Let us pray,
Let the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart be acceptable to you, O Lord, my rock and my redeemer. Let the Holy Spirit fill this place and let your justice and mercy be born through our hope.
Amen.
While it is customary for many preachers to do this, I don’t often pray at the beginning of my sermons. I don’t really have a good reason other than I wasn’t trained to.
But today, I pray, not because I need to call the Holy Spirit into my words, I know she’s here. But because I am afraid. And I can assure you so are the other preachers among us, and that not one of the people on this chancel is envious of me in this pulpit right now. I’m afraid because of how some of you may hear these words and not like what the Holy Spirit is calling me forth to proclaim today from our Gospel and the words of Jesus.
But in the words of Martin Luther, “here I stand, for I can do no other.” And I believe there is hope.
The Church of Scotland, on their preaching website, posted this prompt for preachers on this Gospel lesson: “As Jesus watched the widow putting her last into the Temple treasury I wonder, what were His eyes filled with? Was it an admiration at her faith and trust in God?... Or was it tears at the sheer injustice of it all?”
The injustice of it all, I think.
I imagine Jesus’ eyes filled with tears as this poor woman gives away the last cents she has. Her livelihood, her health, and her means of existing, all on the line.
Typically churches read this text and preach the juxtaposition of generosity of the rich and the poor. But today I want to draw our attention to the injustice of it all.
Widows and orphans are often used in Biblical texts to represent the most vulnerable people in our societal structures. The ones who are poor, have nothing, are weak, cannot defend themselves, are outcasts, living on the margins, and the very people we are supposed to lift up with justice and mercy.
This widow’s last coin story is couched in Jesus calling out the leaders for taking advantage of the vulnerable, saying “devouring their houses”, and after this scene when they leave the Temple, his disciples comment on the grandeur of the Temple and Jesus is like, “yeah the whole thing is going to be destroyed and thrown down.”
So is he really praising her for putting all she has into this? I don’t think so. Thousands of Stewardship Sunday sermons aside, if you read the text closely, Jesus doesn’t praise her, he doesn't say let's all be like her, he simply notices her actions.
Perhaps drawing attention to her because no one else did. As he often does: draws our attention to the most vulnerable in our midst.
I wonder, do we notice these people in our midst? Do we act with mercy and justice for them? Who is the most vulnerable here? Those most likely to be devoured by the empire? Those whose very lives may be on the line?
She's broke, she puts it all on the line, she has no fall back plan, no security awaiting her, she's hoping for a miracle…
But where are we in that room? Are we the rich who have more than enough to spare and the power to wield? Or are we just complacent bystanders? Even noticing her? Or watching her give it all up and doing nothing?
Did we reach out our hand to help her to the box? Did we hand her a sandwich on her way back out? Or did we just throw in our money and go about our business like usual? She’s nothing to us. Her welfare doesn’t matter as long as we can afford what we need and put in our money to make ourselves feel good.
Her status doesn’t matter. Her freedom, agency, autonomy, and civil rights don’t matter, because they don’t affect us.
These are the people in this world that are more dangerous than the rich in their high towers. The ones that sit on the sidelines and think of themselves.
These are the ones responsible for her persecution. These are the ones that did nothing to advocate for her future.
Perhaps a miracle came for her and we just don’t hear about it, or perhaps she starved to death a few days later.
Jesus is drawing our attention to her.
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There are many that sit in the unknown in the wake of Tuesday’s election. Watching, waiting, scared. We put our last coins in the box praying for a miracle. We are on the edge of our seats, wondering: will I be deported, separated from my children? Will I die in the parking lot of an Emergency room? Will I be able to provide health insurance for my child? Will I become the target of violence? Will my family be safe? So that the complacent bystanders can buy what they presume will be cheaper gas.
As I think and remember what our Veterans sacrificed to protect today, the rights of all Americans. But many Americans are getting their rights chipped away.
I imagine Jesus’ tears as he draws our eyes to the vulnerable and the systems of injustice and all we hear is, “aw good for her, she gave everything she had, what a good and faithful servant. Let’s all be like her.”
But that doesn’t quite stand to the words that Jesus routinely shares.
