has to say, and that is the Word made flesh, Jesus Christ. As one of our confessions declares, Jesus Christ is "the one Word of God which we have to hear and which we have to trust and obey in life and in death."[3]

Yet there’s something more. Alpha and Omega are more than mere letters in the alphabet; they are the first and last letters. No sooner does God say, "I am the Alpha and the Omega," then a voice in a vision goes on to say, "I am the first and the last" (Revelation 1:17, 22:13). It echoes a passage from the prophet Isaiah's poetry where God says, "I am the first and the last" (Isaiah 44:6). The point is simply this: God alone speaks the first and last words on human life. No other person, power, or principality can say what God alone can say.

We are created by the Word of God and re-created each day. And the Word claims us as well. I think of that every time we stand over there at the baptismal font. If baptism is merely water, it’s an excellent bath. That’s why somebody once told me to splash a lot of water – it is a symbol of the washing away of sin.

But words surround the washing. Remember some of them? Turn from the ways of sin, turn to God. Who is your Lord and Savior? Will you be his disciple? Will you hold these promises in covenantal trust until the little shaver can confirm them at his confirmation? At the heart of the paragraphs and promises, what does it all mean? That we belong to God. No matter what happens, no matter how far we wander, no matter who we discover ourselves to me – before everything else, after everything else, God is our Sovereign Lord.

His sovereignty rules over all tenses – past, present, future. Or rather, “who is, who was, who is to come” - present, past, and future. God will say it a second time, "I am the Alpha and the Omega, the first and the last" (Revelation 22:13). The faithful church lives in this promise. While Revelation is full of unsettling visions and disturbing pictures, the first word is identical to the last word. The beginning and the end are the same.

As the writer addresses this book to the church, he greets them by saying, "Grace to you, and peace from him who is, and who was, and who is to come" (Revelation 1:4). As the book ends, the last words are, "The grace of the Lord Jesus be with all the saints." In between there is much in this book that unsettles a sensitive stomach. But the first word and the last word are the same . . . and the word is grace. It is a word that God alone can say.

Like all the words God speaks, grace is the word that describes how God is relentlessly inclined in our favor. According to our text, Jesus is the "faithful witness" who points to the truth of God's love. He is "the firstborn of the dead," who opens the way of resurrection. Jesus is ruler over the earth's royalty, exalted as King of kings and Lord of lords. He is "the One who loves us," and "the One who sets us free by his blood." He is coming so that every eye will see him.

And the work of grace is not finished yet. We live in a world enchanted by its own destruction. Yet for a few moments this morning the curtain is drawn back, and we catch a glimpse of how God pursues us through the love of Jesus Christ. Thanks to such grace, we belong to a God who has set us free and will never let us go.

Yet one thing more must be said. God speaks the first word, "I am the Alpha and the Omega," and promises to make all things new. God alone speaks the last word, which is a surprisingly gracious word. The third time God says, "I am the Alpha and the Omega," he affirms, "I am the beginning and the end" (Revelation 22:13, 21:6). This is our greatest hope: that God will be both our source and our destination. Through the grace of Christ our king, we trust the God who gave us birth will complete and finish our lives.

Daily crises can blur our vision. When caught up in illness or trouble, we may forget the One who made us. When a kid gets arrested for shooting a military-grade rifle, we wonder, "What's this world coming to?" Listen: every day is full of enough hassles and horrors to shake up the strongest soul. Each one of us needs a place to stand and a promise to hold.

Some days all we can do is hang on by our fingernails, and trust the One "who is, who was, who is to come." We hope for God and remember God. We remember God's saving history and hope for God's final victory. As one of the great hymns of the church sings the essence of faith,

Through many dangers, toils, and snares, I have already come;
'Tis grace has led me safe thus far, and grace will lead me home.

I remember the story of Joachim Jeremias, the German New Testament scholar of the last century. He was the son of a Lutheran missionary in Jerusalem. Hitler came to power, and the relationship between the German people and the Jewish people became hostile and painful. After the Holocaust, Jeremias wished to return to Israel. He wanted to see if anybody remembered him as a young person, and could say to him, "Joachim, we forgive you."

