Often when we read this story from the Gospel of Mark about the
poor widow, it is in the context of stewardship season in the church. Upon
hearing that she gave what little she had into the temple treasury, we are
encouraged to aspire to this level of faithfulness and generosity with our own
sacrificial giving. Or, perhaps we are reminded that it’s not about how much we
give, but rather what our attitude is. There are important lessons here, to be
sure.
And also, I think we miss out when we stop at only one angle or
one interpretation of this story, and really all stories. Because while the
widow in this story may be an example of faithful giving and trust in God’s
provision, she is also the victim of a system that works against her and leaves
her vulnerable with only two small copper coins worth a penny.
Women in Jesus’ time had very few rights, and widows, with no
husband or male relative to speak on their behalf, were particularly
vulnerable. Women couldn’t own property and had few opportunities for work and
education. Time and again the Old Testament prophets mention widows, orphans,
and sojourners in the land as vulnerable people who ought to be provided for by
God’s chosen people.
Clearly in this story, this kind of care for the vulnerable has
been set aside. Instead, the wealthy use their positions of power to further
elevate themselves, making a show of things on the outside so that others might
honor them and give them praise for their perceived holiness or goodness.
Instead of caring for widows, orphans, and sojourners, the scribes here have
“devoured widows’ houses”.
There is a richness and depth that comes in looking at multiple
facets of this story. The same is true for our life together.
Lutherans have a knack for seeing things in grayscale rather than
starkly black and white. Rather than either/or, we are quite fond of both/and.
God’s beloveds are both saint and sinner. Salvation is both already here and
not yet realized. Jesus is both divine and human.
As we come off of midterm elections in a country that is
increasingly polarized, I wonder if part of the reason we are so divided is
because we’ve told people they can only be one thing. Either you seek to help
needy Americans (particularly veterans), or you support refugees and migrants from
other countries. Either you care about your own personal safety and security,
or you care about the safety and security of the wider community. Either you
believe in science, or you’re a Christian. Either you like sports, or you like
art. The list goes on.
These are false choices. These are false choices, and set us up
for opposition and division. You do not have to be only one thing. Instead,
each of us is complex, and diverse, and can support multiple things at once.
Similarly, we’re allowed to grow, learn, and change. Just because we believed
something at one time doesn’t mean that we’re stuck with that belief forever.
Faithfulness to our baptismal calling invites us to embrace
both/and. We support our soldiers and veterans and the sacrifices they’ve made on behalf of
our country and we actively seek that day when war and bloodshed are no more
and peace reigns. We care for all who are vulnerable and needy in our midst,
not because of where they were born or what they “deserve” but because care for
our neighbors (in the broadest sense!) is what God calls us to do.
One of the ways that we work against these false dichotomies is to
get to know our neighbors as individuals rather than stereotypes. It’s easy to
assume things about a person because of where they live, or what their education
level is, or what their job is, or where they worship. But these assumptions
don’t ever encompass the fullness of who someone is.
Most importantly, whether we agree with someone’s views or not, it
serves us well to remember that they, too, are God’s beloved creation. Made in
the image of God, saint and sinner, never too far from God’s reach or God’s
redemption. The worst assumption we can make is that someone is less than us,
or less than human, because of what they believe or where they’re from.
Everyone is worthy of dignity and respect, even when we don’t agree.
Getting back to the Gospel reading, I always wonder what happens
after this very brief scene. Jesus and his disciples are in the Temple, and
somehow know that the poor widow has put into the treasury “all she had to live
on. So what does she do next? Does she go like Hagar to sit and wait to die?
Does she find the spot where all the beggars sit, and join them? Does she ask
someone in the temple to help her?
To the disciples she’s just an object lesson, but I wonder who
really knows her - her family stories, the things she’s good at, the things
that keep her up at night. Is she just a stereotype, or does she get to be a
person with a name, and hopes, dreams, and fears? We don’t know what happened
next, but we can certainly imagine. Might we use this story as a
reminder to notice who in our midst is overlooked, dehumanized, or reduced to a
stereotype?
Whatever assumptions the world makes about us, each of us is
cherished and loved by God. There is space enough for you to be more than just
one thing, and I pray that we can learn this about one another through strengthened
relationships and authentic conversation as we learn and grow together in
community. Amen.
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