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PENTECOST XXIII SERMON
by Pr Fred S. Opalinski

They were just widows, after all...pretty much at the bottom of the social ladder. Widows and orphans were lumped together into a category of "needy ones" which society had to endure, but would much rather be without.

In those days, long before Social Security, pensions, life insurance (and other 'socialist' programs!), widows were most often destitute. Even if husbands were well-off enough to leave them something (that was maybe 2 or 3% of the population), that money would eventually run out. And the means for a widow to make a living honestly were extremely limited. In most circumstances, she would simply be forced to beg.

There was the added stigma of Semitic culture which said that if you were a widow, you probably did something to deserve it. (Please take a look at the fascinating articles about patriarchy in the new "Lutheran" magazine.) To them, if long marriage was a blessing, short-lived unions were likely a curse. Maybe the woman nagged her husband to death! Being a widow was better than never marrying, but not by much, especially if there was the added burden of dependent children.

So the Lord says to the prophet Elijah, "Go to Zarapheth" (in Sidon, a Baal-worshipping region), "and you will find a widow whom I've commanded to feed you." ("Oh great," he must've thought.   "Just what I need!") Making the story all the more interesting was that the trip occurred during a devastating drought and famine caused by Elijah, who hoped to make a point about the effects of worshipping Baal.

You get the picture: The prophet is sent to a miserably poor widow in the worst of economic times, and he demands something to eat.

She tells him that she and her son were one measly meal away from death. All they had was a little flour and oil, and then they're done. Incredibly, Elijah asks for his food first, then they can have what's left, assuring her that God will take care of them. (It's rather like saying, "God bless you" as you empty the tin cup of a blind man.)

But, miracle of miracles, this pagan widow obeys Elijah and trusts in his God enough to do it. She gives him what she's got, and the Lord keeps the flour and oil going until the drought's finished. Amazing indeed that this otherwise invisible mishap from a foreign land is lifted up as a model of faith, generous and trusting beyond reason. And so she is blessed by God.

Her story is paralleled in many ways by the woman in today's gospel reading. The plight of widows hadn't changed much in the centuries between Elijah and Jesus, and that reality maker her offering perhaps even more astounding: it comes freely, without command.

Jesus is in the middle of a discussion/argument about the religious elite who enjoy rank and privilege. They wear long robes, they're greeted with respect and have the best seats at worship. (I'll try not take it personally, Lord!) "They bask in all that pretentious glory--looking so holy--but they take advantage of the widows--the most vulnerable ones," says Jesus.

Then, writes Mark, Jesus goes to the temple and sits right across from the offering chest "to watch how the crowd put money into it." (That's the literal translation: to see the attitude behind the giving.) You heard what he saw! Some put in great sums with great flourish. C a-ching! But this dirt-poor widow came offering the two smallest coins (1/2-cent pieces)--barely a clink-- and Jesus calls it the greatest gift of all. Why? Because it was everything she had!

"All the others contributed from their abundance," explained Jesus, "but she gave from her poverty." Her devotion to God was so profound, her trust so overwhelming, that she "put in all she had to live on." Ca-ching! Ca-ching!!

You do understand that I don't pick the Scripture readings for worship. They are chosen by an ecumenical group years in advance. But I couldn't have hope for a more dazzling duo on this Commitment Sunday! These two women who have so little offer so much in response to God's promises. These 'social nuisances', barely noticed (or outright ignored) by those who 'count' are lifted up as supreme examples of faithful giving.

So we've got this 'treasury' in front of the altar today, wide open for our responses in the midst of an economic "drought" worse than most of us can remember. Some of us are widows and widowers, others are single, still others married. But, however tough our lot, I dare say all of us have far more than these two from Zaraphath and Jerusalem.

So blessed by God, we are called, as they were, to trust in his word and promise, to give not from the leftovers, but from the essence of our being.

I need to say here that, although the amount on your cards is certainly important to the well-being of this congregation, it is the motivation of your giving--what's behind it--that matters to our well-being before God.

The amounts these women gave were a pittance--handful of flour and one red cent--but they represented the sacrifice of all that they were. (They were at 100% on the "Comparison of Giving" chart!) In fact, they prefigured the complete self-giving of Jesus, whose emptying was/is life for the world.

Strange God we've got, huh? Strange rabbi/teacher/Lord as well! He says that emptying makes us full, that we need to lose ourselves to find ourselves, that in giving we receive, and that dying gives us life most abundant.

It doesn't make sense. I'm the first to admit it. The world's wisdom seem right: "Take care of yourself first; save it for a rainy day; tomorrow may be worse; you earned it--you deserve it." There are banks, brokers and mattresses galore to receive the cash.

It's not by sense or reason, but only by faith that the widows are commended, lifted up, emulated. Perhaps it's the case that those who have the least--who know the pain of hunger and truly live from day to day--are more willing to let go. Perhaps they have no choice but to trust in God. (There's nothing else/no one else left!) I read this week that the highest percentage of giving to charity per capita is in the state of Mississippi, certainly not the bastion of national wealth. And I've shared before that Lutherans are just about at the bottom--OK, 2 nd from the bottom--of the churches' giving ranks...average about 2% of their income. What's that mean, I wonder?

This is important, says Jesus, not because of the amount, but as a reflection of faith. Who we are is so completely tied up in what we have--values are so connected to our check books--that hording is an affront to God, while giving glorifies him.

"Truly, I tell you, this poor widow has put in more than all those others who have given great amounts." He doesn't mean that literally, of course. This is one of those examples when the truth goes far beyond fact and figure--deep into the heart of the one who is giving. The Stewardship Committee will tally the numbers and share them with all, but only God can know what's going on inside each of us, what's behind the offering of time, talent, treasure. And, of course, God's judgment is the one that counts.

"Where your treasure is, your heart will be also," declares Jesus. Conventional wisdom tells us the opposite: "Where your heart is, your money will follow." Makes sense, perhaps, but not to our Lord.

"Heart follows treasure," he insists, so that we actually become faithful by giving. Jesus says "follow me!" to the disciples before they know what's going on. They did follow, and their lives were transformed.

"Follow me", he says to us. "Give me all you are, trust me, and you'll see what happens." He calls us to give not until it hurts, but to give until it feels good. "Follow me in my self-giving," says Jesus, "and I promise you, you will come to God."

Amen.

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