Sunday, November 10, 2024
First Congregational Church of Cheshire
© the Rev. Dr. James Campbell
Mark 12:38-44
As he taught, he said, “Beware of the scribes, who like to walk around in long robes, and to be greeted with respect in the marketplaces, and to have the best seats in the synagogues and places of honor at banquets! They devour widows’ houses and for the sake of appearance say long prayers. They will receive the greater condemnation.”
He sat down opposite the treasury, and watched the crowd putting money into the treasury. Many rich people put in large sums. A poor widow came and put in two small copper coins, which are worth a penny. Then he called his disciples and said to them, “Truly I tell you, this poor widow has put in more than all those who are contributing to the treasury. For all of them have contributed out of their abundance; but she out of her poverty has put in everything she had, all she had to live on.”
Do you ever wonder how you got to be as old as you are? Boy, I sure do. And on those days when I forget or pretend like it isn’t true, my body has a way of reminding me. I have a knee that acts up and a hip that can be wonky. My eyes aren’t what they used to be and I have a slight hearing loss in my left ear. I often get tired in the afternoon and sometime need a nap before an evening meeting. And all those delicious Doritos that I have eaten for years now cause small infernos in my stomach.
But perhaps the oddest of all of my age-related bodily changes is that… I have become invisible. Yes, I know you can see me now, but there are plenty of days when I am convinced, based on real-world experience, that I could pass through a room and set it on fire… and no one would notice.
This seems to be especially true in restaurants. I walk in, but can wait and wait and wait for someone to see me and take me to a table or to bring me a menu or glass of water. And I have walked out of more than one restaurant, never to return, because I was not seen.
Now, that might seem rather petty to you, until you stop to realize that being seen is really about having your humanity recognized. To be seen is to be valued and validated.
Political campaigns are largely about appealing to people’s need to be seen, and thus to be understood. We want our leaders to really see us for who we are: people of color and white folks, male and female and non-binary. Rich and poor. Liberal and Conservative. Gay and straight. Cisgender and transgender. Believers or not. And if we think that our leaders actually see us, and thus understand us, well, then, they will get our vote.
If ever there was a person who needed to be seen, it is the main character of our story today. This woman was invisible for all sorts of reasons – primarily because she was a woman in a male-dominated society. And so, she didn’t count that much. And she was invisible because she was a widow, which is another side effect of that male-dominated society. She didn’t have a man to hook her identity to. And she was invisible because she was poor. Poor folks have always been invisible, which is perhaps why Jesus and all the prophets talked about them so much.
We don’t know her name, which only adds to her invisibility. But one day, she suddenly became visible because a man named Jesus saw her. I mean, he really saw her, understood her, got her. And because he did, her story is one of the best known of the New Testament.
The setting was the great Temple of Jerusalem. The time was Holy Week, just days before Jesus would be executed by the Empire. And Jesus and his disciples were people watching – one of my favorite things. They were sitting in the Court of the Women, which was so called because it was as far as any woman could actually go in the male-dominated Temple complex. The Court of the Women was also the location of the Treasury, where people came to pay their pledges. How genius was that - making sure the women could pay too?
In the Treasury there were these large money receptacles, with trumpet-shaped openings, large at the top and getting narrower as they went down, funneling the money into a container. Remember that money was all coins back then, so when people gave, it was metal against metal. The more you poured, the louder the racket. In addition, you made your own racket, because everyone had to announce what they were giving before they dropped it in. Can you imagine?! So, for example, a man in fine robes, from a good family, might call out “5000 denarii” and then pour all those clanging coins into the treasury. How very non-New England.
In line with all the rich folks that day, there was a poor widow, who approached the money box and called out, “2 Leptas.” And eyes rolled and tongues clucked and giggles abounded. Two Leptas wasn’t even one penny. So, what she gave was quite literally a drop in the bucket. But it was a noise heard round the world and it got Jesus’s attention. And he called his disciples together and said: “Truly I tell you, this poor widow has put in more than all those who are contributing to the treasury. For all of them have contributed out of their abundance; but she out of her poverty has put in everything she had, all she had to live on."
The Greek word translated as “poor” really means “the poorest of the poor.” And so, when Jesus said that this was all she had to live on, he really meant it. These were her last two cents. Maybe after this, she just went home and died from starvation. After all, it happened to widows in the ancient world sometimes.
