A Widow's Faith

In Nomine Iesu
St. Mark 12:38-44
November 11, 2018
Proper 27B

Dear Saints of Our Savior~

As you read through the Bible, it doesn’t take long to realize that widows—women whose husbands have died—widows have a special place in the heart of God. Think of Ruth, the young Moabite widow—who by the mercies of God became a daughter of Israel and the great-grandmother of King David. Or think of Anna who was with Simeon in the temple, worshipping night and day, awaiting the redemption of Israel. And in the earliest days of the New Testament church, widows were the very first recipients of Christian mercy and charity.

Today’s readings have a slightly different take on widows. The widows we hear about today aren’t so much recipients of charity and mercy—as they themselves are instruments of blessing and examples of faith. The widow at Zerephath was an outsider—not a Jew, but a Gentile. Yet the Lord sent the Prophet Elijah directly to her. Like Old Mother Hubbard, this widow’s cupboard was bare. A handful of flour, a tiny bit of oil—just enough for a tiny loaf of bread to share with her son. A single mom unable to make ends meet. And now there’s a guest—another mouth to feed. But from this guest’s mouth comes the Word of the Lord: The jar of flour shall not be spent, and the jug of oil shall not be empty. And by faith this widow bakes and believes the Word of the Lord spoken by Elijah.

Now, if widows had a special place in the heart of God, then the Scribes had a special place when it came to the wrath of God. In today’s Holy Gospel Jesus singles out the Scribes for condemnation because they were masters at manipulating widows and bilking them out of their money and homes. Like televangelists today who prey on the homebound who watch them on tv, the Scribes used religion to take advantage of widows instead of helping them. Jesus is effusive in His condemnation of them. It turns out, God doesn’t take kindly to those who defraud widows.

Now, while Jesus and His disciples were sitting in the temple courtyard, another widow entered with her offering. In those days they didn’t use offering plates or offering envelopes—or paper products of any kind. No, the coins went into metal boxes with tops that

were shaped something like the bell of a horn. Lots of coins would make lots of noise and clatter when they went down. When the rich came in, ears perked up and heads turned as clattering coins filled the temple coffers. But as the poor widow put in her two tiny coins, no heads turned. There was no great sound. Nobody noticed what this widow dared to do.

Nobody noticed, that is, except for Jesus. Jesus notices what we do not notice. Jesus always notices faith. What Jesus heard was not the widow’s two tiny coins; Jesus heard faith. He noticed a widow’s trust in God who always takes care of widows and orphans—faith that gives away the last bits of flour and oil—faith that dared to put the last two pennies into the collection box. Jesus memorialized her gift and her faith: Truly I say to you, this poor widow has put in more than all those who are contributing to the offering box. What?! That’s not what the accountants would say. That’s not what the IRS would say. Her tiny gift would feed no poor and balance no budget. But Jesus said that she gave “more” than all the rest. Jesus’ accounting method is different: It’s not the amount. It’s not the number of zeroes that matters. It’s faith. Faith alone. Faith that is of greater worth than gold.

To the eyes of Jesus, who sees deep into the heart, that poor widow’s penny-sized offering was worth more than all the gold in King Herod’s treasury. The wealthy put in large amounts, to be sure; but even larger amounts remained in their pockets. The widow put in a microscopic amount; but the amount that remained in her purse was zero. Her gift totaled one hundred percent.

By the way, Jesus called this widow “poor,” but He never called her “old” or “elderly.” In the First Century young widows were much more common than they are today. The widow on the cover of this morning’s bulletin isn’t old and gray, but young. In fact, she’s holding a toddler in her arms with another tiny tot at her side. I see this text in a whole new light when I think that the “famous” widow might have been a twenty-something mother of two, and not an aging octogenarian.

This account doesn’t give us the whole story of stewardship, but it does teach us a few crucially important points. Jesus notices what we do not notice. He noticed the widow’s offering. He notices your offering—and the faith that leads you to give it. He notices the offerings given by teens, and by pre-teens and even the kindergarten crowd. And it’s not unheard of for some of the little ones you see here today to give a few pennies for Jesus. But make no mistake, those pennies are precious to Jesus. And if we don’t teach our children about this grace of giving, they will never learn it from anyone else.

This widow should cause us to examine our own offerings—to evaluate not just the amount, but the percentage we return to the Lord. If ten percent was the benchmark in the Old Testament, I wonder what we should aim for in the New Testament. The point is not that we turn over every last penny to Jesus. But it’s also safe to say that this widow didn’t just give what she felt “comfortable” giving. She didn’t just give what she could spare. She didn’t just give what was left over after she paid the mortgage and the utilities and the car payment. She gave sacrificially. She gave off the top with no fear of hitting rock bottom. She gave as an expression of her faith. And you can do that too.

Or consider again the widow of Zarephath. When the Lord directed Elijah to go to her for food, Elijah must have assumed that this was going to be a widow of means—the Jackie Onasis of widows. Turns out she and her son were destitute. But by the grace of God (who loves especially the widow and the fatherless), the oil and the flour did not run out. There was always enough. There was always more. The Lord always provides. You know that too. You believe that too. “He who did not spare His own Son, but gave Him up for us all—how will He not also . . . graciously give us all things” (Rom. 8:32)? And the offering you give is a chance to show that you believe it—to express your faith, that with our gracious God, there is always more, always enough, always abundance. The Lord always provides.

These widows show us what faith looks like. But it would be a mistake to see these two widows merely as teachers of the law. That dear widow with her two coins wasn’t merely singled out by Jesus to show us what do do—or just to make us feel guilty about the offerings we give. No, this dear widow is showing us the Savior—pointing ahead to the crucifixion cross of Jesus—to the greatest offering ever given in the history of the world.

This widow gave everything—all she had—in an act of pure love and devotion. Her pennies preach a sermon more powerful than any preacher could ever proclaim. For just as she gave away all she had, so Jesus gave all He had for you on Calvary’s cross. Only there was not the clanking and clattering of gold coins, but only the steady dripping and dropping of the blood of the Lamb, slain for your sin, securing your salvation, cleansing you from every stain. Jesus gave away all He had and all He was for you. He held nothing back as your sacred substitute.

That offering—the offering given by Jesus on Good Friday—that offering makes you rich. By faith in Jesus, you enjoy the riches of God’s grace, forgiveness for your sins, comfort in your sorrow, peace that passes understanding. Today you are invited to an extravagant meal that money can’t buy. On the menu is the body and blood of Jesus, shed for you, for the forgiveness of sins. Unlike any other meal, we come to this meal with empty pockets, empty hands, empty hearts. And Jesus fills us with His very life.

We trust Jesus with the big things—forgiveness, salvation, the life everlasting. Why not also trust Him with the small things? Why not trust Him with our coins and currency? Sometimes the oil and flour may run low. Sometimes your account balance might not register much more than the widow’s two mites. But you are never outside the Lord’s notice—never beyond the reach of His care and His love. He will never leave you or forsake you. “Let not your hearts be troubled,” He says. Seek first His kingdom and His righteousness, and He will handle everything else.

In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.