Would you invite someone to dinner if you had no food? Who gives when they have nothing? Apparently, that’s what the poor widow in our Gospel story did, as Jesus tells it:
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.”
Out of nothing – everything she had. Was that nothing or everything? This overturns the notion that you have to have something to give something, that you only need to give if you have a little left over. What would it look like if people gave whether or not they had anything?
My church group served dinner at the men’s shelter in Stamford last night, as we do every month. None of us asked the men to give us anything – but why not? Why do we assume that, just because they have no home or financial resources they have no assets to share as human beings? And yet, as I went around offering to pray with each man there, I didn’t think to ask them to pray for me.
What if we expected recipients of charity to give generously as well as receive, if that was considered normal? I don’t mean that we should ask someone who comes for a meal to sweep out the kitchen. I’m not talking about charging for help we give. I’m suggesting we create a culture of giving even among those who “have nothing,” as a way of fostering wholeness and integrity in community. I suspect we’d have a lot more empowered people filling our shelters and soup kitchens, and empowered people do a lot better on job interviews.
There is a spiritual principle at work here. We claim that God created the universe ex nihilo, out of nothing. We proclaim that Jesus, who had no earthly goods, poured himself out completely, giving his entire life and spirit to what looked like defeat. And on Easter we trumpet his victory out of nothing, celebrating an empty space, a void, where a corpse was supposed to be. Out of nothing, everything.
That widow in the temple might have given her last coins because she was out of options, out of strategies – she was casting herself entirely upon God’s mercy. She gave what she had and left herself empty and ready to receive.
We all know how to give out of our plenty. What are the areas in which you feel you have nothing? What would it look like to give from that place? Where is God inviting you to try that?
11-4-15 - When Less is More
A person puts a $100 bill into the collection plate. The next person puts in 50 cents. Who has given more?
[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.” (This week's gospel reading is here.)
Sometimes less is more, and more is less. That’s why Christians are encouraged to think about percentages in giving rather than set amounts. Giving a percentage of our income levels the field – the person whose income is $40,000 a year can give at the same level or higher than the one with a six-figure income. In fact, often those who have less to give make proportionally higher donations. Perhaps having less to play with can free us up to take bigger risks.
Indeed, the higher our incomes, the ouch-ier the math can be. Ten percent of $40,000 is $4,000; a goodly sum, but conceivable. But say your income is $200,000 per year; now we’re talking a $20,000 pledge. Heart palpitations set in. Why? Not, I suspect, because we actually need that $20,000 to live on if we’ve got $180,000 left, but because our culture says it’s crazy to give $20,000 to support a religious ministry. Spending $20,000 on a big vacation or a new car is reasonable; giving that away is counter-cultural.
The life of the Christ-follower is meant to be counter-cultural, risky, and exhilarating. We are invited to gratefully enjoy the resources we do have, to live simply and in a way that does little or no harm to our fellow humans and fellow creatures, and to give lavishly, as God has given us. When we’re not so worried about how much we need, we are freer to enjoy what we have. Freedom is God’s desire for us, and a source of infectious joy.
Today let's pray with our calculator and tax returns handy. Look at your adjusted gross income for last year. Look at your pledge or giving record. Do the math.
Maybe you’re giving more than 10 percent, maybe less.
Do you feel free? Do you feel joyful? Do you feel open-handed?
Do you feel anxious, closed in, put upon? Pray those feelings.
That widow gave it all. Maybe she had nothing left to lose.
Today I am asking myself, “What do you have to lose?” And whatever the answer is, I pray for the grace to loosen my grip on it, and coast on the winds of the Spirit.
[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.” (This week's gospel reading is here.)
Sometimes less is more, and more is less. That’s why Christians are encouraged to think about percentages in giving rather than set amounts. Giving a percentage of our income levels the field – the person whose income is $40,000 a year can give at the same level or higher than the one with a six-figure income. In fact, often those who have less to give make proportionally higher donations. Perhaps having less to play with can free us up to take bigger risks.
Indeed, the higher our incomes, the ouch-ier the math can be. Ten percent of $40,000 is $4,000; a goodly sum, but conceivable. But say your income is $200,000 per year; now we’re talking a $20,000 pledge. Heart palpitations set in. Why? Not, I suspect, because we actually need that $20,000 to live on if we’ve got $180,000 left, but because our culture says it’s crazy to give $20,000 to support a religious ministry. Spending $20,000 on a big vacation or a new car is reasonable; giving that away is counter-cultural.