Jesus says “when you did it to the least of these, you did it to me.” (Matt 25:45)
Jesus says “are you envious because I’m generous? the first shall be last and the last shall be first.” (Matt 20:15-16)
Jesus says “love the Lord your God with all your heart and love your neighbor as yourself, there is no commandment greater than these.” (Mark 12:29-31)
Jesus says “Blessed are you who are poor, for yours is the kingdom of God and woe to you who are rich, for you have received your comfort.” (Luke 6:20-24)
Jesus says “if you desire to be complete, go and sell your possessions and give the money to the poor. Then come follow me.” (Matt 19:21)
Jesus says “truly I tell you, the despised are going into the kingdom of God ahead of you.” (Matt 21:31)
Jesus says “do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, but store up treasures in heaven, for where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.” (Matt 6:19-21)
Jesus says, “you cannot serve God and wealth.” (Matt 6:24)
Jesus says “woe to you, for you tithe but have neglected the weightier matters of justice and mercy.” (Matt 23:23)
Jesus says “woe to you for you clean the outside of the cup but the inside is full of greed and self-indulgence.” (Matt 23:25)
Jesus says “in everything do to others as you would have them do to you.” (Matt 7:12)
I could go on… and on…. Most of these are just out of the Gospel of Matthew, I didn’t have time to read all four Gospels this weekend. But I think Jesus makes very clear his position on money… and caring for the vulnerable.
So is Jesus calling the vulnerable to give all they have? Maybe… But I think more likely he is drawing our attention to what we fail to see: the injustice at play.
So on Tuesday, did you vote for the vulnerable or money? Was your heart in your pocket or with your neighbors?
I feel this fiercely.
I spent the week seeking legal counsel to ensure both of my child’s parents are legally recognized and we can provide her with health insurance in the coming years. Myself and others fearing they will need to move for the safety of their children and their own lives.
Some of us will have to sit around a Thanksgiving table in a couple weeks with people we know put money before our family’s security. The bystanders to our intimate injustice. And I imagine this temple scene vividly: where not one person lifts a finger to help her, but rather congratulates themselves on a job well done.
I see Jesus’s eyes full of tears at the scene he is witnessing.
But Jesus is a rebel. He doesn’t stand by and watch this injustice, he incites a rebellion and tears the whole thing down with hope.
In the movie, Rogue One, which I arguably believe is the best Star Wars movie and I have dubbed it: Episode 3.5. When the leaders of the rebellion against the empire are trying to strategize if there is anything they can do to stop the Death Star, which is a spaceship that can destroy entire planets, the main character says something remarkable in the wake of this doom and gloom. She says, “rebellions are built on hope.”
The council denies them anyways, but a small band of rebels go rogue, and fight for that hope anyways.
Jesus went rogue. He didn’t follow the patterns or the playbooks. He didn’t do anything he was supposed to. He built a rogue church on his own death and resurrection. On hope.
He stood up to the empire and said, “I’m going to love the ones you don’t.” And invited us to follow.
So that’s what I invite all of us into. To see the widow, to see the vulnerable and standing on the shoulders of Jesus: band together for hope. We are the hope. Together we can uplift one another. We can make safe spaces. We can protect each other and all of our neighbors. We can stand up to injustice and show mercy to the most vulnerable among us.
The message Jesus gives us in the Gospels calls us to be generous, yes. But it also calls us to take a moment to realize the wealth structure. The power structure that is built into the system. And how this Rebel Jesus rejects this system.
Because Jesus sees us, all of us. Each and every one of us, even if the system doesn’t.
Jesus claims value in the widow. Jesus claims value in the meek, the lowly, Jesus claims value in the outcast, the poor, and the marginalized. Jesus claims us all. Jesus says you are enough and you are worthy.
Adam Grant, who is an organizational psychologist at the Wharton School of Business at the University of Pennsylvania, coined the term: pronoya. Pronoya is the delusional belief that other people are plotting our well-being. The genuine belief that people care about us. This is where I will be, in this hope. In the delusional belief that we as the Body of Christ are plotting the well-being of our neighbors.
That we can see the value that Jesus claims in all people and go rogue against the empire to plot for the well-being of the widow, the most vulnerable among us. After all, the Jesus Rebellion is built on hope. Amen.
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