Seeing the Widow

Mark 12:38-44

Truly, my whole life --- including the years I have served as a pastor --- I have heard the story of the widow in Mark's Gospel as a story of sacrificial giving. It is a story about generosity. It is an image of one who gave all that she had.

This drama and my usual understanding of it is especially powerful as it plays out there in the temple with an accompanying backdrop of the scribes 'walking about in their long robes' and garnering the respect and admiration of one and all. Indeed, the contrast is awfully hard to miss as one considers that the more wealthy give so little in comparison to the widow who gives all that she has. It's not hard to see how for generations, this nameless widow has been held up as a positive example of financial giving. And, of course, she is.

And yet, this time around, I find myself moving in a little different direction. For in fact, this time around I find myself also hearing Jesus' earlier words about the scribes where he says, "They devour widows' houses..." Could it be that Jesus points out this particular widow now as a living illustration of what he was just talking about? Could it be that he is pushing his disciples then and now to simply take note of the one who is normally invisible? Could it be that as our attention is drawn to her, we are also made more deeply aware of how the needs of so many like her are too often ignored --- or that, just as was apparently the case so long ago, their need is exploited in such a way that those with more just get more?

Too much of the time like the disciples so long ago, unless it's pointed out to me, I also simply don't see it -- or at least it is so that I do not fully comprehend this contrast and its often accompanying injustice which Jesus speaks of now. Only lately I've come to see it. And it is so that I am not at all proud of the fact that other, certainly no more important things, cloud my vision tooo much of the time.

Here is how it has been where I live.

Five months ago our state legislature passed a budget. Only the governor refused to sign it. Setting the politics of this aside, this has had dire consequences.

Now it is so that except for the years I was away for school, I have lived my entire life in the state of Illinois. This is a state that holds a whole lot of good --- and, yes,  a whole lot of bad. And nothing demonstrates that 'bad' as much as the situation with our state government. It is a seemingly perpetual drama and so I am not proud to say that I have been among those who, until too recently, have not paid a whole lot of attention to the latest crisis. (For an 'outside' perspective on our situation, check out this piece in the New York Times.)

And then a headline in last week's local paper caught my eye. Because we have no state budget, non-profits are not being paid. By now it is catching up with them so that locally, starting this next week, our Meals on Wheels will need to cut services. This means that for the foreseeable future, 225 older, often disabled, adults will not receive a meal on Tuesdays. For some of them it is their only meal of the day. For many of them, it is their only human contact.

I happened to be leading a Bible Study that morning. In our time together we were asked to name out loud our laments. I named this as mine. Others at the table joined me. And pretty soon one offered to call to see what could be done. Before the week was done, in behalf of my congregation, I was able to hand-deliver checks in the amount of $500 to help ensure that the 100 most vulnerable of those Tuesday recipients of noontime meals might still be fed for at least another week. Thankfully, others are mobilizing to do the same.

I am struck, though, at how invisible they have been to me. Honestly, I had no idea that there are so many in our county who are so utterly alone. Indeed, those 100 have no family to check on them at all -- no one to step in and fill the gap left as the result of a stalemate between politicians.

Only here is the truth. Stepping in to be sure that 100 are fed for now does nothing to change things when it comes to the big picture. (Yes, of course, it potentially changes everything for them --- keeping those individuals from going hungry for food and human contact --- and the vital well-check that comes from someone just dropping in.) Only even this doesn't bring them into much clearer focus for me and countless others like me who have little need or call to interact in a regular way with people whose economic circumstances are so very different from my own. More than that, it doesn't change a system which has somehow made them with even their very basic needs expendable.

So here is where I am landing with image of the widow dropping her two last coins into the temple treasury this week.  I still think this is a stewardship story. Only it is pointing us to something much larger than how much I will put in the offering envelope this Sunday or any Sunday to come. Rather, this raises questions about how I steward my whole life as well as the lives of those around me --- near and far. Most especially those I haven't noticed. Indeed, it seems to me that our financial stewardship is meant to be just the start of changing us so that in the name of Jesus we might attempt to change the world. And it all starts by seeing. Especially those it is easy not to see.

So Jesus points her out to his disciples then and now.

May our seeing and understanding change us all.

• How do you hear the story of the widow in today's Gospel? Is this a story about financial giving? Why or why not?
• I can't help but wonder if Jesus were standing next to me today who he would point out now. What do you think? Who might that be?
• What happens when you 'see' or understand something for the first time. How are you changed? What happens next?

