november 8, 2009

Anna Blaedel
First UMC, Osage
November 8, 2009
Ruth 3:1-5; 4:13-17
Mark 12:38-44

As Jesus taught, he said, “Beware of the scribes, who like to walk around in long robes, and to be greeted with respect in the marketplaces, and to have the best seats in the sanctuary and places of honor at banquets! They devour widows’ houses and for the sake of appearance say long prayers. They will receive the greater condemnation.”

Jesus sat down opposite the treasury, and watched the crowd putting money into the treasury. Many rich people put in large sums. A poor widow came and put in two small copper coins, which are worth a penny. Then he called his disciples and said to them, “Truly I tell you, this poor widow has put in more than all those who are contributing to the treasury. For all of them have contributed out of their abundance; but she out of her poverty has put in everything she had, all she had to live on.”
The themes from Ruth and Mark are clear: extravagant generosity; risking it all for faith; caring for the collective community, and trusting any just, faithful community to care right back; righteous living, which means trusting God to meet you in the mess, when everything is unknown. Both of this morning’s stories from scripture are messy ones, stories that disrupt our ways of life. They are the kind of stories that makes waves, create ripples that spread, permeating and changing everything.

In the scripture from Ruth, we have scandal, and sex, and secrets and deception. And this, this, context, gives birth to David—the holy family—Jesus. It seems even the biblical family tree—like every family tree—has its twists and turns and stories that are repeated in hushed whispers, histories carefully kept out of public views, relationships formed and babies birthed in less than ideal circumstances. And yet, God is still there, working in and through the messy, scandalous lives of flailing, faithful people.

And, in Mark. In Mark’s gospel we are held to an ideal of generosity few if any of us can attain. The bar is set high. So high that even the most literal of scripture readers starts immediately making compromises with the text, and it’s clear mandate. But I’m getting ahead of myself.

It is important to remember a few things about the roll generosity and giving play in all three Abrahamic religions—Christianity, Judaism, and Islam.

Within Jewish tradition, there is the obligation of performing tzedakah—giving up 10% of one’s income. Tzedakah—practicing righteousness, or justice for those in need. The practice of tzedakah teaches the faithful to strive for God’s justice through generous giving.

Within Islamic tradition, one of the five pillars forming the foundation of faithful living—along with prayer, fasting, professing faith in one God, and making a pilgrimage—is zakat. Zakat—giving to charity—the sacred duty of those with means to help the poor. Zakat—practicing righteousness, striving for God’s justice through generous giving.

And, within Christian tradition, the tithe—a holy obligation, a biblical mandate, giving 10% of one’s income. Tithe—a sign of loving one’s neighbor, and caring for the least of these, and in doing so, generously caring for Jesus.

Tzedakah. Zakat. Tithe. Righteousness. The power to give life, a sign of our intent to share the life and generosity divinely shared with us.

This week a retired UM pastor in Iowa shared his wrestling with the gospel story from Mark. He keeps up with the lectionary readings, and is faithful to biblical study and the practice of exegesis—searching scripture and lifting out the meaning, the truth, residing in the holy words. Even though he no longer prepares a weekly sermon, even though he no longer steps into a pulpit on Sunday. It is worth remembering, of course, that the practice of wrestling with a scripture text, or studying it for meaning and truth and then applying it to life today, this is a task of all the faithful, not just preachers and pastors.

So. He re-read this familiar story of the poor widow who gave everything she had. Not 2%, not 10%, but 100%—all she had, we are told. And this retired pastor was a little bit peeved. He had received a pledge card in the mail from his worshipping community, and was sitting at the local diner to contemplate the challenge to step up his giving.

He had every reason not to—not to take a risk or give too generously. Neither the Board of Pensions nor Social Security would be giving him a raise. Everyone knows the state of the economy, everyone knows how difficult it is to find and afford quality health care. This is the perfect time to be cautious, is it not?

This pastor understood the importance of stewardship, but was still a bit put off by the church’s audacity to ask for more. Put off by the challenge made by the congregation challenging everyone—everyone in the congregation from oldest to youngest, richest to poorest, newest member to most tenured faithful, to pledge a ¼ tithe, or 2.5%. He grumbled his way through lunch. That darn scripture, he kept thinking. That darn widow. He just couldn’t get her out of his head, or perhaps, out of his heart.
He kept grumbling. The waitress, his favorite, familiar waitress, kept his coffee cup filled, and he lingered. Finally, noticing the diner was filling up, but grateful his waitress hadn’t rushed him, had offered him the space he needed, he asked for his bill and got out his wallet. He paid—the $7 plus change, and left a generous tip—$3. More than his usual 20%, but the waitress had been patient, attended to his needs personally and with kindness.