Now I have heard at least two dozen sermons on this passage, most of them about stewardship. And at first blush, that seems to be the way to go with this story. Preachers say things like: “Be like the widow and give sacrificially.” “Be like the widow and God will provide.”
Well, the widow did give sacrificially, but in a way that none of us can really identify with. Who here has given away everything you have? So, that’s a little problematic for a stewardship theme. And as for God providing and giving this story a happy ending, well, maybe. But that’s really an argument from silence. Jesus doesn’t say that. And the righteous suffer all the time. And besides, is that really the point?
So, what is the point, then? Well, some scholars say that Jesus’s statement here was essentially a lament for the way the poor were treated in his time. Others say that Jesus’s statement was a prophetic judgment over a system that allowed someone to get down to their last two cents.
So, maybe it was a lament. Or maybe it was judgment. Or maybe stewardship really was the point. But there is another point, so obvious that it gets overlooked.
This woman was a nobody. She passed through the streets as invisible as a ghost. And if she went home to die of hunger, who would notice? But Jesus… he really saw her. And it might have been the first time in her life that anyone with any authority or agency had ever taken notice of her. And because Jesus took the time to see her, here we are 2000 years later, in Cheshire, Connecticut, talking about her and thinking about her and giving her the kind of dignity, she never had when she was alive.
Because to be seen makes all the difference in the world.
In this week of winners and losers, some folks are feeling seen and validated and understood. But others have never felt so invisible. And some of them are sitting beside you in the pew. Or living in the house next door. Or standing with you in line at Dunkin Donuts. And all they want is to be seen.
Today, in churches all over America, people wonder: “So, where do we go from here? How do we continue to be the church in such a divided and angry time?”
Well, that’s the kind of time Jesus lived in too - divided and angry. So maybe we should simply do what he did, and people watch. Maybe we should practice the discipline of eyes wide open in a world of selective sight.
That’s the thing about truly opening your eyes: it will move us beyond the academic and the noises of the talking heads and the fear mongering meant to control and divided us. And we will see… those on the margins. We will see the scapegoated. We will see those who are genuinely afraid. We will see the poor and the immigrant and the orphan and the widow and the prisoner and the hungry and the lonely and the sad.
And if see them – I mean really see them - then this congregation will know exactly where to go from here.
First Congregational Church of Cheshire
© the Rev. Dr. James Campbell
Mark 12:38-44
As he taught, he said, “Beware of the scribes, who like to walk around in long robes, and to be greeted with respect in the marketplaces, and to have the best seats in the synagogues and places of honor at banquets! They devour widows’ houses and for the sake of appearance say long prayers. They will receive the greater condemnation.”
He sat down opposite the treasury, and watched the crowd putting money into the treasury. Many rich people put in large sums. A poor widow came and put in two small copper coins, which are worth a penny. Then he called his disciples and said to them, “Truly I tell you, this poor widow has put in more than all those who are contributing to the treasury. For all of them have contributed out of their abundance; but she out of her poverty has put in everything she had, all she had to live on.”
Do you ever wonder how you got to be as old as you are? Boy, I sure do. And on those days when I forget or pretend like it isn’t true, my body has a way of reminding me. I have a knee that acts up and a hip that can be wonky. My eyes aren’t what they used to be and I have a slight hearing loss in my left ear. I often get tired in the afternoon and sometime need a nap before an evening meeting. And all those delicious Doritos that I have eaten for years now cause small infernos in my stomach.
But perhaps the oddest of all of my age-related bodily changes is that… I have become invisible. Yes, I know you can see me now, but there are plenty of days when I am convinced, based on real-world experience, that I could pass through a room and set it on fire… and no one would notice.
This seems to be especially true in restaurants. I walk in, but can wait and wait and wait for someone to see me and take me to a table or to bring me a menu or glass of water. And I have walked out of more than one restaurant, never to return, because I was not seen.
Now, that might seem rather petty to you, until you stop to realize that being seen is really about having your humanity recognized. To be seen is to be valued and validated.
Political campaigns are largely about appealing to people’s need to be seen, and thus to be understood. We want our leaders to really see us for who we are: people of color and white folks, male and female and non-binary. Rich and poor. Liberal and Conservative. Gay and straight. Cisgender and transgender. Believers or not. And if we think that our leaders actually see us, and thus understand us, well, then, they will get our vote.
