23rd Sunday after Pentecost
November 8, 2009
Mark 12:38-44
Three years ago there was a shocker for American Evangelicals. As you may remember, the pastor of a 14,000 member “mega-church” in Colorado Springs resigned as a result of a sex scandal. It’s not the first time someone in a high-profile religious position has fallen. Much is made of this in the press, and such scandals disgrace all who bear Christ’s name, and that means you and me. They not only allow our enemies to call us hypocrites. Worse, they turn many sincere, searching people away from Christianity. How can the sheep be clean, if the shepherd is dirty?
But believe it or not, there was a silver lining to this cloud. The members of that church had to think through their faith, and figure out whether their trust was in a preacher, or in the One the preacher represents. Were they attracted to a charismatic or energetic or handsome man, or effective leadership, or a great intellect? Or was it Jesus, who according to Scripture, “had no form or majesty that we should look at him, and no beauty that we should desire him”? Was it glory that attracted them? Or was it the one who “was despised and rejected by men; a man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief.” He is “as one from whom men hide their faces he was despised, and we esteemed him not.” That’s the Bible’s picture of Jesus. Is it Him, or something else, that we follow? That’s the challenge those 14,000 people face.
It is a challenge people in Jesus’ day faced. Were they attracted by the glory, the riches of religion? Or something else? Jesus presents us a contrast: a contrast between earthly appearances and heavenly reality.
On the one hand, there was the religion of glory. It had to do with the people called “scribes.” Our culture does not really have a class of people like them. We go in for sports, music, and political celebrities. But those kinds of positions, the places of honor and glory and fame, in Jesus’ day, went to people who were experts in the law and in the traditions of the time. They were the knowledge class, people revered for their brains and intellect, and for their connection to God. And to desire knowledge and wisdom is not a bad thing. The scribes were trained to give you the skinny when it came to what God wanted from you.
The scribes, then, were important and powerful, and people like to hang with the important and powerful. They taught God’s law. So the scribes dressed in the best clothing–after all, they taught God’s law. They took the places of honor at public feasts–after all, they were the most important people of their day. They were sought after. People wanted their attention. Popular, attractive, interesting –they offered the common man a connection with greatness, a connection with significance and meaning, a connection with God.
But there was a problem. The scribes were dependent on the gifts of patrons for their living. And often those patrons were wealthy widows, who were looking for attention. So the scribes preyed on them, even while keeping up a pretense of piety.
Such is the religion of glory. It is a religion of appearances, not of reality. It lives by the law, which judges by what is seen, by outward behavior, and not by inward reality. Its measure is success in the crudest, most earthy sense. You could see it as the rich people dropped their offerings into the treasury box, showing all how philanthropic and generous they were. But it was all outward show, done for the approval of man, and not for God.
And then there was another religion. There was the poor widow, who gave her two coins. Not much of a gift– 1/64 of a day’s labor. But it was all she had, and she gave it out of faith in God and trust in His promise that He would take care of her.
Who is truly religious here? Jesus condemns the scribes, and commends the widow. Her gift is not show; it is the joyful response of one who has received from God and returns what is given. Her religion is not a religion of glory. It is a religion of the cross. There is no “happy end” to this story. God gave her no endless supply of money for her faith, or any earthly reward for her devotion. God took care of her, for that is His promise. What we see of the widow is faith in God, not hope of earthly payback. Her reward was God Himself. Ps. 73 says, “My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever.” This widow knew that.
Now, in our reading there was one person who was poorer than the widow. She had a home to return to, and food in the cupboard. But poorer than her was Jesus, who had no home, no place to lay His head. And what irony! He who made all things, to whom belong the cattle on a thousand hills, gave it all up. He emptied himself, taking the form of a servant, and became obedient, even to death on the cross. All things eventually were taken from him. “Blessed are you who are poor, for yours is the kingdom of God,” Jesus preached. He was the poor, and by dying for us, has won the riches of heaven. In Jesus, God is our reward, our portion.
That brings us back to our lives, and where we look for God and for hope and security. We too see glory, and we are attracted to it. One of the members of that Colorado church thought the church would no longer continue, because “the church was the pastor.” And when his glory fell, what then?
We are affected by this, too. There is a web site where you can read who among the celebrities of our day are Lutheran. And I’ve heard people say, “we need more ‘stars,’ more prominent people among us, to attract others.” What a contrast with say, John the Baptist, who said, “He [Jesus] must increase, but I must decrease.”
Those words are a good template was we look at our faith. When we hear a sermon, does Jesus “increase”? That is, does it all become about Him? Or about something else?
When we work, does Jesus “increase”? That is, do we do our work for Him? Or is it all for money, or self-esteem, or power?
When we are with our families, does Jesus “increase”? That is, do we live with one another recognizing that Jesus lived and died for all of us? Do we forgive as He has forgiven? Or do we live to get others to do what we want to do, and live for pleasure alone?
The answer to these questions, if we are honest, will be mixed. We are God’s children through Holy Baptism, and through faith in Christ Jesus. But we are children whose eyes often catch glimpses of glory, and whose feet often follow false trails. We must come back to it again and again: the true glory, the true riches we possess are the forgiveness of our sins, including our wandering eyes and faltering feet, and the riches of life in the age to come.
We should remember the widow, whose faith was in God alone. And we should remember Jesus, whose poverty secured eternal riches for us. And we should return to him, to true faith, and to the cross. There the costly gift was purchased, and there our salvation was won. Amen