Creekside Church Sermon of November 9, 1997 "The Significance of the Insignificant" Mark 12:38-44	Rev. David Bibbee
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While preparing today's message, I recalled a memorable lunch. What made it so wasn't the food or the ambience, but what happened after the meal. I was eating with another pastor, discussing how things were going in our churches...what was happening or not happening, what was working and what wasn't. At the table next to us sat a gentleman eating by himself and working on reports of some kind, appearing totally absorbed in his meal and work. The waitress laid our check on the table, and we continued talking.

"Excuse me." We turned and our neighbor was standing at our table with his hand on the check. "Will you allow me to pay for your meal?" he asked. My friend's eyes met mine with a surprised expression, and in unison we said, "Sure!" We thanked him and he only replied, "It's my pleasure." Did he like what we said? Did he feel sorry for us? We watched him walk across the parking lot toward two vehicles parked side by side, one a rust riddled pick-up truck, the other a black, new Mercedes-two symbols...one of getting by, the other of making it big. Which one do you think he got into?

The unexpected generosity of an unknown man for an unknown reason made an unanticipated difference for my day, and left a lasting impression. And as he drove off in the pick-up, I remembered the ironic fact that those with the least give the most. Today we are revisiting a story that comes to the same conclusion. It is about those who contributed out of their abundance, and a widow, who, out of her poverty, gave everything she had, and as such, turns our notions of significance and insignificance all around.

Jesus was on his way to the cross, in large part because of the offensive things he said to those in authority. Religious leaders like having their lunch paid for. They don't like being called hypocrites and thieves, not to their face, and not in front of everyone in the temple. Sitting opposite the temple treasury, a poor widow caught Jesus' eye. She stood before one of the thirteen trumpet-shaped boxes into which people put money for the temple offering. They were marked: debt retirement, sacrificial animals, furnace fund. With an air of show and sophistication, the rich gave their large sums while discussing the finer points of scripture. But Jesus gazed at the widow whose offering made a piddley "ping" in the box.

Her gift was next to nothing; two tiny coins. She could have kept one. A fifty-percent tithe was impressive. But she gave both-all she had, and as such she holds an honored place in scripture. She shows she knows that God's heart is generous and to be in love with him is to be generous like him. By economic measures her offering was insignificant, inconsequential, a waste. But by kingdom measures she out gave everyone. And we praise her for what she did, which is the very thing we wouldn't do. We turn her story into a "bite of a little more for God and the church" moral, but we don't accept a literal application, do we?

I read about a man who retired and volunteered two days a week at a soup kitchen. The more he worked the stronger he felt about this ministry, so much so that he wrote it a check...for one hundred thousand dollars-- big portion of his life savings. When his children learned what he had done, they put him in a nursing home. It was obvious to them that he was not in his right mind. I wonder...would they have done the same if he had given the money to them?

The story of the poor widow is a fine one as long as we interpret significant giving with a more reasoned approach. But I want us to consider a different interpretation of this story that puts it in a whole new light. Some Biblical scholars now say Jesus may have lamented, and not praised the widow's offering. In the very next verse after this story, the disciples said to Jesus, "Will you just look at this beautiful temple?" "This is going to fall," Jesus said. "Not one stone will be left upon another." The religious authorities didn't appreciate Jesus saying their beautiful temple would be destroyed. They had a lot of pride in their temple, but it took a lot of money to keep it going. Into this destined to be destroyed building, the widow, out of her poverty was putting in everything she had.

Look again at what Jesus said about the scribes at the beginning of our passage. "They love recognition and honor. They love the best seats and the head table. They devour widow's houses." Is Jesus saying the widow's last penny is being used to prop up a religious show that God deplores? What was considered significant, Jesus declared insignificant. What the widow gave in trust was really a source of oppression. "Look! She gave everything she had to a temple that won't be left standing! Beware of the scribes who devour widow's houses!" No wonder they wanted to get rid of Jesus.

With this kind of interpretation, what does the text tell us? At the very least it says that what we give ourselves to had better have lasting significance. You can put yourself and your resources into a building, but with time, buildings crumble and collapse. You can give to a program. But programs live a little while and are replaced by different ones, and in time will soon be forgotten. You can give to institutions, but what are institutions but a creation and collection of human beings who are subject to self-interest and conflict, and like buildings, decay? Do we give to buildings, programs, and institutions, or do we give our best to that which lasts?

The psalmist said, "As the deer longs for flowing streams, so longs my soul for you, O God." Or as a theologian put it, "The ultimate concern to which we give ourselves is the one who has given to us." Christian giving is giving to God who has given us our breath, our daily bread, the best way to live, and a life beyond life with him forever. We give so the good news of forgiveness, mercy, and a new life can be known.