The life of the Christ-follower is meant to be counter-cultural, risky, and exhilarating. We are invited to gratefully enjoy the resources we do have, to live simply and in a way that does little or no harm to our fellow humans and fellow creatures, and to give lavishly, as God has given us. When we’re not so worried about how much we need, we are freer to enjoy what we have. Freedom is God’s desire for us, and a source of infectious joy.
Today let's pray with our calculator and tax returns handy. Look at your adjusted gross income for last year. Look at your pledge or giving record. Do the math.
Maybe you’re giving more than 10 percent, maybe less.
Do you feel free? Do you feel joyful? Do you feel open-handed?
Do you feel anxious, closed in, put upon? Pray those feelings.
That widow gave it all. Maybe she had nothing left to lose.
Today I am asking myself, “What do you have to lose?” And whatever the answer is, I pray for the grace to loosen my grip on it, and coast on the winds of the Spirit.
11-3-15 - Offering
I’m guessing Jesus liked to people-watch, and the temple courts were great places to observe human behavior, good, bad and indifferent. One day he decided to watch people putting their offerings into the temple treasury.
He 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.
Giving was very much a public activity, it appears. In some church traditions today it is as well; the collection of financial gifts takes a whole section of the Sunday service, with an exhortation, an invitation to people to rise from their seats and walk their money to ushers waiting with baskets, a lengthy prayer of blessing over the collection, a counting during the service and sometimes a second offering if the first fell short. Giving is public, expected, and celebrated.
In contrast, many of our mainline churches make as little fuss as possible. Pledges are secret, money or checks are folded so no one can see how much – or how little – was given, and people are often uncomfortable discussing their offerings. The only pageantry is when the offering plates are brought to the altar during the singing of an offertory refrain, and the celebrant raises them heavenward for blessing, as if to say, “Please multiply these like the loaves and the fish, dear Lord…”
Giving is intrinsic to our Christian faith, and one of the most tangible ways our faith is expressed and put into action in the world. It is something to be celebrated – that we have something to give, that we’re willing to part with it, that we’re excited to add our money to that of others in our faith community and see what God will make of what we bring. We don’t have to be apologetic about discussing money, handling money, or celebrating money.
If you are a regular church-goer, you’ve probably been sent a pledge card recently and asked to “prayerfully consider” how much you can envision contributing to your church in the coming year. What if that prayer begins with, “Lord, thank you for giving me everything I have. How much do you want me to pledge to see your mission in this world carried forward through my church?” See how God replies!
At Christ the Healer our pledge theme this year is “Releasing Our Joy." I think maybe next Sunday we’ll put on some dancing music and dance our pledge cards to the altar. Think I can get away with that in an Episcopal church?
(Now I’ll find out how many of my parishioners actually read this thing…)
He 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.
Giving was very much a public activity, it appears. In some church traditions today it is as well; the collection of financial gifts takes a whole section of the Sunday service, with an exhortation, an invitation to people to rise from their seats and walk their money to ushers waiting with baskets, a lengthy prayer of blessing over the collection, a counting during the service and sometimes a second offering if the first fell short. Giving is public, expected, and celebrated.
In contrast, many of our mainline churches make as little fuss as possible. Pledges are secret, money or checks are folded so no one can see how much – or how little – was given, and people are often uncomfortable discussing their offerings. The only pageantry is when the offering plates are brought to the altar during the singing of an offertory refrain, and the celebrant raises them heavenward for blessing, as if to say, “Please multiply these like the loaves and the fish, dear Lord…”
Giving is intrinsic to our Christian faith, and one of the most tangible ways our faith is expressed and put into action in the world. It is something to be celebrated – that we have something to give, that we’re willing to part with it, that we’re excited to add our money to that of others in our faith community and see what God will make of what we bring. We don’t have to be apologetic about discussing money, handling money, or celebrating money.
If you are a regular church-goer, you’ve probably been sent a pledge card recently and asked to “prayerfully consider” how much you can envision contributing to your church in the coming year. What if that prayer begins with, “Lord, thank you for giving me everything I have. How much do you want me to pledge to see your mission in this world carried forward through my church?” See how God replies!
At Christ the Healer our pledge theme this year is “Releasing Our Joy." I think maybe next Sunday we’ll put on some dancing music and dance our pledge cards to the altar. Think I can get away with that in an Episcopal church?
