The Gift

Proper 27B

Ruth 3:1-5; 4:13-17
Psalm 127
Hebrews 9:24-28
Mark 12:38-44

 

O God, whose blessed Son came into the world that he might destroy the works of the devil and make us children of God and heirs of eternal life: Grant that, having this hope, we may purify ourselves as he is pure; that, when he comes again with power and great glory, we may be made like him in his eternal and glorious kingdom; where he lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.

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I asked our teen confirmands a few weeks ago why Jesus died on the cross. With characteristic candor, one of them responded: "I don't believe that Jesus had to die. We were just too dumb to notice the love that he was trying to teach us, and so we killed him." Today's Gospel lesson might illustrate her point. Let's first put it into a more contemporary setting:

Imagine a huge cathedral, awe-inspiring and magnificent in its architecture, both inside and out. It's stewardship Sunday, and this cathedral congregation is celebrating a successful campaign. Everyone is so focused on their celebration that they don't even notice that Jesus has quietly slipped into the building. He takes a seat up at the High Altar in the ornately-carved Bishop's Chair. He's watching everyone very intently, a concerned look on his face.

Since it is Stewardship Sunday, people are bringing their annual pledges forward to lay them down on the altar, like we do at St. Andrew's.  But instead of bringing them forward in silent prayer, this congregation asks every individual or family to come forward one by one and to shout out the amount of their pledge for all to hear. Now that sounds pretty shocking to us, but that's how it worked at the Temple in Jesus' day.

People brought metal coins to the Temple treasury, and as they threw them into the special recipients, the metal made a loud clanging sound for all to hear. The more coins there were, the louder they rang out as they went in. I'd like the children to help us today, so that we can get a feel for how this ritual might sound in our imaginary cathedral setting. As I mention each group of givers who come forward, I’ll motion for the children and youth to knock loudly on their pews, according to the amount of the gift. The bigger the gift, the louder you knock. OK?

First, the clergy come up to put their offerings on the altar. Jesus notices their costly silk and velvet vestments. They move with ease, giving Jesus a wink as they call out a comfortable sum, their voices firm, as if they think that they are in control of what happens in that place. [loud knocking]

Next, Jesus watches while men in designer suits and women in fur coats come forward, comfortably wrapped in luxury. They call out quite a large sum of money. [louder knocking]

Next, Jesus watches a group of close friends come forward together, each riding high on a cloud of popularity. They live to earn the approval of others, and they pat one another on the back as they each call out the exact same amount. [knocking]

Jesus then watches as the faithful, active members of this cathedral come forward. Jesus watches as they move through the building as easily and as comfortably as they cross their own living rooms. They each call out an honorable sum. [knocking] The gifts continue like this for a while, big gifts making lots of noise [knocking] and smaller gifts not so much. [quiet knocking]

At that moment, the heavy wooden doors of the cathedral swing open, and a young woman and her pre-school-aged daughter slip into the shadows at the back of the building. No one in the congregation even notices the newcomers. No one, that is, except Jesus, who leans forward imperceptibly and waits. Jesus knows and loves this woman—just like Jesus knows and loves all those people trying so desperately to prove their worth to God and one another up at the cathedral altar. Jesus knows that this woman used to live in the neighborhood, until her troubles started.

First, her daughter got sick, and the woman had to miss work to care for her. She missed too many days, and her boss let her go. Then she couldn't pay rent and they were evicted from their home. An old payday loan debt recently sucked away what remained of her possessions. The woman and her daughter used to come to the cathedral food pantry, but some cash went missing after their last visit, and the clergy told her that they would call the police if she ever came back. She didn’t take that money, but she could tell that she didn’t count for anything in their eyes, so she stayed away.

Until today. Quietly, this struggling woman takes a deep breath, gathers her courage, and heads up the aisle toward Jesus and the altar, grasping her daughter tightly by the hand. Reaching into her bag, the woman takes out two crumpled dollar bills and a few food stamps and quickly plops them down on the altar. The little girl looks up at her mother and then at Jesus. She is holding a threadbare and well-loved Teddy bear. Noticing a whimpering baby in the front pew to her right, the little girl steps toward the baby and holds out her bear. "Here," she says, "this will make you feel better." She and her mother smile at the baby, and then at Jesus. Turning, they walk back down the aisle into their grim reality. There has been no knocking on the pews for their quiet offerings. No one but Jesus has even noticed them.

Tears in his eyes, Jesus rises from the bishop's chair. He calls out to this church full of his disciples:

"Look, everyone! Look! Don't you see them? Open your eyes!"

The congregation gapes at Jesus, suddenly aware of his presence among them.

 "All of you have given from your abundance—big, easy gifts," Jesus shouts.

Pointing toward the backs of the woman and her daughter as the heavy church door closes behind them, he cries:

 "This woman and her daughter have laid down their whole life here before you, 

and you didn’t see it.”

Jesus stands, and with his tears now falling freely, he walks resolutely down the cathedral aisle, and out the same door through which the woman and her daughter just passed. He follows the woman down into the shadows cast by the spires of the grand cathedral, hoping perhaps that the cathedral members might someday join him there.

 When Mark’s Jesus left the Temple over two thousand years ago, he too turned toward the shadows, marching resolutely toward the Cross, where he gave his whole life, just like the widow did. He stretched out his arms in love for the whole world, in the costliest gift of them all.

When we stand against the hatred, fear, and violence that deny the God-given dignity of every person, God sees God’s own love reflected in us. When we risk seeing things that we’d rather not see and when we risk following Jesus into places that we’d rather not go, then Jesus sees his own gift in us, too. When we risk being seen, when we risk being rejected for the sake of love, then Jesus recognizes himself in us, his disciples. On earth, those seeking power and control may not notice at first, but I guarantee that all the angels in heaven are knocking loudly on their pews in celebration. [loud knocking]