Out of Our Abundance
Rev. Emily Wilmarth, First Presbyterian Church of Highlands
Sunday, November 8, 2015
Mark 12:38-44
My guess is the story of the widow and her two copper coins is familiar to many of you. Perhaps
you’ve heard it during stewardship season, used to illustrate the example of generous giving we
should all live up to. Certainly, we can read the story that way. The widow, who has absolutely
nothing, gives all she has for her temple offering. It’s an amazing sacrifice. It seems to reveal
total obedience, complete devotion. Would that we could all give that way.
But maybe reading this text in a way that puts the widow on a pedestal does more damage
than good. First of all, I’m not sure any of us – and definitely not me – are willing to write a
check for all that we have and drop it in the offering plate today. If we look at the widow and
see ourselves as failures in the eyes of God because we cannot give all we have, like she does,
we might be tempted to quit while we’re ahead.
Second, if all we do is applaud the widow for her ability to give all she has, then we fail her, and
anyone who walks in her shoes. The widow represents the powerless of society. In Jesus’ day,
husband-less women with no children had no one to support them. Widows were destitute.
Throughout scripture, widows are named specifically as the ones we should watch out for and
defend. Jesus is right when he says that she gave to the treasury all she had to live on. The
widow – or anyone today who barely has two coins to rub together – demands more than our
admiration for their faithful obedience. Because our admiration will not feed her, house her,
pay for her medications, or even her funeral.
Instead, the widow demands our acute attention. Her giving, and her whole living, demand that
we see her, just as Jesus does. It’s likely that the scribes, in contrast to Jesus, take little notice of
the widow. They are too busy in their long robes, doing their best to appear pious, enjoying life
in the places of honor. Why would they care that the widow dropped two, inconsequential
coins into the coffers?
But Jesus sees, and Jesus understands what it means for her to give so completely. He, of
anyone, understands her sacrifice.
I had never really thought about it before, but I noticed this week that Jesus does not offer any
commentary on the widow’s choice to give all she has. He doesn’t say, “Isn’t it great, y’all, that
she’s so generous? Why can't you be more like her?” Nor does he say, “Out of her poverty she
has given all she has, all she had to live on. What the heck was she thinking? How will she live?”
Jesus simply observes, on behalf of his followers, the reality he sees. The wealthy give large
offerings out of their abundance, while out of her poverty, the widow gives all.
Something else I had never really thought hard about is the nature of the scribes’ behavior. It’s
very easy to condemn them for not observing what we have the advantage of seeing through
Jesus’ eyes. The truth is, they probably thought they were living and leading on the path of
righteousness. They probably thought they were obedient to what their tradition had told them
was good and right and God’s will. They were likely caught up in a system that they knew well,
and that served them well. It was a system that made them blind to the needs of the poor
widow.
I will tell you something true: many people believe that their religious leaders exist on a higher
plane of righteousness. They shouldn’t, because we’re all merely human, but they do. I know
this because I have experienced it. I will also say that it would not be a huge leap to start
believing the words people say, to live as though one were holier than one’s parishioners. It’s
not hard to imagine that the scribes’ behavior grew to fit the assumptions people made about
them, and that they likely grew to believe about themselves.
There is a concept called “moral self-licensing” wherein moral behavior in the past makes
people more likely to do potentially immoral things without worrying about feeling or
appearing immoral. Researchers at Stanford looked into this notion, exploring all of the
research on the subject, and suggested that: “moral self-licensing occurs because good deeds
make people feel secure in their moral self-regard.” i They explain: “when people are confident
that their past behavior demonstrates compassion, generosity, or a lack of prejudice, they are
more likely to act in morally dubious ways without fear of feeling heartless, selfish, or bigoted.”
Another way to think about this behavior moves beyond the social scope. Have you ever tried
dieting? The idea translates in the same way. Someone might make a decision to start a healthy
regimen on Monday, and so they chow down on Sunday. Merely the decision to do the right
thing grants us permission to misbehave.
For decades, researchers have been looking into this phenomenon of moral self- licensing,
demonstrating that in in areas of social justice, altruism, and even consumer choices, people
who believe they are good people, and have demonstrated compassion, fairness, or generosity
in the past -or even believe that they would behave that way if faced with the circumstancemake choices that reveal the exact opposite. Moral self-licensing is not limited to what the
outside world thinks of us; we don’t necessarily make good or bad choices solely based on what
we perceive others will see. Licensing also “permits” people to think of their good deeds as a
moral credit, as if in a bank of morality. When people feel they have enough good credits, they
allow themselves to exhibit immoral behaviors.