(Now I’ll find out how many of my parishioners actually read this thing…)
11-2-15 - Of Vipers and VIPs
Next Sunday’s Gospel reading finds Jesus on familiar ground: ragging on the religious leaders. This time it is the scribes who have raised his hackles. He has been in an extended exchange with scribes seeking his learned opinion on several matters – or trying to entrap him. Maybe he’s had enough, for he does not mince words:
As he 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 synagogues 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 doesn’t use the term “vipers” here, as he elsewhere calls some Pharisees – but he’s lambasting these scribes for acting like VIPs. I suppose we’ve all known clergy like this, who take as given their country-club memberships and access to the halls of power. These scribes seem to have expected and exploited the elevated status accorded them as religious leaders. Perhaps the fact that their power was so very limited, under the ever-present thumb of the Roman occupiers, made them all the more eager to take on airs.
Those who have been given the power of high position have extra responsibility to regard themselves as no better than those whom they serve. We all know that, but privilege is deeply seductive. It is human nature to enjoy it.
I believe true humility comes from seeing ourselves as God sees us – as beloved sinners, redeemed royalty, capable of tremendous good and immense damage. When we know how loved we are despite our flaws, we are better able to love others instead of using them to make us feel important. That’s a prayer for today: “Lord God, show me who you see when you look at me.” It’s always surprising.
Tomorrow we will go to the polls and elect leaders to serve us. In most cases, we are electing members of municipal boards and lower-level officials. But everyone who offers herself for elected office, and anyone who exercises his right to vote, would do well to remember Jesus’ advice:
Take the worst seats, greet people with humility before they have a chance to butter you up, seek justice - and keep your prayers short!
As he 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 synagogues 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 doesn’t use the term “vipers” here, as he elsewhere calls some Pharisees – but he’s lambasting these scribes for acting like VIPs. I suppose we’ve all known clergy like this, who take as given their country-club memberships and access to the halls of power. These scribes seem to have expected and exploited the elevated status accorded them as religious leaders. Perhaps the fact that their power was so very limited, under the ever-present thumb of the Roman occupiers, made them all the more eager to take on airs.
Those who have been given the power of high position have extra responsibility to regard themselves as no better than those whom they serve. We all know that, but privilege is deeply seductive. It is human nature to enjoy it.
I believe true humility comes from seeing ourselves as God sees us – as beloved sinners, redeemed royalty, capable of tremendous good and immense damage. When we know how loved we are despite our flaws, we are better able to love others instead of using them to make us feel important. That’s a prayer for today: “Lord God, show me who you see when you look at me.” It’s always surprising.
Tomorrow we will go to the polls and elect leaders to serve us. In most cases, we are electing members of municipal boards and lower-level officials. But everyone who offers herself for elected office, and anyone who exercises his right to vote, would do well to remember Jesus’ advice:
Take the worst seats, greet people with humility before they have a chance to butter you up, seek justice - and keep your prayers short!
10-30-15 - Saints Unbound
Hearing this gospel story on the day after Hallowe’en may set up some jarring mental images. What did Lazarus look like, emerging from that tomb at Jesus’ command, “Lazarus! Come out!” It’s hard not to summon one of those old-time B movies about mummies coming to life. Here comes this form, wrapped in cloth from head to toe, unable to walk:
The dead man came out, his hands and feet bound with strips of cloth, and his face wrapped in a cloth.
It must have caused pandemonium. Or utter silence. And Jesus didn’t say anything like, “Whew – glad that worked,” or “Welcome back, Lazarus!” He simply said, “Unbind him, and let him go.”
Unbind him. Undo all the work you did to prepare his body for burial. Now you need to prepare him for life, renewed life.
Unbind him. Release him to move freely, to reenter relationships, to fully be who God made him to be.
Unbind him. Set him free forever from having to fear death.
That is also the work we are called to as saints in God’s mission of reclaiming, restoring and renewing all of creation to wholeness in Christ. We unbind people from the bondage of poverty and addiction, from the pain of infirmity and broken relationships, from the paralysis of depression and materialism. We unbind structures of injustice and cruelty that hold back people, animals, this creation itself from fully living. We are in the business of releasing the captives, as Jesus has released us. “Unbind her, and let her go.”
Today is the birthday of my older sister Paula, who died in 1996, tightly bound by ailments and addictions. A few months after her death, I was given a picture in prayer of Jesus taking her hand and leading her out of the door of the apartment in which she died. I knew that now she was free from the turmoil that often mitigated the many joys of her earthly life; free to be fully herself, fully the saint she was made to be, with all her uniqueness, her incredible gifts and intelligence and love. She is a saint unbound, fully alive.
That is our invitation too – to become more and more free in this life, released to love and be loved, and in the life to come completely unbound. What a dance of joy that will be!