He said, "I knocked on door after door. I couldn't find anybody. Finally a man opened the door. I remembered him, he remembered me. The man said, "Please come in. It is good are here. We are celebrating the feast of tabernacles. Come into our back yard."

The family had erected a tabernacle of brush. The family tradition was to enter through a small door and recount the stories of Israel's life in the wilderness. Professor Jeremias noticed a little piece of paper clipped to one side of the doorway, and another piece of paper clipped to the other side. Jeremias asked his host, "What is written on the papers?"

The man sighed and said, "That is a summary of Psalm 139: 'Where can I go from your spirit? Or where can I flee from your presence? If I ascend to heaven, you are there; if I make my bed in Sheol, you are there. If I take the wings of the morning and settle at the farthest limits of the sea, even there your hand shall lead me, and your right hand shall hold me fast'" (139:7-10).

Jeremias said, "I’m not following you." The man said, "Well, that word on the left is 'from God.' This word on the right is 'to God.' In between, we live from God . . . to God."[4]

This is the parentheses around my life and your life. We live "from God to God." Our destination is to return to our Source. We will return to the God from whom all things were made. In between, we have a promise to claim. We belong to God, the Alpha and the Omega, the first and the last, the beginning and the end.

And before the beginning, after the ending, and all the time between, Jesus Christ rules over all.


(c) William G. Carter. All rights reserved.
//
[1] Frederick Buechner, The Alphabet of Grace (New York: The Seabury Press, 1970) 21-22.
[2] Eugene H. Peterson, Reversed Thunder: The Revelation of John and the Praying Imagination (San Francisco: Harper & Row, 1988) 22-23.
[3] Barmen Confession
[4] Thanks to Fred B. Craddock for the story.

Preaching After the Temple Falls Down

Mark 13:1-10
November 14, 2020
William G. Carter

As Jesus came out of the temple, one of his disciples said to him, “Look, Teacher, what large stones and what large buildings!” Then Jesus asked him, “Do you see these great buildings? Not one stone will be left here upon another; all will be thrown down.”

When he was sitting on the Mount of Olives opposite the temple, Peter, James, John, and Andrew asked him privately, “Tell us, when will this be, and what will be the sign that all these things are about to be accomplished?” Then Jesus began to say to them, “Beware that no one leads you astray. Many will come in my name and say, ‘I am he!’ and they will lead many astray. When you hear of wars and rumors of wars, do not be alarmed; this must take place, but the end is still to come. For nation will rise against nation, and kingdom against kingdom; there will be earthquakes in various places; there will be famines. This is but the beginning of the birthpangs. As for yourselves, beware; for they will hand you over to councils; and you will be beaten in synagogues; and you will stand before governors and kings because of me, as a testimony to them. And the good news must first be proclaimed to all nations.”


Like most of the Bible, the Gospel of Mark was written after the events that it describes. We know this to be true. There was no first-hand account of God creating the world because there was nobody yet to write it down. Adam and Eve hadn’t invented pencils yet. They were too busy figuring out the names of the animals.

In the same way, no one wrote down the story of Christmas before that Easter resurrection thirty-some years later. The shepherds were illiterate. Mary and Joseph were busy. The angels had already gone back to heaven. And the birth of a peasant child didn’t mean anything special until that child grew up, made a name for himself, was crucified, and raised, and people said, “Wow! Where do you suppose he came from?” And his mother said, “Let me tell you what I remember.”

When we listen to the Bible, we listen to memories. They have been collected by people of faith. These are recollections, sifted and organized, sometimes years later. In the passing of time, some memories grow in importance. Disconnected pieces start to make sense. Hidden threads become visible. We discern the significance of some details we were anxious to speed by.

Sometime in April in the year 29 or 30 AD, Jesus stepped out of the Jerusalem Temple with his disciples. The writer of the Gospel of Mark remembers how one of those upcountry fishermen turned around, looked at the huge edifice, and exclaimed, “Shazam! Look how big it is! We don’t have blocks of limestone like this up in Galilee.” Of course not.

