Twenty-fifth Sunday after Pentecost (Year B), 10 November 2024
Revd Rob Miners
In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.
We live in a world in which it is assumed that honour, respect, homage are due to those who possess wealth, or rank, or both. So, those who have, get more. Mark, by his arrangement of the material in our Gospel reading, has pointed up for us the contrast between the values of the world, including the religious world, and those of God’s kingdom. Jesus’ indictment of the comfortably off scribes, concerned about what was due to them, contrasts sharply with his commendation of the poor widow, who divested herself of the little she possessed, and claimed nothing as her due.
In order to feel the full force of the contrast, we need to look at the passage in some detail. We notice first that the description of the scribes draws attention to their concern with status. They loved to walk up and down in long robes and be greeted respectfully in the street.
Now, you might think that that was not a bad thing, that deference should be shown to these people, who were, after all, men of some quality. To be a scribe meant that you were a man of learning and, in particular, that you had devoted yourself to the study of God’s law. Expounding, teaching, that law to others, was your professional occupation.
It was assumed that those who taught the law were living by it, and there were no investigative journalists from 60 Minutes in those days to bring accusations against them. So, what was wrong about giving honour where honour was apparently due? Wouldn’t our own society today be better off if people of worth were shown the respect they deserve? Maybe. But notice that status does not, in fact, depend on worth.
Because here was this poor widow who, as a woman, had no status anyway, and whose husband’s death had deprived her of the place in society that had been hers through her marriage to him. She may well have been a person of worth, struggling hard to make ends meet, and not a burden to anyone, working her fingers to the bone to bring up her children decently, but she had no status. She was a nobody.
Yet the scribes attached great importance to status. They loved, took delight in, the respect that was paid to them, regarded it as their right. They would even think that a Qantas upgrade would be theirs. Another thing they loved was to be noticed, to have the chief seats in synagogues and places of honour at feasts. To be noticed in that sort of context means to be admired and envied. It means being one step ahead of the Josephs.
But here again, what’s wrong with wanting to be seen? Is it your fault if, while some admire, others may envy you, be jealous of you? Surely, as John’s Gospel says, it is bad people, evil people, who want not to be seen. The ones who come to the light, who are happy to be seen, are those who live by the truth.
Not always. While it is true that many evil deeds are done under the cover of darkness, others are done with the express object of attracting attention. They may even be part of a publicity campaign. Though Jesus told us to let our light shine, he also warned us against doing good things simply to impress others.
And here was this poor widow, perhaps the most inconspicuous person present, not wanting to be noticed, ashamed, it may be, of the meagreness of what she had to offer. Quite possibly, the only person to notice her was Jesus. Although what she was doing was truly remarkable. She would have been more than happy to remain anonymous, whereas the scribes hankered after the chief seats in places of honour.
Meanwhile—and this sharpens up the contrast even more—those same scribes were eating up the property of widows. "Which devour widows’ houses," it said. Mudbrick doesn’t sound all that appetising to me. But there is some doubt as to what is meant by devouring widows’ houses. It can hardly mean that the scribes as a body were going around evicting widows from their homes. What it may mean is that some scribes were taking advantage of the vulnerability of widows, perhaps by asking for money in return for prayers offered on their behalf.
Hence the reference here to saying long prayers for appearances’ sake, as we are told. Whatever the precise meaning of devouring widows’ houses, it isn’t easy to make excuses for the kind of conduct it refers to. At worst, we’re talking about heartless exploitation, at best about insensitive manipulation, in either case about acquisitiveness masquerading as piety. Piety without pity.
And here was this poor widow with no more than two half pennies to rub together, who had every reason to be resentful of the rich people around her. Now depending on which version of scripture you read, the description of the widow’s coins varies from King James Version: two mites which make a farthing, New International Version: two very small copper coins worth only a fraction of a farthing, Living Bible: two pennies, to Revised Standard Version: two copper coins which make a penny.
But here we had rich people around her parading their wealth and bitter towards God because of the straits to which she was reduced.
But she wasn’t resentful. She wasn’t bitter. She was grateful. She was generous. She did what she could. She gave all she had to live on.
What sort of impact do the contrasts we have been looking at make on you? Most of us can, without difficulty, see ourselves in the picture of the scribes that is painted here. Status is important to us in society and even in the church. We like to be noticed, at least in the sense that our efforts are recognised and our contribution appreciated. Our attitudes and conduct more often reflect the values of the world than the values of the kingdom. Yet this passage, bringing together as it does criticism of the scribes and praise for the poor widow, is good news as well as bad.
Why? Because we can identify with the poor widow woman as well. In spite of our concerns about status, most of us have nothing much to boast about really. Though we look for recognition, we know in our hearts that our successes are at least equalled by our failures.
Though we want wealth, we know that it cannot satisfy. But how far are we prepared to go in our identification with the poor widow? All the way to the point of giving all we have? What does it mean to give all we have? It’s renouncing what we have called the world’s values, the endless quest for status, recognition, wealth. It means cultivating a sense of gratitude for what we have received.
It means realising that whatever our circumstances, we are never too poor to give. It means responding generously and open-heartedly to God’s love. It means having the mind of Christ who gave all he had. The same as the widow. They both gave all they had.