Final Offerings -- A Lectionary Reflection
1 Kings 17:8-16
Hebrews 9:24-28
Mark 12:38-44
Final Offerings
For many congregations this is the
Season of Stewardship. It’s a time when churches try to prevail upon members
the importance of giving to the church (and therefore to God). In due course, preachers preach sermons, the
churches send out packets of stewardship materials, making sure that we include
pledge cards (estimate of giving cards), and the folks are invited to bring
their gifts into the storehouse. Whether
we talk about tithing or not, the church wants to see as many people as
possible, give as much as possible, to support the institutional needs of the
church. As a pastor, of course, my own
livelihood depends on these graciously given gifts of money – so I’m
appreciative of every dollar given. Of
course, we broaden the conversation out to include offerings of time and
talent, lest our invitation to give our treasure seem overly crass.
When it comes to these moments of
stewardship we often speak of every gift being equal. No matter how large or small, every gift is
of equal value in the sight of God. That
may be true for God, but what about we humans?
Organizations like the small gifts, but they really like the big
ones. And if you can give big, then you’ll
likely expect to be recognized for your largess. It could be a fellowship hall renamed in your
honor or a nice shiny plaque placed on the communion table so everyone will
know to whom it really belongs. Human
nature being what it is, this is often the case.
Yet, sometimes seemingly small gifts may have the greater
value, or at least that seems to be the case in two of our lectionary
texts. As we read these texts could it
be that God honors the humblest amongst us, especially when they give not their
spare change, but from their entire being?
And is not Christ the exemplar of such an offering?
According to the story told in 1
Kings 17, having told King Ahab of Israel that God would send a drought to
afflict the nation because he had married
Jezebel and then worshiped her gods, Elijah takes off for the Sidonian town
of Zarephath. It’s rather ironic that Elijah flees the wrath of the daughter of
the king of Sidon by heading into Sidon territory, but that is God’s
directive. Then there’s the irony that
he escapes the drought brought on by Israel’s apostasy by seeking help from a
foreigner. Surely God has a sense of
humor! The core of the story emerges as
Elijah encounters a Sidonian woman gathering sticks for a fire. He first asks her for a cup of water and then
for a bit of bread. Now getting the
water was one thing – there was probably a public well to draw from, but bread
was another issue entirely. Apparently she
was down to the last bit of flour and oil, just enough to make a final meal for
herself and her son. You’d think Elijah
would apologize and move on, but with a response that seems a bit presumptuous
he tells the woman to make him a loaf of bread first then for her. Here’s the kicker -- if she does this, Israel’s
God, YHWH, will bless her with a jar of flour that won’t run out as well as
self-refilling bottle of oil. It sounds
great, but what if she gives Elijah her bread and the promised oil and flour
fail to materialize. What if this guy is
a charlatan? I know I’d wonder about
this, especially since he doesn’t seem to be from around her community. Still, she takes the chance. Maybe she figures that she’s going to starve
anyway, so what’s one last meal to forgo in exchange for the hope of something
better. Her response is rewarded and all
eat heartily for many days, the flour and oil never running out. It’s a story of provision, but it’s also a
story of risk-taking faith. How did she
know that YHWH would fulfill this promise – or was she so far down the road
toward starvation and death that it didn’t really matter?
It’s important to remember that the
woman Elijah approaches is, to him, a foreigner. His tribal instincts, instincts we all have
to some degree, should have raised red flags. Why was God having him turn to
her? What could this poor widow provide
him, especially since she hailed from the same people as Elijah’s nemesis – Jezebel? But maybe, just maybe, God is bigger than our
tribal loyalties. And so Elijah and the
Widow form a partnership. She provides
him with bread, and as he receives it, she becomes the beneficiary of an
unlimited supply of flour and oil. But
it means offering up all that she has, and trusting her future to a foreign
God.
There isn’t a poor widow in the
reading from Hebrews. But, there is a
person described as giving of himself with great abandonment. This reading from Hebrews continues the
conversation about Jesus being the great high priest. It’s a reading that, like many in Hebrews,
raises important concerns about replacement theology/supersessionism. Our conversations with the Jewish community
have sensitized many of us to this issue, but the text, though problematic, can
speak to us.