The second Jerusalem temple sat on a 36-acre lot. King Herod took this on as his personal rebuilding project. He loved to put his name on buildings; the bigger, the better. According to the accounts, a trench was dug around the mountain. Foundation stones were carved and rolled in, some of them weighing a hundred tons or more. The towers stretched 150 feet into the sky – and they didn’t have mechanical cranes back then.

This was an enormous building. The largest in the land! It offered a suitable location for God to touch down on the planet, which is how the Jewish people understood the temple. It’s the House of God. It’s where the Divine Transaction of Mercy is carried out on behalf of the entire world.

And Jesus said, “Do you see this big pile of stones? The whole thing will come tumbling down.” He said that sometime in April in 29 or 30 AD. Forty years later, Titus, eldest son of the Roman Emperor Vespasian, finished a four-year siege of Jerusalem by tearing down the Temple. Not one stone was left upon another, just like Jesus said.

Now, we can think of this a few different ways. One way is to assume Jesus was a fortune-teller, perhaps divinely inspired, and he knew what was going to happen. A slightly different slant is that he could foretell what was going to happen, an inevitable clash between Rome and Jerusalem and Rome would win. Or third, could it be that Mark wrote down the words of Jesus after they were fulfilled. This would make great sense to me, because when something important happens, something traumatic, we understand our memories in a more dramatic way.

“This temple is coming down…” That’s exactly what happened. It offered a hint there would be no central Temple for those who followed Jesus, no singular location to gather and pray. The faithful people of God would have to spread out, differentiate, find multiple places to worship. And that’s what happened.

Then he said, “Beware of the fakes and the fear-mongers. They will profess to have inside knowledge, and they won’t.” And that’s exactly what happened, too. It has never really ceased. Those people are still out there, pretending to follow Christ while they snarl beneath their smiles.

Ever notice how someone writes a book about the Bible and the End of the World, and the next week, somebody else writes another book – and another book – and another book. Fear is Big Business, especially in the so-called Christian World. Jesus calls them “imposters.”

Then he said, “For nation will rise against nation, and kingdom against kingdom; there will be earthquakes in various places; there will be famines.” These are inevitable, he says. We are a warlike species who can’t quite figure out how to find what works for the greatest number of souls. And this is an unstable planet, with San Andreas fault lines, erupting volcanoes, and enlarging deserts. Terrible things happen in our world. Nobody paying attention will be surprised by that.

The worst is what people do to one another. For Jesus said, “They will betray you and beat you up,” and that shouldn’t surprise us at all. It happened to Jesus – someone betrayed him, others beat him up. If we follow him, the road goes all the way to the cross. Just one more reminder that life is hard. It is hard for everybody – please remember that. Nobody is exempt from pain, difficulty, distress. Especially if they are following Jesus. Especially if their faithfulness is what sets off the powers of destruction.

This is where our memory can help us. Others have gone through trouble before us. Others have lost their temples – not to foreign invasions, but to floods, earthquakes, acts of violence, or even changes outside of their control. There are a lot of empty church buildings, once full, once thriving, once bustling with spiritual energy. But things can change.

Like the congregation I knew that had been through so much. They lost their building in a fire, but they pulled together and rebuilt. But finances were tough, and they couldn’t afford a minister anymore. They tried fundraisers, but raffle tickets didn’t raise enough. Kind-hearted friends pointed out how the old neighborhood had changed. It was no longer a tight-knit community of Welsh souls. The new neighbors were speaking Spanish. Further down the block, they spoke Vietnamese.

One night, the small remainder of the Welsh decided to turn in the keys. They couldn’t do it anymore. No energy to look beyond themselves. No passion to serve a neighborhood full of strangers. There was no earthquake, no famine, no invading army – just a weary few who lost their Temple by walking away from it. One of the most tragic sights I’ve ever seen. They didn’t have sufficient energy to dial 1-800-Got-Junk. We had to dial it for them.

And then, the tragedy of opening the closets of a church that had imploded on itself: a broken mimeograph machine nobody had fixed, a stack of worship bulletins from 1978 that no one had ever thrown out, a rack full of choir robes covered with mildew. I couldn’t help but fear those dear people had gotten so stuck that they forgot what Christ has called them to do.