We may as well start dancing now - it's what all cool saints are doing.
The dead man came out, his hands and feet bound with strips of cloth, and his face wrapped in a cloth.
It must have caused pandemonium. Or utter silence. And Jesus didn’t say anything like, “Whew – glad that worked,” or “Welcome back, Lazarus!” He simply said, “Unbind him, and let him go.”
Unbind him. Undo all the work you did to prepare his body for burial. Now you need to prepare him for life, renewed life.
Unbind him. Release him to move freely, to reenter relationships, to fully be who God made him to be.
Unbind him. Set him free forever from having to fear death.
That is also the work we are called to as saints in God’s mission of reclaiming, restoring and renewing all of creation to wholeness in Christ. We unbind people from the bondage of poverty and addiction, from the pain of infirmity and broken relationships, from the paralysis of depression and materialism. We unbind structures of injustice and cruelty that hold back people, animals, this creation itself from fully living. We are in the business of releasing the captives, as Jesus has released us. “Unbind her, and let her go.”
Today is the birthday of my older sister Paula, who died in 1996, tightly bound by ailments and addictions. A few months after her death, I was given a picture in prayer of Jesus taking her hand and leading her out of the door of the apartment in which she died. I knew that now she was free from the turmoil that often mitigated the many joys of her earthly life; free to be fully herself, fully the saint she was made to be, with all her uniqueness, her incredible gifts and intelligence and love. She is a saint unbound, fully alive.
That is our invitation too – to become more and more free in this life, released to love and be loved, and in the life to come completely unbound. What a dance of joy that will be!
We may as well start dancing now - it's what all cool saints are doing.
10-29-15 - That They May Believe
How could anyone watch a man four days buried walk out of a sealed tomb, and not believe in the power of God? After all, Jesus says that's why he was doing this great work of power, "So that they may believe."
So they took away the stone. And Jesus looked upward and said, “Father, I thank you for having heard me. I knew that you always hear me, but I have said this for the sake of the crowd standing here, so that they may believe that you sent me.” When he had said this, he cried with a loud voice, “Lazarus, come out!” The dead man came out, his hands and feet bound with strips of cloth, and his face wrapped in a cloth.
How could anyone see this and not believe? Yet soon after this, Jesus himself is executed by people who observed this miracle and did not believe (or perhaps believed to the point of terror...). And a short while after that, Jesus stands among his disciples, himself risen from the dead, and even some of them do not believe. Thomas, whom the writer of John's gospel places with Jesus during the Lazarus story (he even has dialogue); Thomas, who watched Jesus bring Lazarus back from the dead, is unable to believe that Jesus is risen on the testimony of others. He has to see for himself. And in that story, in this same gospel, Jesus says, "Blessed are they who have not seen and yet believe."
Is faith that is ignited by signs and wonders less worthy? I hope not - for Jesus went about doing many signs which brought people to faith, and the book of Acts is full of such wonders. Witnessing the power of God is the beginning of faith for many. I confess that sometimes when I pray for healing for someone, I like to remind God of the benefit his reputation might enjoy from a positive outcome. (Yeah, God has not actually hired me to be his agent...)
Jesus did invite people to believe based on the signs and wonders he performed, but not to rest there. We go astray when we focus on the signs themselves instead of who they are pointing to. Mature faith endures during times when it is harder to see God's hand in the world about us. That doesn't mean God is less active. It's an invitation to pray for keener faith vision to see how God is all over our lives.
Evidence of God's power can be like the romantic phase of a relationship; it invites us to go deeper into knowing the Other, and allowing ourselves to be known. Finding ourselves known and yet loved can be the most transforming miracle of all, bringing back to life parts of us that have died.
So they took away the stone. And Jesus looked upward and said, “Father, I thank you for having heard me. I knew that you always hear me, but I have said this for the sake of the crowd standing here, so that they may believe that you sent me.” When he had said this, he cried with a loud voice, “Lazarus, come out!” The dead man came out, his hands and feet bound with strips of cloth, and his face wrapped in a cloth.
How could anyone see this and not believe? Yet soon after this, Jesus himself is executed by people who observed this miracle and did not believe (or perhaps believed to the point of terror...). And a short while after that, Jesus stands among his disciples, himself risen from the dead, and even some of them do not believe. Thomas, whom the writer of John's gospel places with Jesus during the Lazarus story (he even has dialogue); Thomas, who watched Jesus bring Lazarus back from the dead, is unable to believe that Jesus is risen on the testimony of others. He has to see for himself. And in that story, in this same gospel, Jesus says, "Blessed are they who have not seen and yet believe."
