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?
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.
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