And what was that? Jesus says it in the text: keruxenthai euangelion. Preach the Gospel. When the Temple is tumbling down, what do you do? Preach the Gospel. When earthquakes shake and floodwaters roar, proclaim the Good News that Christ is stronger than the storm. When crisis creates human need, kneel before the needy and reveal the love of God in Jesus Christ. Keruxenthai euangelion: proclaim the Gospel.

That’s what we do because it doesn’t depend on our circumstances. It rests solely on the foundation of the grace of God. That’s why we are here. That’s what we do.

There’s nothing like a good, old twenty-month pandemic to expose what you’re made of. It reveals if you have any hope, and where you find it. It shakes away the crust and reveals the truth that life comes only from God.

So, the Temple tumbles down. That doesn’t mean God has been destroyed. Merely the building. And what this exposes it our all-too-human tendency to freeze in time what we love. We love this moment and wish it continues forever. We love this constellation of relationships and don’t want it to shift in any way. We love this sacred space, the way that we do things, the routines that we maintain. This is why good people can freak out at the possibility of change, much less the trauma of enormous change. Deep into the second year of a pandemic, I understand that.

Then I hear Jesus say, “Even when the Temple is falling, the Gospel must be proclaimed to all.” Or in his words, Keruxenthai euangelion

As I make my way around the region, I have heard a lot of belly aching. “The church isn't what it used to be. Our congregations are fading away. We don't have any hope. We don't how much longer we can go on.”

I have only one thing to say in reply: Is the gospel still true? Is Jesus still Lord, crucified and risen? Do old King Herod or Emperor Vespasian think they can hang on to power forever? Is anybody or anything eternal, beyond the Eternal One? I think you know what the Bible has to say about that.

Jesus came preaching the kingdom of God. This is the announcement announce that God rules over everything. The Good News reveals at least two truths. First, none of us are going to get what we want because we are not in charge; the planets don’t revolve around any of us. Second, because God rules over everything, God's ways will ultimately become the world’s ways, and, God willing, they will become our ways, too. It may take a while. We can expect a struggle. But resistance is futile. God will win.

What we hear today is a hopeful word. God is greater than the temple that worships him. God is greater than the people who worship him. God rules over all things, not just the small, undersized heart, not the puny despots who tear down physical temples, but all things. So we have nothing to fear.

And that’s good news.


(c) William G. Carter. All rights reserved.

Generous to a Fault?

Mark 12:38-44
November 7, 2021

William G. Carter  

As he taught, he said, “Beware of the scribes, who like to walk around in long robes, and to be greeted with respect in the marketplaces, and to have the best seats in the synagogues and places of honor at banquets! They devour widows’ houses and for the sake of appearance say long prayers. They will receive the greater condemnation.”

He sat down opposite the treasury and watched the crowd putting money into the treasury. Many rich people put in large sums. A poor widow came and put in two small copper coins, which are worth a penny. Then he called his disciples and said to them, “Truly I tell you, 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.”


It's a story we can remember or imagine. Everyone gathers for the birthday party. As the family sings, the little boy leans forward. He blows out five candles on the cake. Everybody cheers. Then a mountain of gifts appears, and the little guy’s eyes open wide. As he rips into the wrapping paper, Grandma realizes most of the packages have come from a single source – from Aunt Kathy. “Kathy,” she whispers later, “you spent too much.”

Or it’s Christmas week, and the new fiancée has arrived at the future in laws. He cuddles by the fire with his beloved. Enjoys the conversation with her family. When it’s his turn, he opens a package to discover a sweater and tries it on. It’s a perfect fit. Then he says, “Here’s a little something for you,” as the rest of her family smiles. She opens a small package and pulls out a key ring. He points and says, “Look out there!” It’s a brand-new Mustang, candy apple red.

As everybody drops their jaws, she says to him, “You shouldn’t have.” He begins to reply, and she cuts him off. “No, really, you shouldn’t have. It’s too much.”

