How did it end?

Proper 27 B 2009
(Ruth 3: 1-5, 4…; Ps 127; Heb 9: 24-28;Mark 12: 38-44)


Some things work out perfectly. The Fall pledge mailing went out Friday, and look what we have here today—that lovely story about the poor woman and her gift of two copper coins!

Like many Gospel stories, we may think we know what this story is all about. That is always dangerous, because there is always something new for us in the Gospel. The lady who gave the small coins is often used as a morality play, an object lesson for generous giving. That’s fine. But there’s something I’ve always resented about this story. What I resent is this—we don’t hear what happened next.

Those folks who poured in big donations, those wealthy philanthropists—hey, big donations are always fun, that’s how new buildings and new projects are funded. But the Gospel is not primarily about fund-raising—the Gospel is about change and transformation. The wealthy folks went home, and I suspect nothing changed. They had an image of themselves as generous people, and that was confirmed. They had been proved in public as generous people. Their lifestyles were unchanged. Their self-images as devout and giving people were…unchanged. If what they wanted was to stay unchanged, then they got a good deal that day.

I have always wanted to know what happened to that poor widow when she got home. It is easy to romanticize this story and her sacrificial giving, and not ask what happened the same night, the next day. How did she live? Did she eat?

Generosity and sacrifice does not always have an immediate payback, the kind we want and expect. But maybe—maybe the woman’s poverty moved someone else, maybe a neighbor, to generosity in turn. Maybe her hunger was an invitation for someone to reach out to her. Random acts of giving have ripple effects, paybacks that we cannot anticipate.

And the woman, and those near her, had the chance to change, to be transformed. The devout members of the people of Israel sometimes called themselves the “anawim”, the poor of God. Sometimes spiritual poverty is just a cliché, a symbol without power. No one could say that the widow’s poverty was just a symbol, that it was without startling power.

The Gospel is a school of practice and of change. Mark Scandrette, teacher in the Emerging church movement, calls a authentic church setting a “Jesus dojo”, borrowing the word for a martial arts practice hall. The dojo only does you good if you show up, if you practice, and if you seek to grow and improve. In a talk entitled “The Five Myths Of Community,” Mark says that one of the myths is that of the “healthy skeptic.” “I used to be this guy,” says Mark. “I didn’t think the local church was ever doing the right thing really, so instead of giving money to my church I gave it for starving children in Africa. And I was always sidling up to the leadership and say, ‘You know, I’m reading this really cool book and I think you should read it too. And I think you should do…’ I was always on the fringe.” He stops, chuckles, and says, “I wasn’t right. I was messed up.”

The Jesus Way, says Mark, the Jesus dojo, is not about endless complaining, but it is a collective. Pitch in, and you will live the life. It is grace-filled and forgiving. Don’t moan about your past journey or the community’s past—instead give thanks. “Make a serious commitment to your present tribe” says Mark. And it’s not cool to suggest that the tribe do something that you yourself are not willing to do. Be direct, be involved, be here now.

Give in a different way. As we do this canvass, how can our giving change us? How can we see what we do with our money to be part of our following the Jesus Way? How can this customary process of talking about goals and money be different, be something that changes us all? And what will we be like the day after, once we’ve gone home?