Is faith that is ignited by signs and wonders less worthy? I hope not - for Jesus went about doing many signs which brought people to faith, and the book of Acts is full of such wonders. Witnessing the power of God is the beginning of faith for many. I confess that sometimes when I pray for healing for someone, I like to remind God of the benefit his reputation might enjoy from a positive outcome. (Yeah, God has not actually hired me to be his agent...)
Jesus did invite people to believe based on the signs and wonders he performed, but not to rest there. We go astray when we focus on the signs themselves instead of who they are pointing to. Mature faith endures during times when it is harder to see God's hand in the world about us. That doesn't mean God is less active. It's an invitation to pray for keener faith vision to see how God is all over our lives.
Evidence of God's power can be like the romantic phase of a relationship; it invites us to go deeper into knowing the Other, and allowing ourselves to be known. Finding ourselves known and yet loved can be the most transforming miracle of all, bringing back to life parts of us that have died.
10-28-15 - The Dead Smell
Many things in this world smell bad, but I’m told there is no stench like that of a decomposing corpse. Mercifully I have no first-hand experience. One reason we put our dead into graves and tombs is to insulate us from the smell of decay. So I can only imagine the shock to those gathered outside Lazarus’ tomb when Jesus said, “Take away the stone.”
Then Jesus, again greatly disturbed, came to the tomb. It was a cave, and a stone was lying against it. Jesus said, “Take away the stone.” Martha, the sister of the dead man, said to him, “Lord, already there is a stench because he has been dead four days.” Jesus said to her, “Did I not tell you that if you believed, you would see the glory of God?” So they took away the stone.
Martha, ever the housekeeper, so much more earth-bound than her spiritual sister Mary, has no trouble speaking what everyone was no doubt thinking. “The stench, Lord; did you forget the dead smell?” I can hear the subtext: “Are you so lost in the clouds in your holiness and preaching, you don’t know what a dead person can smell like?”
Martha, bless her, is naming reality. The world needs more people like her, who will just say what needs to be said. And yet, that very gift, of stating the unpleasant facts in a given situation, can also keep one from believing in an outcome better than anyone can imagine. And Jesus was promising an outcome that no one could ever have imagined.
We have a notion that holiness smells good. There are psalms about our prayers rising before God as incense. This story reminds us that, on the way to seeing the glory of God, we often pass through some pretty revolting messes. We want to be protected from the messes, but as Good Friday, not to mention our own experience, teaches us, that’s not how God works. Our Good News says that God walks through the muck and mud with us, enduring the reek of things dead and decaying, and shows us in ways we cannot imagine how life can break forth, even there.
Think of the way a rose bush might grow through, even because of, the dung used to fertilize it, its fragrance the sweeter for the fetid ground in which it was born.
Jesus knew life was breaking forth. Martha trusted Jesus.
So they took away the stone.
Then Jesus, again greatly disturbed, came to the tomb. It was a cave, and a stone was lying against it. Jesus said, “Take away the stone.” Martha, the sister of the dead man, said to him, “Lord, already there is a stench because he has been dead four days.” Jesus said to her, “Did I not tell you that if you believed, you would see the glory of God?” So they took away the stone.
Martha, ever the housekeeper, so much more earth-bound than her spiritual sister Mary, has no trouble speaking what everyone was no doubt thinking. “The stench, Lord; did you forget the dead smell?” I can hear the subtext: “Are you so lost in the clouds in your holiness and preaching, you don’t know what a dead person can smell like?”
Martha, bless her, is naming reality. The world needs more people like her, who will just say what needs to be said. And yet, that very gift, of stating the unpleasant facts in a given situation, can also keep one from believing in an outcome better than anyone can imagine. And Jesus was promising an outcome that no one could ever have imagined.
We have a notion that holiness smells good. There are psalms about our prayers rising before God as incense. This story reminds us that, on the way to seeing the glory of God, we often pass through some pretty revolting messes. We want to be protected from the messes, but as Good Friday, not to mention our own experience, teaches us, that’s not how God works. Our Good News says that God walks through the muck and mud with us, enduring the reek of things dead and decaying, and shows us in ways we cannot imagine how life can break forth, even there.
Think of the way a rose bush might grow through, even because of, the dung used to fertilize it, its fragrance the sweeter for the fetid ground in which it was born.
Jesus knew life was breaking forth. Martha trusted Jesus.
So they took away the stone.
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