Sometimes generosity might seem to go too far. A gift can exceed the situation. If it’s a moment when we are trading gifts, there’s always someone who exceeds the limit. (I’m thinking of one of my family members; it’s not her.) But somebody does this. Maybe it’s you. And we need not diagnose this psychologically. True giving is not always a power trip, much less a competitive game. No, it’s an expression of the heart.

I found this. I thought of you. I made a sacrifice because I wanted to.

And if the gift is extraordinary, a person’s character is revealed in how they receive or reject the gift.

Of all the low points of my moral life, the lowest came on my 23rd birthday. My college girlfriend showed up at the graduate school I was attending. She extended her arms with a package, to which I said something stupid: “Oh, is that for me?” She rolled her eyes, waited for me to take it. Pulling off the paper, I was stunned to discover a sound system for my car. I listen to a lot of music in the car. She knew that, wanted me to have it.

And I confess to you, I was angry. “You spent too much. You can’t afford this. What are you thinking? Take it back. I can’t accept this.” She started to cry. I didn’t know she had been saving for it, that she took on an extra part-time job to pay for it. In my arrogance, in my inability to see the depth of her sacrifice, I demolished her heart. It was a frosty night. Bitterly cold.

All this bears on how I hear the story of the widow who donates her last two coins to the Jerusalem Temple. It is an astonishing gift. Quantitatively, not much money. Two lepta – two copper coins – barely enough to buy bread. But qualitatively, it’s a fortune. And it’s an act of faith. She will have to trust God to deliver the next meal. Or rely on the mercy of strangers. Yet she gives it. She gives it all.

And Jesus says, “Look at that!” That's all he says - "Look at that!"

Notice what he doesn’t do. He doesn’t go over there and scold her. No, he perceives that selfless generosity is her motivation. She opens herself to great vulnerability. She gives herself away. He understands that, especially a couple of days before his own crucifixion. He’s going to give himself away, too, in an enormously powerful act of vulnerability. He respects what she is doing. Her self-giving resonates with his divine heart.

Notice that he doesn’t go over there and reward her, either. These days, when people hit us up for donations, they often offer something in return. Then we get the little slip declaring the subtracted value of the gift. It misses the point – if you’re giving, you’re giving, not getting.

Like my friends who run an arts center up in the hills. They do a $10,000 raffle. Tickets are a hundred bucks, and they sell only five hundred of them. “You could win the top ten-thousand-dollar prize!” It appeals to our greed, which has a way of canceling any feelings of generosity. So I put a hundred dollars in an envelope and send it to them anonymously, because I want them to have the money. I don’t need to “get” anything in return. I believe in what they’re doing. I want them to succeed.

So this story of the woman who gives it all is handled with restraint. Jesus honors her, without ever getting her name and recording it for future generations of stewardship sermons. And the fact that he honors her is something his own disciples won’t understand.

According to Mark’s Gospel, in a matter of hours, Jesus and the twelve will eating at a house up the hill in Bethany. And another woman will appear, break open a jar of expensive perfumed oil, and pour it on his forehead. It’s expensive. It costs about ten months’ wages – just calculate that. And the twelve men explode! “Why is she wasting this? Why is she releasing it into the air? Why didn’t she sell it and feed the poor?”

Jesus says, “Leave her alone. Get off her case. She has done a beautiful thing.” They don’t get it. That’s because the men in the Gospel of Mark usually don’t understand – but the women do. The women give of themselves generously, without fear or calculation. They give because giving is one of the holiest things we can do.

Ever think about that? We open our hands and we let it go. We offer our very living without any desire to manipulate or control. We give because we were created to give, not to keep. We give because we love. We give because we hope. We give because we are free.

It is an extraordinary story. There is no moral to the story, but there is an example: this selfless woman. And in the example is the invitation: we can be like her. In our generosity, we can be like Jesus.

It’s the story that gathers us around this Table, where we learn through broken bread and blood-red wine that Jesus has given everything to ransom us from the powers of evil. That’s how this Gospel describes what he has done (10:45). He has given his life to set us free. He has totally set us free.

What an extraordinary gift! What are you going to do with it?

(c) William G. Carter. All rights reserved.