Pentecost 24 B: Surprisingly Good News

Mark 12:38-44

Dear Partner in Preaching,

Sometimes our interpretation of a biblical passage turns on the questions we ask of it. In this case, I want to begin with one central question, not simply for the text, but also for you: How do you hear Jesus’ description of the poor widow’s offering – is it praise or lament? To put it another way: Is Jesus holding up the widow and her offering as an example of great faith and profound stewardship, or is he expressing his remorse that she has given – perhaps feels compelled – to give away the little she has left?

I’ll be honest, for most of my life, I’ve assumed it was the former. But recently I’ve been persuaded that it’s the latter. Here’s why:

  • This passage is part of a larger set of passages that focus on Jesus’ confrontation with the scribes and Pharisees and center on his critique of the Temple. Indeed, ever since Jesus entered Jerusalem triumphantly (in ch. 11), he has done little else except teach in the Temple and debate with the religious leadership there.
  • The first verses of this week’s passage condemn the scribes precisely for “devouring widow’s houses” – shorthand for pretty much everything they own.
  • In the passage immediately after this one, Jesus foretells the destruction of the Temple itself, seemingly the culmination of his attack on the religious establishment of Jerusalem, an attack that has prompted his opponents to seek first his arrest (12:12) and, eventually, death (14:1).
  • Notably, there is actually no word of praise in Jesus’ statement about the widow or any indication that Jesus is lifting her up as an example. All he does is describe what she is doing. Which makes how we imagine his tone of voice – praise or lament – so critical.

All of this leads me to conclude that Jesus isn’t actually lifting her up as an example but rather decrying the circumstances that demand her to make such an offering, a sacrifice that will likely lead to destitution if not death. He is, in short, leveling a devastating critique against Temple practice and those who allow, let alone encourage, this woman to give “all she had to live on” (or, in a more literal translation of the Greek, her whole life!).

All of which, in turn, leads me to a second question. How does this preach? That is, assuming Jesus’ words are ones of lament, what does that say to us today? That we should stand up for those who are most vulnerable? Yes. That we should stand against laws or customs that exploit the poor? Absolutely. That we should enact policies – and vote for politicians that advance such policies – that mirror God’s intention to care always and foremost for “the least of these”? No question. All of which is probably more than enough for a rousing sermon.

Yet allow one more question, one particular near and dear to my Lutheran heart. While all of these concerns are indeed present, in what way is this Gospel? How does this capture, or at least relate to, the good news Jesus both brings and embodies? And how does this connect to our confession that in Jesus’ life, death, and resurrection we behold God’s love for God’s children laid bare?

I ask these questions not actually out of denominational or even theological fealty, but simply because I have little confidence in the law to change our hearts. And most of what I outlined earlier – standing with the oppressed, decrying exploitation, working for better laws – are all matters properly consigned to the law. And, believe me, I think the law is a really, really good thing. We should, indeed, preach the law in its (sometimes called first or civil) role to instruct us how to take care of each other as God desires. This is incredibly important. But while such preaching at its best may inspire us, it does not change us; it does not, that is, give us the power to do what it commands. Only the good news can do that.

So I’ll ask again: how do we preach this story of critique and lament and where do we find in it Gospel? Two things in response. First, holding the widow up as an example of faith and stewardship isn’t exactly the Gospel either, as few of us will even approach such an act. Rather, her example puts to shame all of our meager efforts to be “cheerful givers.”

Second, and far more importantly, I think the good news of this passage comes in what it says about the God we worship, the God we confess Jesus reveals most clearly. Because this God cares about this woman and her sacrifice. This God sees her plight and recognizes her affliction. This God will not countenance such abuse – even and especially under the guise of religious piety – and so decries those who would order their world and religion to make such sacrifices necessary.

God sees her…and God cares about her. Trust me, I doubt anyone else, including the religious elite parading around the Temple that day and dropping in their token offerings, noticed this woman. And I doubt the disciples following Jesus would have noticed her either, had not their Lord lifted her up for their attention and sympathy. Which leads me to conclude that God also sees our struggles, recognizes our challenges, cares about where we are hard pressed to make ends meet.

But even more, I think God is inviting us to look around and see each other, those in our community we know and those we don’t. And I mean really see each other – the pain of those who are discriminated against because of their ethnicity, the desolation of those who cannot find work and have been abandoned to fend for themselves, the despair of those who have given up on finding work and have lost hope, the anguish of those who have been exploited by sex traffickers. God is inviting us to see them, to care for them, and to advocate for a system that does not leave anyone behind.

Which means, Dear Partner, that we might send our people out this week not only aware that God sees their struggles and cares, but also that God believes in them enough to use them to make a difference. We might send them out, that is, looking for where God is already at work and join God’s efforts to see those in distress, help them find comfort and relief, and work for a more just world.

That’s pretty much all I’ve got this week: God cares, and God invites us to care, too. God believes, in other words, that we have something to contribute, that we can make a difference, that our words and actions can help bring more fully to fruition the kingdom God’s own Son proclaimed and embodied. And that even when we fall short, yet the God who raised Jesus from the dead will bring all things in time to a good end.

And that, I think, is news good enough to preach this Sunday…and all the others of this year as well. Please know, Dear Partner, that I am so grateful that you are doing just that. Your words, work, and life matter more than ever.

Yours in Christ,
David