Some years ago Pastor Heidi Neumark attended mass at a Roman Catholic parish in one of the poorest parts of Mexico City.1 The mass was outdoors, and the people were sitting on plastic chairs and wooden benches arranged around the altar. At the time of the offertory, as the guitar band played, people came forward carrying small plastic bags filled with something white. Slowly they poured the contents of their bags into coffee cans placed around the altar. Each person poured only a small amount of raw rice into the cans, but soon the cans were filled to the brim. After mass, the priest told Neumark that every day every family set aside at least one spoonful of rice. As the rice collected this way was then brought to the altar, it became a concrete offering to God from the daily life of the families. No one in the families went hungry, and no family went destitute in offering the rice. The collected cans went mostly to people in houses where there had been illness or death. As the rice provided material sustenance, it also tangibly reminded those who were hurting of both God’s love and the care of their fellow parishioners.
Like today’s Scripture readings, Neumark’s story reminds us that those with little are often among the most generous, and that even small gifts can soon add up to very tangible offerings. The widow of Zarephath, in our Hebrew Bible lesson, was down to her last bit of flour and oil. All she needed for a last meal with her son were a few twigs for a cooking fire. Yet when Elijah promised her that, if she gave the cake she was fixing to him instead, God would abundantly provide for her. Miraculously she agreed, and Elijah’s words were fulfilled. The widow in our reading from the Gospel of Mark was down to her last two lepta, the smallest coin of her day. Even without any explicit promises from Jesus or anyone else, she handed them over to the Temple treasury and went on her way.
Do any of these stories raise questions for you? While applauding the Mexican parishioners’ generosity, Neumark wondered whether the rice bags did anything to change the system of poverty and inequality in that Mexico City neighborhood. After hearing the story of the widow at Zarephath, we might wonder why a Gentile woman chose to believe the impossible promise of an Israelite prophet. Was she at the point where she had nothing to lose? After all, she was only one meal away from certain starvation. Perhaps the holy man knew something that she didn’t? The story of the widow and her offering in the Gospel lesson is even more problematic. Although she is often held up as model, the poor widow is not an example of good stewardship. Jesus merely observes her action. He does not praise it or commend it to the disciples. God understands that we have obligations to ourselves, our families, and our community. God does not expect us to cease providing for those dependent on us. The church’s standard of giving has historically been the tithe, 10% of our resources, scarcely more than the Mexican parishioner’s daily spoonful. Actually we might say that the widow in the gospel story is a negative example, in her giving away more than she should to a temple system that encouraged inequality and did nothing to ease her burden.
But perhaps these widows, and even the Mexican parishioners, are models in a different way. Remember that Jesus’ observations about giving at the temple’s gate are part of his last public discourse before his journey to the cross. He has been reminding his disciples and friends that communities of his followers will not perpetuate the inequality of the society around them, but, rather, will be led by those who are willing to be servants of all. He points to the scribes. As wealthy people who parade their status and piety, they are all that leaders of Christian communities should not be. By contrast, the widow’s offering, ill-advised though it may ultimately be – how will she take care of herself after all – symbolizes what Jesus himself is about to do, i.e., offer himself, all of himself, back to God for the benefit of the whole world.
So there is a challenge for us here, although it’s not what we might think it is. We’re not being challenged to give all our money to the church. For some that might be the right course, for example, for those who join monastic communities and take voluntary vows of poverty. For most of us, such a life is not possible. Which doesn’t mean that we shouldn’t honestly examine our use of our resources, perhaps foregoing our indulgence in the latest gadgets and perhaps finding ways to increase our giving to God, charities, and organizations that work for justice and peace. The real challenge is far deeper. The question that the poor widow – and ultimately Jesus himself – ask us is, how do we offer our very lives to God? In many churches, as the offering basket comes to the altar, instead of the people singing the Doxology, as we do here, the priest says, “All things come of thee, O Lord,” to which the people respond, “And of thine have we given thee.” In Rite I of the Great Thanksgiving, we “offer and present” to God “ourselves, our souls and bodies, to be a reasonable, holy, and living sacrifice.” How do we do that? How do we place not only our dollars in the offering basket, how do we place our whole lives on the altar along with the basket? All things do come from God, and whatever we give, we are only giving God’s gifts back to God. But what does offering our lives to God really mean?
Let me invite you to ponder that question, and let me suggest some ways to answer it. First of all, offering our lives to God really does involve giving back to God, supporting the church and its ministries as generously as you can. Secondly, offering our lives to God means cultivating a generous and open spirit, seeing all those around us as God’s beloved children and staying alert to opportunities for responding to the needs of those whom we encounter. Do you want to begin cultivating such a spirit? Wherever you are, in this sanctuary, in the parish hall, in Bob Evans or Walmart, look at the people around you one by one and say to yourself, “Christ died for thee.”
Third, offering ourselves to God means considering our ministries. We do a splendid job of feeding people here. However, in the wake of the election, we might begin thinking in terms of broader changes that we need to promote, so that fewer people go hungry. Scripture resounds with declarations of God’s care for the poor and marginalized. Listen again to the psalm we all said a few minutes ago: we hope in God “who gives justice to those who are oppressed and food to those who hunger.... [T]he Lord opens the eyes of the blind; the Lord lifts up those who are bowed down.” We may honestly disagree about policy issues, but can we support micro-lending programs to help people start small businesses, community gardens, increases in funding for supplemental nutrition, basic healthcare for all, and a taxation system that doesn’t unduly burden the poor? Can we educate ourselves and increase our skills, so that we can be more effective ministers in both the secular world and the church? Are there orphanages, schools, churches, hospitals, and relief organizations here or overseas that need our resources? I especially commend to you Episcopal Relief and Development, which, right now, has a matching program for any gift made by year’s end. Are there other charitable organizations close to your heart? Have you made provision for charitable giving in your will? If you are retired, on a limited income, are there local organizations to which you can offer your talents? Can you stay informed on the issues by subscribing to magazines, newsletters, or electronic communications? Can you use your social media networks to spread the word about causes dear to you? More important, can you write letters or communicate electronically with your elected officials on important issues? Regardless of your age or station, can you simplify your life, so that there is room in it for God to get a word in edgewise? Can you find time to let God get that word in?
I invite all of us to ponder how we might offer ourselves for the life of the world. I invite you to offer yourself in service to those for whom God cares. I invite you to offer your life for those for whom Jesus died. I invite you to let your life witness to your promise to follow in Jesus’ footsteps.
1. “Reflections on the Lectionary,” Christian Century (129, 22, Oct. 31, 2012), 21.
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