Our lives Are Not Our Own

Season after Pentecost, Year B, Proper 27 (32)
10 November 2024

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

 

The story of the widow who gives all she has is a familiar story. It has long served as a vehicle for stewardship sermons. We should all be like the widow and give generously, like in that old joke before we stopped carrying cash: “Now I want you and your neighbour in the pew to exchange wallets and give like you have always wanted to.”

But that makes the story one dimensional for it recognizes neither the poverty nor the grace of the widow, nor does it pay attention to our privilege and attachment to our possessions.

And if that were the only way we could understand the story we’d be done now.

But there is a larger context to the story. It begins with Jesus’ description of the religious establishment as those who devour widows’ houses.

Important to remember is that caring for widows is at the heart of the proclamation of Israel’s prophets. Because God cares for the widows, we should too. Widows stood for those who were marginalized, socially and economically. And being a widow today is not without its challenges either because when you loose a spouse you loose your companion, your social status changes, and you loose a significant part of your income.

Finally, the widow gives to the temple treasury. Yet only a few verses later Jesus announces the destruction of the temple, which, if read together, suggests that this good woman is giving her all to a lost cause.

On Thursday I brought my camera to the church to take a few pictures in the pollinator garden, in particular of clusters of purple berries on a small bush. I chatted with our gardeners (and later had lunch with them), and as I walked back to the church I admired how the rays of the autumn sun played in the remaining leaves of trees and bushes around the parking lot. And I thought to myself that the world is still as beautiful today as it was before the American election.

It is important to remember the things that remain the same, and that God mercy is new every morning.

Yet the beauty of the world is not everything and at what point does the beauty of the world become cliché, at what point do we forget that beauty cannot be separated from truth and justice, so that beauty does not serve to isolate me from the world, but informs my life. Should the beauty of the world not inspire me to do justice, love kindness, and walk humbly with our God? And does this walking with God not include the care of widows and all who are vulnerable, or the protecting of creation from an insatiable extractive economy that sees razed mountains as beautiful because you can build golf courses on them?

On Wednesday a good friend in Seattle wrote, “VERY depressing day. The American people have spoken. They want the politics and culture of the Confederacy.”

On Thursday evening I spent time with American friends who are terrified of what may lie ahead, and who struggle to understand what this may mean for them. How do you resist an unjust regime, how do you engage in practices of civil disobedience, how do you shelter the vulnerable? Our churches have no experience in this.

Writes one columnist in a piece published on election day, “In a country scarred by Indian wars and by a Civil War fought over slavery, Trump encourages hatred and division among Americans through scapegoating, bigotry,and violent rhetoric.
(…)
Trump has promised to deport 12 million illegal immigrants – a promise which, if carried out, would sow panic and disorder and jeopardize families and communities. He sees the goals of tariffs as eliminating trade deficits with every nation – an effort that would imperil the dollar and wreak havoc in international trade.”¹

It is the above, plus the scapegoating of minorities, the fear of a repeal of Obamacare, the subsequent collapse of health care, uninhibited development without consideration of planet or future generations, and all of this accompanied by the encouragement to follow our lowest instincts that is leading my friends to despair.

Into this comes the widow. While she may be abused by the system, unlike the scribes or those who place large sums in the treasury because they have much more than they need (in Luke 16 Jesus speaks of dishonest wealth), she enters the scene as a truly free person. She is free because she is able to let go of all that she has, and she is free because she is not ashamed of her poverty.

It’s not an easy thing to let go of what we have and believe we earned, which is why letting go of it in the offering constitutes an important part of our worship. And in a society that values wealth and accomplishments, it is not easy not to be ashamed of one’s poverty. I remember being a seminarian and visiting a few churches and realizing concerning one of them that our wardrobe budget did match that of the other congregants. And every time I have been to Whistler I have felt poor. But this woman is not ashamed of who she is and she is able to give all that she has.

It seems to me that the world is changing in ways we did not foresee and do not wish. This is happening not only south of the border but in our own country as well. It is happening in all Western democracies. Compared to my parents’ and grandparents’ generation I have had it easy. Mostly I could assume that politics was to facilitate compromise not victory, that people would mostly tell the truth or try to tell the truth, which included that we often don’t understand all aspects of a matter until we have talked with those directly affected, and that people used to vote for what they believed was good for the country, not just for them. Today politics largely panders not to citizens but to a consumer which politicians have identified as “the middle class”, whoever that may be. And the middle class is targeted not because it is more deserving than those who cannot afford to live in the suburbs, but because the middle class vote decides elections.

And so our life together is not getting easier but harder. We are less inclined to listen or to compromise. We misunderstand democracy as the majority having the right to impose its will on minorities. We think that countries are no longer communities but can be run like corporations without social commitments or neighbourliness.

The widow in the Gospel is a Christ figure. Like Jesus she gives everything. Her life belongs to God. Giving everything is a sign of the Kingdom of God. The times ahead will require greater sacrifice of us, to protect the marginalized, to uphold justice and hold authorities to account, to tell the truth in the face of lies, to protect the earth, and to learn civil disobedience. The church is taking a long time to grasp that our society does not equal Christendom. That is neither good nor bad but understanding this will help us be the church.

The widow is a Christ figure because she gives everything as Jesus gave everything. She knows that her life is not her own but that her life belongs to God.

Too often have we understood the Gospel only as helping us personally, through the forgiveness of sins, through God’s presence in our lives, through adherence to God’s word as if a little bit of Christianity will make us better people.

Tomorrow we remember the fallen of Canada. We also remember innocent victims of war, but the day is designated to remember the fallen and to honour our veterans. They are honoured because they deemed their country and the values it holds to be more important than themselves.

The widow is a Christ figure because she gives everything. However, she knows that she belongs to God before she belongs to any nation state. Throughout the scriptures God refers to Israel and later to the church as God’s people. Paul speaks of the saints, always in the plural. When God refers to us as “my people”, as “God’s people,” it means that our lives are not our own. That, I believe is our way forward in a world in which faithfulness to Christ will increasingly require our sacrifice, not on the altars of nations, but for those whose lives are disregarded and whose voices are not heard, quite possibly within our nation. Those who follow Jesus are called to give our life, to pour it out, for Jesus says, Whoever loses their life for my sake and for the sake of the Gospel, will save it. (Mark 8:35)

We can do so because our life is in God. Our kingdom is for this world but it is not of this world. Alfred Delp, a Jesuit priest murdered by the Nazis just before the end of WW II, said, “In the same way that lies have gone out from people’s hearts, penetrating throughout the world and destroying it, so should – and so will – the truth begin its healing service within our hearts. Light the candles wherever you can, you who have them.”

Amen.