Tag: Widow’s Mite

Sermon: Changing the Story

The widow in this morning’s reading from Luke 21 gave those two coins not because it made a speck of difference to the temple. Not because anyone there cared for her – no one did. She gave those coins in spite of the temple and all it stood for, not because of it.

(A Meditation on the Story of the Widow’s Mite)

I recently learned that many who watch sermon videos online watch the introduction, then skip to the end for the conclusion. … (I’m sure no one here does that!) … But it’s understandable. I mean, everyone has too much to do and not enough time to do it in.  So, why not just skip all that stuff in the middle …  get done quicker?

In conclusion…

Well, before I get to the conclusion, I’d really like to talk a bit about this morning’s readings. The story of the Widow’s Mite teaches us that God honors faithful gifts, no matter how small, no matter what they are, no matter what size they are. It’s the size of the faith that matters, not the size of the gift. 

Another point we sometimes overlook is that the Widow’s two tiny coins mark the end of her life. She had almost nothing left to give; but she gave anyway. After that, there was nothing left not even her life. Her journey had reached its conclusion.

This story also marks the closing of Jesus’ ministry. He never taught in public again. He had given everything he could. He also had nothing left to give except his life. They were both done, both at the end of their journey, both ready for the next step. And, they both knew it.

And yes, these are important lessons. But Luke is teaching us about more than just this. He shows us that all that we have, all that we can give, already belongs to God. He teaches that we are called to bless and support others with what God has blessed us with.

We’ve all heard that lesson many times, it can be found everywhere in the Scriptures. Our willingness and motivation for giving is what matters. It’s not about how much treasure we give, or even whether anyone notices.

Luke speaks of the magnificence of the temple. But, it is the widow’s action, done in good faith, that matters – not the temple.

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A Mite in the Emptiness (II)

There’s a tiny island about halfway up the western coast of Scotland. It’s a small, desolate place: bare of trees. Ancient rises of eroded granite make up much of the island; covered with a few patches of grass, some flowers and one or two small streams. Many years ago, I journeyed there, taking a ferry to the Island of Mull, then a long meandering bus ride along a single lane road, passing by empty hills and the occasional Scottish farm; and then – finally – a short trip on a ferry to the Island of Iona.

widows-mite-roman-coins_900pxSermon: “A Mite in the Emptiness”
Presented at Centre Congregational Church, UCC in Brattleboro, VT
August 18, 2013
Scripture: Mark 12:38-44

SCRIPTURE READING…

This morning’s reading comes from the Gospel of Mark chapter 12, verse 38 through chapter 13 verse 2.  In it, Jesus condemns the scribes, tells the story of the Widow’s Mite and prophesies the destruction of the temple.  It is part of a sequence of vignettes in Mark that deal with Jesus teaching in the Temple about the Messiah, the coming of the end times, and what can be done to assure oneself of salvation.

As you hear these words, ask yourself how these stories, particularly the story of the widow and her mite, fit in with Mark’s themes.

Continue reading “A Mite in the Emptiness (II)”

A Mite in The Emptiness

Presented at Sudbury Memorial Church, UCC, Nov 11, 2012
Scripture: Mark 12:38-13:2

There’s a tiny island about halfway up the western coast of Scotland.  It’s a small, desolate place: bare of trees, covered mostly with scrub and sand.  Ancient rises of eroded granite make up much of the island; covered with a few patches of grass, some flowers and one or two small streams.  Many years ago, I journeyed there, taking a ferry to the Island of Mull, then a long meandering bus ride along a single lane road, passing by empty hills and the occasional farm; and then – finally – a short boat ride to the Island of Iona.

I wandered there for a few hours, strolling out of the village, past the monastery and its ancient graveyard: broken and fallen stones marking the anonymous graves of ancient heroes, kings and saints.  I passed sheep grazing under the bright blue sky, then crossed the narrow island, arriving at an ancient stony hill overlooking a small beach that faced the vastness of the Ocean.

There I sat, meditating for a long while, remembering the monks who came there nearly 1500 years ago, and their long labor to bring the Gospel back to much of Europe.  Their labors ended what we now know as the “Dark Ages” that followed the collapse of the Roman Empire.  I thought of the many Scottish luminaries that history tells us are buried in the graveyard I’d passed, including Duncan and Macbeth.  I remembered reading about the monastery’s destruction by the Vikings; then it’s re-establishment in the 12th century, only to be abandoned again during the Reformation, and finally reborn in the 20th Century as a community dedicated to working for Peace and Justice.

I sat on that windswept hill, enveloped by the sound of the waves breaking on the shore, the smell of sea and flowers, the seabirds calling, the wind whispering among the sand and grass.  A sense of awe and majesty surrounded and filled me as I sat there, alone in that empty place, pondering my own uncertain future.

Continue reading “A Mite in The Emptiness”