Collecting his bible, journal, and pledge card from the booth, he realized what he had done. Giving almost 50% to the waitress. A generous step up from a standard of 20%. Out of gratitude. And, he resisted pledging 2.5% to the church. The church that raised him, nurtured his faith, blessed his marriage, baptized his children, fed his soul, gave his life meaning, invited him into relationship with a risen savior, with an ever-loving, ever-present God, formed his values, renewed his belief. 20% to the waitress. 50% on a good day. The church, he decided, was worth 2.5%. A least. After all, that darn widow hadn’t stopped at 2.5%. or 10%. or 50%. She gave everything she had. Everything. Trusting that her act of generosity—risky, extravagant, perhaps even foolish generosity—would be matched by God’s care for her, and the community’s care surrounding her. Why not tip the church, the slightly chagrinned pastor though. The service has been excellent, the food good, the ambiance inviting, the folks caring and hospitable.

Zakat. Tzedakah. Tithe. Righteous living, generous giving. Justice for those in need. Fulfilling a sacred duty to help others. A sign of loving one’s neighbor, and caring for the least of these, and investing in beloved community.
As members of The United Methodist Church, we have pledged to God and to each other to give generously of our prayers, our presence, our gifts, our service, and our witness. Stewardship doesn’t stop with money.
What if we took the obligation of tithing seriously?

Tithing our prayers—spending 10% of the day—2 ½ hours each day in prayer?
Tithing our presence—about 16 hours in church each week.
Tithing our service—about 16 hours of service each week for the community, and those in need.
Tithing our gifts—10% of our income. If you make $30,000 a year, that means about $57 a week, or $250 a month.
And, as high as that bar is set, it’s already scrimping, compared to the widow, this darn widow, who Jesus lifts up as an example of faithful living and giving.

So, already scrimping, what if we each pledged ¼ tithe? 2.5% of our prayers, presence, gifts, service, and witness? Spending 40 minutes in prayer each day. Coming to church on Sunday morning, every Sunday morning, and at least one other time during the week? Pledging 2.5% to the church.

If you make $15,000 a year, that’s $8 a week. About $30 a month.
$30,000 a year, $15 a week. $60 a month.
$50,000 a year, $25 a week. $100 a month.
$80,000 a year, $40 a week. $170 a month.

For many, less than monthly cable, or internet. For most, more than we already give. For most, more than we are comfortable with. More than we can give without noticing. And still, so much less than that darn widow, who dropped two copper coins into the collection, giving everything she had—out of faith, without fan fare or glory.

Jesus warning rang loud in the ears of that retired pastor, until he stopped resisting, and started listening.

Hear, again, the words from Mark, as found in The Message Bible. “Jesus continued teaching. “Watch out for folks who call themselves religious, and the people who loudly proclaim their faith. They love to walk around preening in the radiance of public flattery, basking in prominent positions, sitting at the head table at every church function. And all the time they are exploiting the weak and helpless. The longer their prayers, the worse they get. But they’ll pay for it in the end.” Sitting across from the offering box, Jesus was observing how the crowd tossed money in for the collection. Many of the rich were making large contributions. One poor widow came up and put in two small coins—a measly two cents. Jesus called his disciples over and said, “The truth is that their poor widow gave more to the collection than all the others put together. All the others gave what they’ll never miss; she gave extravagantly what she couldn’t afford—she gave her all.”

The scripture readings this morning are tricky. If we take them seriously, they stop us in our tracks. Mess us up a bit. Make us think twice. And then, think again. This is what God’s Word does. It meets us where we are. And then invites us to go somewhere we’ve never gone before. Righteous living isn’t always comfortable. Usually, faithfulness pushes us out of our comfort zones.

May we listen. May we hear. May we wrestle. May we be guided by what seems hardly possible, rather than held back with what we want to think is impossible. May we give. What we have. What we can. All we can. All we have.

Amen, and amen.