The Widow's Mite

"Jesus sat down opposite the treasure 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 treasure.  For all they have contributed out of their abundance; but she our of her poverty has put in everything she had, all she had to live on.'"

--Mark 12: 41-45

Why do we give?  What exactly is it that tells us to stop what we are doing and hand something over to someone else?  Money.  Time.  A helping hand.  Why do we do it?  The woman in this gospel passage shows us why in this story that we often call the Widow’s Mite.

An artist's rendering of the Widow's Mite from jesusmafa.com

This story hits at something we don’t like to talk about:  the fact that being a person of faith means that we must be sacrificial.  In ancient times a sacrifice, of course, was made to atone for one’s sins, but our sacrifice is different.  Jesus tells us to offer a sacrifice of praise and thanksgiving—those are familiar words to us because we often use them at this table when we pray that our gifts may be sanctified and blessed by God.  Sacrifice is not easy, and that’s the point.   Real generosity gives until it hurts because real generosity is genuine.  It didn’t hurt the rich folks, but it hurt the widow.  It must have.  Because it came from her heart and it was all that she had.

There is also a certain recklessness to the widow’s giving.  We’re told she put it two copper coins worth maybe a penny, a farthing, something really really small.  She could've kept one of them; at least then she would have had SOMETHING.  Yet she gave both.  There is a great gospel truth here:  she held nothing back from God.  How often do we hold something back?  While Jesus does not command us to literally give all of our stuff away—we’re not being asked to sell our house or our cars and go wander around like nomads--I think it’s worth asking ourselves, “Would we do it if we were asked to?”  Well, we know the widow’s response, don’t we?  That’s some pretty reckless giving.  And that's what makes it so holy.

Last week, on All Saints Day we remembered those great saints, those folks to whom we look up and who impart wisdom to us and serve as our examples for how we should live.  I find it beautifully strange that the person whom the Gospel writers use as the example of generosity is a woman who gives a gift of a penny.  How many of us, like those rich folks who saw her that day, would laugh?  That’s nothing!  No.  It’s everything.  She reminds us of that.  She reminds us that God will take whatever we offer and will work miracles with it.

Here's another bit of truth for you:  we in the Episcopal Church generally have no problem giving money.  We will write a check for Episcopal Relief & Development or some other charitable organization in a heartbeat.  Treasure isn't our issue.  Our issue lies in those other two pieces of stewardship, time and talent.  We don't give of our time because we feel we can't offer enough.  We don't give of our talent because we don't think it's good enough.  But what if we remembered the widow?  What if we remembered that whenever we offer something, no matter how small it seems, that Jesus will do amazing things with it?  

Too often I have heard this passaged misused by those who preach the so-called prosperity gospel. That is a false gospel that says if we give something to the church then God will bless us with even more.  This woman, those preachers say, gave everything to the church—to the temple—and who knows how God blessed her after that!  And folks who listen and follow such a gospel wind up giving and giving and giving to a church or to a pastor in the hopes that God will enrich their personal lives, which, of course doesn’t happen.  God doesn’t work that way!  We do not give to God in the hope of getting something back in the way of entertainment or goods.  We give for the glory of God, so that we may share Christ’s redemptive love with the world. This thing we are involved in is not consumerism, it's relationship.  We are in relationship with God, giving of ourselves out of love for God and God's people, so that God may use us to be Christ’s hands and feet and heart in this world. THAT is what it's about.  THAT is why we give:  because of our relationship with God.

So the next time you give—whether it’s time, talent, treasure,, whether it’s in church or out there in the world—ask yourself, “Is this for the glory of God? Is this giving done out of love?  Is this, somehow, integral to my relationship with God?”  For every opportunity we have to give, no matter where it is, can and should be used for the glory of God.  The widow knew that, and it’s why her giving was sacrificial, reckless, and holy.  

Many churches, including my own, are in the middle of their stewardship campaigns.  These are intentional times of year when our sermons focus on the holy act of stewardship, sometimes including testimonials from parishioners.  These days generally culminated in an in-gathering of gifts, when we bring our yearly pledges to church and together set them on the altar of God to be blessed so that we may use them to share Christ's redemptive love with the world.  For my church, at least, it seems fitting that this story of the Widow's Mite closes out our stewardship campaign.  Her kind of giving is the kind, God-willing, we are all called to show. The widow may not be the saint of stewardship,, at least not officially,  but maybe she should be because her giving is about being in relationship with God.  Let us pray that we may have the grace to do likewise.