The Widow's All

Mark 12:38-44

I spent an hour last week sitting at the foot of the bed of one of our own.  Frieda was then in her last days, having lived 94 years.

She was surrounded that afternoon by two sons, a grand-daughter, two great-grand-daughters, and an old friend. Not to mention the occasional 'accidental' visitors who also reside in the Alzheimer's wing of our local county nursing home.

The hours get long when one is keeping vigil and it helped to pass the time that day by singing.  At first the youngest among us were invited to choose the songs.  We shared in a rousing rendition of "Row, Row, Row Your Boat" and "Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star.'' Soon the tone gentled some as we joined in "You are My Sunshine."  Then one of Frieda's sons ventured down to the activity room and returned with half a dozen large print song books and soon we were joining in on all those old favorite hymns.  "Amazing Grace."  "My Hope is Built on Nothing Less." "Nearer My God to Thee."  "What a Friend We Have in Jesus."  There was only one truly gifted singer among us, but it didn't much matter, for the sound of our faltering voices seemed to soothe Frieda.  I think it did the rest of us, too.  More than that it helped give shape and meaning to the afternoon.  I expect it was an hour none of us will soon forget.

I think there cannot be a more 'impoverished person' than what Frieda was by then.  At least by many of this world's standards.  For some time now she has not been able to tend to her most basic needs.  By last Friday afternoon she was beyond eating, beyond communicating, beyond even opening her eyes.  And yet, as we sang, her breathing slowed some.  And from time to time, when nothing else was true in those last days, Frieda would move her head in the direction of the sound of our voices. 

It was all she had left, and yet she gave it.  And somehow even that small movement brought comfort to all those who loved her.

I know nothing of what it means to be Frieda or anyone like her in their last days, utterly dependent on the care of others.  In like manner, I know nothing of what it would have been to be the widow in today's Gospel lesson.  Without voice, without legal standing, without resources, without anything at all that I so take for granted... Indeed I imagine the widow in our story now was invisible to most in the Temple that afternoon --- it is a wonder Jesus took note of her at all for most of us, much of the time, overlook those like her, our eyes drawn instead to the attention getting robes of the powerful. 

And yet, of course, again today, we have Jesus noticing what the rest of us would probably otherwise miss altogether.  Drawing the focus to one others might not see at all and in a few words offering an unforgettable example of faithfulness.

Perhaps it is because this story usually falls in the preaching cycle at this time of the year when our attention is turned to financial stewardship for next year's budget --- that we hear this story and think first of the widow's extraordinary generosity --- and of course, she was generous.  It seems important though to take a step back and look at the whole picture and to wonder if there are other lessons this unexpected example might just offer.

Is she a reminder to pay attention to those we might normally ignore --- to pause long enough to hear the stories behind the most obvious one?  Don't you just wish Jesus had stopped her and asked her where she lived, what routines made up her every day, how long since her husband died, or what finally compelled her to come and give away her last bit of money that day.

Is this story a reminder to all of us of what really matters in this world?  That it's not the size of the gift that matters, but the manner in which it is given?

Is this poor widow a model for all of us of what it is to be utterly dependent?  Oh, I expect this is a position not a one of us would envy but that all of us are called to as we live in our relationship with God.

I think back on last Friday afternoon in the nursing home and the sound of those voices.  I know most of the world would not have paused to notice one such as Frieda whose breathing was slowing --- nor her family who were already grieving one who had loved them so well.  It was the love of her grand-daughter sitting closest to her which noticed that the music seemed to help her some. Still, these were gifts given with the whole hearts of those gathered that day.  And Frieda, too, gave all she had in return, even if it was something as slight as the turn of her head.  By any measure this world offers it was not much at all.  But, for those of us gathered around her bed that afternoon, it was everything for even that small movement was a sign of love --- and it was all she had.

It was all there was --- just as it was all there was for the widow Jesus points to in the Temple now.  No, I expect, God doesn't only expect our generosity.  If Jesus' teaching today is any indication, God expects our all.

• What do you think Jesus is trying to teach in his using the widow's gift in his teaching today?
• Can you think of examples when someone has given their 'all?'  What did that look like? What does 'giving your all' look like for you?
• Do you think this is a fitting example for a 'stewardship sermon?'  Why or why not?