Jesus tells his followers that we shall always have the poor with us (Mk 14:7).  The causes will vary, but the result will be the same.  I suppose we can turn that around, too: we will always have the wealthy with us.  I think we know, very well, that being poor is not a sin.  I think we know, also, that being wealthy is not a sin.  Jesus does say, clearly, that it will be hard for the wealthy to enter the kingdom of heaven (Mt 19:23).  This shocks his followers, who are left bewildered: then, as now, wealth—maybe not fabulous wealth, but a more than enough, comfortable wealth—such wealth was regarded by many as a sign of blessing, of divine favor, even God’s approval.  God has the final say on whether we gain wealth or not—material wealth, what this world considers wealth.  It is God, also, who has the final say on whether we gain that other wealth, true wealth, kingdom wealth: a wealthy spirit.

If any ought to have a wealthy spirit, surely it should be those who have devoted their lives to studying God’s teaching.  Those steeped in Scripture, we might reasonably think, would be rich in God.  Only, today, Jesus points out how many of them are spiritually out of alignment with the God whose teaching they study.  Jesus then points out to us a woman whose spirit is entirely aligned with God: an unlikely woman, whose example still has the capacity to stun us.

Jesus levels many charges against the teachers of the law.  Like the Pharisees, who strove to live in total obedience to God’s Law, the scribes—those teachers of the law—were regarded generally, commonly, as holy ones, observant ones, faithful ones: no higher, better example of what a life of faith looked like.  Jesus condemns them.

What stands out for me this time through is Jesus’ charge of devouring widows’ houses: “They take advantage of widows and rob them of their homes” (12:40).  In May, there was a news item about a famous pastor who had come under scrutiny for asking his supporters to purchase a jet for him, to the tune of $54 million; it would be his fourth jet.  Oh, he had his reasons for wanting—needing—another one.  $54 million is no small sum.  It would take a lot of poor widows to get that much.  The celebrity pastor (a contradiction in terms?) may have some wealthy supporters, but most of his supporters are not wealthy.  Most people do not have vast wealth.  A number have more than they absolutely need, and many of them know, feel, that they can and should do something good with the extra.  What better thing than to support the servants of God?  A beautiful desire, beloved, and one all too ripe for abuse by those convinced of their own worthiness and righteousness.

As a man, I want to be able to say that men are the backbone of the church, but we’re not, I’m a bit ashamed to say.  You can see for yourself that the church is largely supported by women, most of whom are not fabulously wealthy.  As a disciple, I rejoice greatly in the love, faith, and devotion of the women.  You call me to God’s way!  We sang of that way a few minutes ago: “All to Jesus I surrender, All to him I freely give; I will ever love and trust Him, In His presence daily live. // All to Jesus I surrender, Lord I give myself to Thee; fill me with Thy love and power, let Thy blessing fall on me.”

Having condemned the religious elite with whom he had been arguing nearly all his earthly ministry, Jesus now goes to another part of his Father’s house.  He goes to where people were making money gifts.  He sits down and watches.  He is still watching, beloved, every Sunday.  He watches me, and he watches you.  And he notes what he sees.  What was I talking about last Sunday . . . a good conscience?  Pastor and biblical Scholar W. Graham Scroggie puts the matter plainly: “If we give to God only with our hand, it does not count: it is what we give with our heart that He accepts.”[1]  This is not a call to give more.  The church does not run on money.  It is a call to give from the heart, candidly, faithfully, lovingly.  The Church is where the Spirit of the Lord is.  The Church “runs” on the Spirit: the Spirit of truth, love, and faith.

Jesus sees many wealthy people, men, put in a lot of money.  We hear all those coins clinking into the treasury and think, “he must be giving like a thousand dollars!”  Maybe it’s a thousand pennies.  The sad thing for me are those quite comfortable in life who believe, who have convinced themselves, that this ten-dollar gift is generous.  There was a man who, when he began attending church in 1965, started giving three dollars, every week.  He was still giving in 2015: three dollars a week.  Today’s equivalent of $3 in 1965 is $24.  He was giving still, faithfully, giving $3, every week.  When you could give five thousand, but give five hundred; when you could give five hundred, but give fifty, when you could give fifty but give five, by what measure or standard is the gift generous?  Scroggie reminds us that “heaven’s and earth’s standards of value are not the same.”[2]

There is no law about giving.  Giving is not obligatory.  Obligatory giving is a contradiction in terms.  We do not call that giving, we call it taxation.