I was at a meeting in another church where a mood of negativity and a perception of poverty had taken over. All sorts of reasons were given for why, year by year the budget had been cut and outreach giving slowed to a trickle. One after another they said, "We can't. We shouldn't. We don't. We would do more if we could, but the money just isn't there. But I don't think the problem was money. It was a poverty of passion. We are drawn to the object of our passion, and out of passion comes abundance.

Last week we talked about the saints. The great saints did nothing half way. Their love for God led them to offer all they had. No harnessing the heart. No restraints on love. Saint Teresa said it like this, "I have no defense against affection. I could be bribed with a sardine."

It is God's will that motivates, and it is giving to God with abandon that Jesus' praises. Prudence, constraint, and conservatism are words we often hear when the subject of church funds comes up. Yet I am struck by the fact that when the gospels deal with giving, prudence, constraint, and conservatism are never used. Instead we have images of excess and extravagance. A woman pours ointment worth thousands of dollars on Jesus' feet and wipes them with her hair. A son runs off with his inheritance, tells dad to drop dead, and lives a life of excess till it's all gone. He crawls back and his father out-excesses him to welcome him home. A wealthy landowner turns over all he's got to his servants to wheel and deal with while he's gone. When he returns, he says to those who invested the money, "Well done. It's yours." "You mean the interest, sir?" "No, the interest and the principle." A rich young ruler asked Jesus how to get eternal life. "Sell everything you've got and give it to the poor."

No holding back. No saving for a rainy day. No fiscal constraint. Excess. Extravagance. Outlandish generosity. "And she, out of her poverty, put in everything she had." But what if she was giving her last cent to a lost cause? How does the widow speak to us, then? She shows us we must be careful that God is the reason for our giving, but restraint and calculation are not part of the picture. Mark follows her story with the story of a man who gave his all.

To an outside observer, what Jesus did probably seemed like a waste of a good life. Spending himself on a cross for the lost cause of humanity. What possible significance could such an act have? Everything. The extravagance was for us so that learning of God's deep passion, we will be moved to an excessive offering of our lives in his service. And when we are grasped by the wonder of his love, it will not only relate to our checkbooks. The little, seemingly insignificant things of life will be transformed.

Two pennies in the offering plate. What good did it do? It tells us still that nothing done for God is ever wasted. When Vicki Ehret had back to back surgeries three years ago, she had daily visits from a guy named Henry Schmucker. He simply dropped in for a few moments each day to wish her well. Just a little thing. What good did it do? Just ask Vicki. Eileen Rohrer drives to Portage Manor in South Bend to take Bruce Paff to lunch. It's just a little thing. What good does it do? Just ask Bill and Elizabeth. An unknown man picked up the tab for my lunch. Just an unexpected little thing. What good did it do? There was a bumper sticker on his rusty pick-up that said, "God loves you." And his generosity spoke to me throughout that day..."Yes, God does."

Keith Miller tells the story of Jane, an eighty-year-old nurse who was perky, frank, and in love with God. She belonged to a group of Christians who were discussing ways they could make a difference in their city. "There is a terrible problem among older bed ridden poor people in our town," she said. "Many of them suffer because they're constipated and there's no one to give them the proper nursing care of an enema." So in her cheery style, Jane visited poor old people throughout the city, giving enema's for Christ's sake.

As she talked, the others worked hard to squelch smiles, but as she continued, they were drawn into the story of how she had for years cared for people in her spare time for no charge. When she was a young nurse she was angered by the people the hospital turned away because they couldn't pay for care. She prayed about it, and felt God calling her to open her home to sick women, Christians and non-Christians. After working her shift at the hospital, she cared for the sick in her home. It wasn't long till she ran out of money, and she sat on the front porch crying into a thirty-dollar milk bill she couldn't pay. She promised God she wouldn't put these women on the street, but didn't know where to turn.

Then she remembered a spirited, young Episcopal priest who was new in town. She walked into his office and told her story of helping the sick in obedience to God, but that she had spent everything on their care. "Could you help?" "What in the world do you want me to do?" he asked. She had no idea how much to ask for, so she slapped a piece of paper in his hand and said, "You can start by paying the milk bill." And he did.

Many years later, this priest became a very powerful, influential bishop who distinguished himself in ministries of service. It was through his vision and promotion that a huge Christian medical center came into being. But it never would have been had it not been for the vision he had years before when a fiery, red-haired nurse told how her love for God led her to care for those society considered insignificant.

So goes the story. The things we consider significant, often aren't. But the little, overlooked, seemingly insignificant acts into which we pour ourselves, because God has poured himself out for us, can become the most significant of all.

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