LEARNING FROM WIDOWS
1 Kings 17:8-16 Psalm 146 Hebrews 9:24-28 Mark 12:38-44
Widows. Orphans and widows, the blind and those bowed down by troubles, the hungry and oppressed, prisoners and strangers – quite a catalog of the outcast; the folks who appear on the shadow side of civilized culture. The psalmist sees, takes note of those for whom “the God of Jacob is their help”; those whose “hope is in the Lord.” Perhaps we too should take note, learn from the widows.
Jesus’ first sermon as recorded in Luke’s story of the good news was, as I recall, about the widow to whom Elijah came – not an Israelite but from Zarephath in Sidon. And, as I also recall, it made the congregation so angry they wanted to kill the preacher.
One of the hardest things we have to learn in life is that not everyone is going to like what we have to say. Not everyone is going to agree with our view of life: its purpose; its challenges and how to handle them; ethics and the relative importance of different aspects of life such as relationships, use of time and energy, effort, and accomplishment. We quickly learn that living together means we will rub against each other’s understanding, expectation, and vision.
The bigger problem arises when we become intolerant of others. We tend to dismiss them because of our differences. The process, often growing out of our own fears and insecurity, is called scapegoating. We blame others, often the most vulnerable and least influential, for our problems. They become symbols of our trials and we gather around the idea that their sacrifice will resolve our problems.
I grew up in an atmosphere of scapegoating. While it was almost never said in direct words, I learned early on that blacks, Hispanics, gays, Communists, Catholics, Asians, the rich, and most folks from the North and East were to blame for whatever ills befell our lives.
Then I began to learn the truth. I will always remember the first time I attended a Black church. The lady who cleaned our house each week had a daughter who was getting married. We were invited – likely as much as a routine opportunity to give a gift without much expectation that we would actually go. But go we did. And I learned a lesson there that has remained with me over the years.
The family and all their friends were poor – poor in a way that “hand-to-mouth” best describes their level of survival. The reception – and I had been to enough weddings to know what a nice reception looked like – was in the fellowship hall/parlor. Bologna, salami, and cheese cut up and served with saltine crackers. Kool-Aid and a homemade cake rounded out the food list. But there was an atmosphere of welcome and joy that pervaded that place like no wedding I had attended. There was no pretension, no attempts to have the most stylish clothes, the cutest decorations, or the liveliest party – just a celebration of possibility, of new hope, of the rites of passage of life.
I have learned that lesson again and again over the years. It is often the weak, the least among us, who offer the most in the way of acceptance, hope, and trust. The cynic would suggest that perhaps trust is out of necessity, a simple resignation to fate. The widow of Zarephath and her son were going to die of starvation whether she fed that last cake to Elijah or not. The widow at the temple had only the two pennies – she was destitute with or without them. But I think there is something much greater at work in lives of the characters of these stories. The widows can teach us.
Mark’s Gospel is a connected story; this incident takes place soon after Jesus and the disciples arrive in Jerusalem having traveled the from the north end of the Sea of Galilee over the last several weeks of readings. Last week, in celebrating All Saints’, we missed the reading where Jesus, teaching in the temple, is challenged to identify the greatest commandment. Jesus’ response was, of course, love: Love of God, love of neighbor; total commitment of heart and soul, mind and strength to the love of God and neighbor.
Divided mind, selfishness, seeking admiration, approval, and acceptance – signs of a life that is seeking. Recall the rich young man of just a few weeks ago. Although he “has it all” in a worldly sense, he feels a hollow place in his heart, an insecurity. But when Jesus prescribes the simple yet difficult task of turning loose of what holds on to him, his wealth, he walks away because his wealth was great. By contrast, when blind Bartimaeus meets Jesus, he is willing to turn loose of his blindness which can be a shelter from responsibility. He trusts Jesus enough to follow him on the way, Mark’s expression for one who commits to being a disciple.
Jesus has brought his “traveling salvation show” to the big time, to Jerusalem. Met with anticipation, his words tend to draw the common people but the religious and political leaders go into high gear seeking a viable means of destroying him without causing riot. They need to make him the scapegoat, to get the masses behind the idea that he is the source of their woes and his destruction will offer hope for a solution.
For the young and perhaps somewhat countrified men, boys really, that follow him, the sights and sounds of Jerusalem and the temple must make quite an impression. But as they sit in the temple and watch the flow of folks through the heart of first century Judaism, he points to the grand dress and showy worship of the Pharisees and scribes, warning against false religion – a religion based on impressing others and gaining their admiration but, in truth, centered on the self, the ego.
The condemnation specifically mentions “those who devour widows’ houses” as if that were a large problem in that day. The few possessions of the weak and vulnerable are always easy prey to those who are tempted to take advantage of others. This speaks to those who use their position as pastor, advisor, confidant, or guardian to their own advantage – and it is condemned in the strongest manner. Then, as if on cue, a poor widow comes to the place where offerings for the temple treasury are made. In an unremarkable and easily overlooked action, she casts in her coins. Unnoticed by almost everyone, she moves on. But Jesus noticed; God saw through the action straight to the heart of this lady. Shema Yisrael; “love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your might.”
Here is the reverse of the rich young man. The poor giving all she had to the rich – not because the temple needed it, not because she had to, not grudgingly (she could have given one and kept one had that been the case). She gives from love, from faith, from hope. And Jesus notices.
Life is complicated. Life is difficult. When we seek wealth, power, admiration, and the acceptance out of a need to elevate ourselves, we are already doomed to disappointment and frustration. What’s worse, others will suffer at our hands. When we can get a right perspective on our gifts and possessions we realize that all we have is as ashes and dust. Wealth collapses, youth fades, knowledge is swallowed up by a changing world, the winds of popularity blow hot and cold. But the love of God endures, his beauty diminishes not, his faithfulness is forever.
“Happy are they who have the God of Jacob for their help! Whose hope is in the LORD their God; Who made heaven and earth, the seas, and all that is in them; who keeps his promise for ever…” Let the widows teach us; let us open our eyes to those who dwell in the shadow of all that is popular: the ones we tend to dismiss, to look past, and to blame. And as we see God in the lives of others, may we learn the lesson of living in faith, hope, and love. Let us “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.”
Amen.
John Dryden Burton
November 8, 2009
St. James’
Eureka Springs, AR