Throughout this fall, we’ve delved into the politics of Jesus. And in the Gospel of Mark, he has been unrelentingly focused on building a common life in which everyone can flourish. “The first shall be last and the last shall be first.” “The greatest among you shall be your servant.” These statements give punch to the great command to love—love God, love neighbor, love self, love creation. Love is not simply a nice feeling; it demands the rearranging of power. Jesus consistently reversed his society’s prevailing ways of operating. And he called upon his disciples to shift their view. They were to notice, and welcome, and offer care to people their society as a whole sought to discard: children and slaves, the poor, the sick and disabled.

And now, in today’s passage, it’s the widow. I’m quite sure no one noticed her slipping her last two coins into the treasury. Except Jesus. Many preachers have upheld this widow as an exemplar of generosity. I’m not sure that’s fair. If you read carefully, you’ll see that Jesus did not either praise (or critique) her. He simply pointed her out.

First, however, he pointed out the problematic behavior of some religious leaders, some scribes. Like Jesus’ own disciples in previous passages, they were driven by the desire for privilege and status—wearing long robes, demanding respectful greetings, cultivating banquet invitations. Distracted by all that striving, they ignored the most central teaching of the Jewish faith—care for the vulnerable—“devouring widow’s houses” in order to gain wealth, power, and influence for themselves.

In one moment Jesus condemned the behavior of these leaders and in the next moment he called attention to one of their victims. Jesus noted that the two small copper coins the widow placed in the treasury represented “her whole life.” That’s what the Greek actually says—“her whole life.” In other words, she was literally so poor she was about to die. Rather than supporting her well-being, the religious leaders, in their greed, and the temple system, in its corruption, took her life. 

This is pledge dedication Sunday, when we make our make promises to each other and God about what we will offer financially to support First Church in 2025. It’s a bit awkward then that this Gospel text isn’t about praising the extreme generosity of a poor person but about exposing the institution that is exploiting her. I receive this story as a nudge to engage in the continual soul-searching that will allow our congregation to stay true to our deepest identity. How can the heart of this religious community be more aligned with the heart of Jesus? Are we acting according to our values or are we just talking about them? And no matter what our intent, is our impact life-giving? Generosity is a reversal of conventional financial thinking that views money as an avenue for gaining control and security. For followers of Jesus, how we relate to money is a key aspect of discipleship. Money is a tool we can use to build beloved community, to reverse conventional power dynamics, and to embody the ways of love and mutual service. Our family releases about 10 percent of our monthly paychecks to support the church and other community organizations, which is a delightful feeling! We all have different financial circumstances. There’s no right way to give and share. What’s your way of contributing to the vision of beloved community?

The community in which Jesus would have us invest is about noticing and caring for the “little ones” of our society. Over these next years we will need to risk visibly allying ourselves with immigrants and transfolk, with women seeking healthcare and people with disabilities and so many others whose vulnerability the new administration may seek to exploit. And at the same time, building beloved community aligned with the heart of Jesus’ also has to be about bringing healing to our fractured and hurting nation. All week, I’ve been pondering the words of my friend and colleague Liz Loeb, a queer Jewish woman who is the Associate Director of MN Interfaith Power and Light. On Wednesday morning, she wrote: 

We have four years to do one of the most difficult things I can imagine, which is to become curious about why this is happening. I do not and cannot believe that over half of the people on this country are stupid and cruel. I believe that people are scared, and sad, and grieving a pandemic without much roadmap or recognition. I believe that too many people feel like institutions have failed them and that they have no way to thrive. I believe that too many people are struggling to afford food and housing, and are reaching for hope in someone who says they can fix it. The explicit racism and sexism are fuel to the fire, but it took more than hate to make this moment. If we believe that liberation is collective, that none of us are free until all of us are free, then I think we need to find enough space inside us to reach towards people who are making choices that we can’t understand, choices that feel painful and dangerous. I don’t pretend to know how we do that, or what comes next. I just believe that we need to try in ways that we haven’t tried before. We have each other. We know how to love and organize and create and resist through impossible times. We’ll take it one step at a time. We’ll do it together.

Amen.