Here Jesus continues in his high
priestly role, entering the holy of Holies, which we’re told is a copy of the
true holy of holies. This one is made
with human hands, the one Jesus enters isn’t.
The point made here is a universalistic one. The Jewish high priests must go into the
sanctuary and offer sacrifices not only for us, but for themselves as
well. They don’t do it just once, but
regularly – because sin continues to reign.
But Christ’s priesthood, which is substantively different from the
hereditary priesthood of Aaron, is a one off offering. It’s a final offering. It doesn’t have to be offered again, because
this time Christ offers himself as that sacrifice that takes away the sins of
the people. That is, in this offering,
Jesus takes the sin and their consequences upon himself. He resolves the issue so that it’s no longer
an issue.
Hebrews poses problems for some of
us not only because of its apparent anti-Jewish subject matter, but also its
seeming embrace of penal substitutionary atonement. Now, I’m not sure the author of Hebrews knew
of Anselm’s or Calvin’s theories, so I’m not sure we should blame this author
for later developments. I know that many
Mainline Protestants have issues with sacrificial language like this. When lifted up at the Lord’s Table it can
make many uncomfortable. Still, we have
this passage. What do we make of
it? Can we not hear in this a word of
encouragement – that God has made provision for us so that we might eagerly
await the coming of this same Christ? Is
this not a message of reconciliation, a message so needed at this moment in
time when community and hope seem far away for so many people? That one would sacrifice all so that all
might find peace, could this not be good news?
The Gospel of Mark takes us back to
conversations about sacrificial widows. This time the focus is the contrast set up
between those who see themselves as righteous and blessed and those whom the
world perceives to be condemned. Whether
we like to admit it or not, we seem to have bought into the idea that is at
times present in wisdom literature that material wealth is a reward for right
living and that poverty is the sign of wrong-doing. If you’re rich you’re blessed; if you’re poor
you’re being judged. But, of course
Jesus turns this upside down.
Our gospel reading begins with a
warning about “legal experts” or religious teachers who know the ins and outs
of divine law. In a word that should
strike clergy with some sense of foreboding,
he warns against those who walk around in long robes and like to be
greeted in synagogue (church) and
marketplace with honor. Do we insist on
being called Reverend? Do we like our
robes of honor? Do we make out like
bandits on the backs of the widows and orphans, cheating them out of house and
home? Do we, does anyone, enjoy the
adulation that comes from their eloquent sharing of prayers? Hearing that such would be judged harshly isn’t
comforting, but that is Jesus’ word.
From this word of warning we move to
the next scene. I’m taken by the
description Mark provides of Jesus sitting across from the Temple’s collection
box, where he observes the crowd coming in and putting their offerings. He’s just sitting there, watching – sort of
like you and I might do at the mall. We
watch the crowd come and go, burdened down by large sacks and packages. In this case it’s the Temple treasury, and
Jesus is bemused by the habits of the rich who come parading in putting in
large sums of money, but money that is a mere portion of their wealth. They can afford it. It doesn’t take away from their ability to
live in large homes, take long trips, and receive the services of their
servants. It’s just spare change to
them. If you have millions, what’s a few
thousand dollars? As he’s observing all
this, he notices a poor widow. She comes
forward and throws in two copper coins – just a penny in value. We often speak of this gift as the widow’s
mite. It’s not enough to buy a cup of
coffee. Surely it’s a meaningless
gesture. But Jesus sees it
differently.
The widow puts in more than the rest
because while they gave out of their largesse, she gave out of her
poverty. She gave everything, everything
she had to live on. Like the widow at Zarephath,
this was the end. Perhaps that was her
intention. She had enough for the day,
but no more -- might as well give it away to the institution. Now in this passage we don’t see the widow’s
mite being miraculously extended so the woman has enough. It seems so final. But surely there is hope, even if we don’t
see it. Whatever the case, do we not
hear a word of warning – be careful how you view the gifts of others. What seems to be of great value may not be as
valuable as we might think. That
includes the gift Jesus offers of his life, whether or not we see him as the
atoning sacrifice. What is the final
offering required of us in response?
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