I want to say to this poor widow: No, no!  Keep that money!  Jesus says that what she gave was “all she had [. . .] all she had to live on” (12:44).  Why would she do that?  How could she do that?  Could I do that?  Could I give all I had to live on?  Devon might have something to say about that.  We are not told how that widow gave.  Was it joyfully?  Reluctantly?  Hastily?  Peacefully?  I have the impression that, above all, she gave without being seen, except for Jesus, who saw.  Why did she give?  Her giving was not obligatory.  No one was going to arrest her for failing to give at the Temple.  No one cared.  No one cared about her or the little she had to give: it wasn’t worth their notice.  Is this where we get the saying about the little things counting?

Jesus notices.  Her minuscule gift was greater.  Others gave from confidence in their wealth—they had plenty left.  She gave from confidence in God: God, who would supply all her need.  “[I]t is what we give with our heart that He accepts.”  We talk about faith in God, confidence in God, but are we ready to put this fully into practice in every dimension of our lives?  Whole-hearted faith?  Oh yes, Lord, I love and trust You, and I’m also going to hold onto the alcohol, because it helps me, dulls my sorrow.  I’m going to hold onto pornography, because it helps me.  I’m going to hold onto sugary, fatty foods, because such food comforts me, feeds my emptiness.  I’m going to hold onto my money, because what would I have, without it?

The Scottish scholar and pastor William Barclay observes: “It is our tragedy that there is so often some part of our lives, some part of our activities, some part of ourselves which we do not give to Christ.  Somehow there is nearly always something we hold back.”[3]  What are you holding back?  What don’t you want to give entirely to God?  Why?  Because then I can’t possess it, nurse it, live for it.  Because then I no longer have supervision over it.  Because then I no longer have that to lean on.  Then all I have is my emptiness.  But what about God’s fullness?

We praise those who gave their all for their country, and rightly so.  We praise those who give their all to their team.  We praise those who give their all to their work, though we wouldn’t want to live that way.  We may praise those who give their all to their family, and then complain privately about her martyr complex.  Do we praise those who give their all to their God, to their church?  There are some very devout people out there, beloved.  You and I have seen them, may even know one or two.  They take their faith seriously . . . maybe a little too seriously—I mean, come on, you know!?

Sacrificial giving seems reckless, unwise, foolish, yet our faith is based upon it.  Sacrificial giving is the foundation of who we are in Jesus Christ.  And sacrificial giving is hard.  We are not hypocrites because we have not yet gone and sold all our possessions, given the money to the poor or the church, and then followed Jesus—we are being perfected, being purified—we aren’t there yet, and we will not get there, completely, in this life.  So, if you just can’t bring yourself to liquidate all your assets and give it all to the church and to the poor, I won’t blame you.  Neither is Christ blaming you.  We have a high priest who understands us.

Jesus is impressed by the widow’s sacrifice, and what most impresses him is the confidence, the trust, the faith and love this poor widow has for God, that would prompt her, enable and empower her, to do what she did: live with radical trust in God who loves her, who promises not fail to take care of her.    What Jesus praises is the entire faith in which this woman lives—faith so great that she is willing to give God all she had with which to purchase a little food to eat that day—give it all to God, trusting God entirely to care for her, support her, provide for her.  Did He?  What do you think happened, after that?  We neither see nor hear from her, after this.  How do you see her story unfolding over the rest of that day, that week?  What does your reason tell you?  What does your experience tell you?  What does your faith tell you?  Which of these three speaks loudest to you?

Now to the One who by the power at work within us is able to do far more abundantly than all we can ask or imagine, to God be glory in the Church and in Christ Jesus to all generations, forever and ever.

                [1] W. Graham Scroggie.  Gospel of Mark.  Study Hour Ser.  Grand Rapids, Mich.: Zondervan, 1976, 228.

                [2] Scroggie, 228.

                [3] William Barclay.  Gospel of Mark.  Daily Study Bible Ser.  Philadelphia: Westminster P, 1975.  303.