If ever there was a person who needed to be seen, it is the main character of our story today. This woman was invisible for all sorts of reasons – primarily because she was a woman in a male-dominated society. And so, she didn’t count that much. And she was invisible because she was a widow, which is another side effect of that male-dominated society. She didn’t have a man to hook her identity to. And she was invisible because she was poor. Poor folks have always been invisible, which is perhaps why Jesus and all the prophets talked about them so much.
We don’t know her name, which only adds to her invisibility. But one day, she suddenly became visible because a man named Jesus saw her. I mean, he really saw her, understood her, got her. And because he did, her story is one of the best known of the New Testament.
The setting was the great Temple of Jerusalem. The time was Holy Week, just days before Jesus would be executed by the Empire. And Jesus and his disciples were people watching – one of my favorite things. They were sitting in the Court of the Women, which was so called because it was as far as any woman could actually go in the male-dominated Temple complex. The Court of the Women was also the location of the Treasury, where people came to pay their pledges. How genius was that - making sure the women could pay too?
In the Treasury there were these large money receptacles, with trumpet-shaped openings, large at the top and getting narrower as they went down, funneling the money into a container. Remember that money was all coins back then, so when people gave, it was metal against metal. The more you poured, the louder the racket. In addition, you made your own racket, because everyone had to announce what they were giving before they dropped it in. Can you imagine?! So, for example, a man in fine robes, from a good family, might call out “5000 denarii” and then pour all those clanging coins into the treasury. How very non-New England.
In line with all the rich folks that day, there was a poor widow, who approached the money box and called out, “2 Leptas.” And eyes rolled and tongues clucked and giggles abounded. Two Leptas wasn’t even one penny. So, what she gave was quite literally a drop in the bucket. But it was a noise heard round the world and it got Jesus’s attention. And he called his disciples together and said: “Truly I tell you, this poor widow has put in more than all those who are contributing to the treasury. For all of them have contributed out of their abundance; but she out of her poverty has put in everything she had, all she had to live on."
The Greek word translated as “poor” really means “the poorest of the poor.” And so, when Jesus said that this was all she had to live on, he really meant it. These were her last two cents. Maybe after this, she just went home and died from starvation. After all, it happened to widows in the ancient world sometimes.
Now I have heard at least two dozen sermons on this passage, most of them about stewardship. And at first blush, that seems to be the way to go with this story. Preachers say things like: “Be like the widow and give sacrificially.” “Be like the widow and God will provide.”
Well, the widow did give sacrificially, but in a way that none of us can really identify with. Who here has given away everything you have? So, that’s a little problematic for a stewardship theme. And as for God providing and giving this story a happy ending, well, maybe. But that’s really an argument from silence. Jesus doesn’t say that. And the righteous suffer all the time. And besides, is that really the point?
So, what is the point, then? Well, some scholars say that Jesus’s statement here was essentially a lament for the way the poor were treated in his time. Others say that Jesus’s statement was a prophetic judgment over a system that allowed someone to get down to their last two cents.
So, maybe it was a lament. Or maybe it was judgment. Or maybe stewardship really was the point. But there is another point, so obvious that it gets overlooked.
This woman was a nobody. She passed through the streets as invisible as a ghost. And if she went home to die of hunger, who would notice? But Jesus… he really saw her. And it might have been the first time in her life that anyone with any authority or agency had ever taken notice of her. And because Jesus took the time to see her, here we are 2000 years later, in Cheshire, Connecticut, talking about her and thinking about her and giving her the kind of dignity, she never had when she was alive.
Because to be seen makes all the difference in the world.
In this week of winners and losers, some folks are feeling seen and validated and understood. But others have never felt so invisible. And some of them are sitting beside you in the pew. Or living in the house next door. Or standing with you in line at Dunkin Donuts. And all they want is to be seen.
Today, in churches all over America, people wonder: “So, where do we go from here? How do we continue to be the church in such a divided and angry time?”
Well, that’s the kind of time Jesus lived in too - divided and angry. So maybe we should simply do what he did, and people watch. Maybe we should practice the discipline of eyes wide open in a world of selective sight.
That’s the thing about truly opening your eyes: it will move us beyond the academic and the noises of the talking heads and the fear mongering meant to control and divided us. And we will see… those on the margins. We will see the scapegoated. We will see those who are genuinely afraid. We will see the poor and the immigrant and the orphan and the widow and the prisoner and the hungry and the lonely and the sad.
And if see them – I mean really see them - then this congregation will know exactly where to go from here.
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