I suspect that the scribes were as prone to moral self-licensing as any of us. I suspect that on
some level, they believed they were good, moral, and righteous leaders. Comfortable in that
belief, it’s easy to see how they could have failed to see any means of changing the system that
kept the widow in her state of poverty.
It’s true that Jesus doesn’t judge the widow’s action as good or bad. But he tells the disciples,
and he tells us about it for a reason. I think Jesus wants us to notice her. I think he wants us to
stop and observe and actually see the ones we might otherwise miss. These are the ones who
need the most from us. These are the widows, the orphans, the destitute, the people who
actually live in poverty. Jesus calls us to fix our sights beyond the limits of the systems we are
used to living in; the systems that oppress, that ignore, that malign the poor.
In my experience, our church makes many efforts to see, to feed, to house, to quench the
thirst, to advocate for many who live in poverty. This congregation has a commitment to give a
hefty portion of its financial resources away to help people in need.
But we can never let the work we do stack up like moral credit in the righteousness bank. We
can never let our generosity in and of itself stand for our discipleship. We must always be on
the lookout for the ways people suffer - in heart, in mind, in body - and the ways we can help
alleviate that suffering. We must always ask ourselves how the systems we live in, and
participate in, keep people in places of suffering. And we must always ask ourselves what we
have to give in order to help others live in abundance.
Someone once said that the kingdom of God is “life consciously lived in the presence of God.”ii
When we live consciously in God’s presence, we discover how precious a gift life is, and when
we follow Jesus, we know we must eventually give our life away. When we give, we experience
a freedom, a grace. It’s not always easy, living consciously in the presence of God. But when we
do, sacrificing our lives on behalf of others becomes second nature. I think the widow knew
this. I know Jesus does.
This last week I have been reading a little book written by the late Steve Hayner, who served as
president of Columbia Theological Seminary in Atlanta, and his wife, Sharol. Called Joy in the
Journey: Finding Abundance in the Shadow of Death, the book is a compilation of the messages
the couple posted on their Caring Bridge website during the nine months between Steve’s
cancer diagnosis and his death.
Steve and Sharol take turns updating their friends and family on Steve’s health, while also
reflecting openly and honestly about all facets of their experience. They write about the
exhausting physical toll chemotherapy takes on Steve, to hard conversations with their family
and friends, to even the awkwardness of losing hair and losing weight. They share their
frustrations with decision making about treatment and the disruption of not knowing their
future.
Yet, all throughout their writings and reflections, both Steve and Sharol share a deep peace.
They describe, of all things, joy, as they walk through this tragic experience. They constantly
look to God to guide them, and it is clear through their writing that they rely completely,
absolutely fully, on grace to sustain them. For example, Sharol describes embracing the
experience of living on the receiving end of caregiving. She writes, “In a season where we are
majoring in receiving rather than in giving or serving, I had to admit that God is inviting me to
simply open my hands and receive the life, the gifts and the peace that God wants to give me.
It’s a place of humility. It’s a place of gratitude. But it’s also a place of profound joy. I can only
say thank you.”iii
At one point in Steve’s treatment, he received good news from the doctors. He writes,
Today’s conversation with the doctor suggests that I might have longer to enjoy this life
than we were originally expecting. I may indeed get to participate in another
Christmas…I may be able to complete more of the items on my end-of-life lists. But
whether I do or do not is clearly not the point. I don’t get to choose the finish line. But I
can choose how I will run this portion of the race – and whether I am willing to sing the
song that God has placed in my heart for this day…I can choose gratitude over
complaint, and grace over fear. I can choose to grieve by turning my face toward God
rather than my back.”iv
To be honest, I wasn’t sure I wanted to read their book, because I am not sure I could live
through such a challenge with such faithful discipleship. I don’t know that I could be so
generous with my spirit in a time of physical and emotional suffering. The idea of staring down
death scares me, and I don’t know that I could so easily and openly and seflessly trust in the
grace of God.
But, what I have found instead is a compelling, inspiring, and transformative lesson. I’ve
thought about the hardships I would rather complain about and realized I have too little control
over the inevitable and too much good in my life not to live in joy.
What does this have to do with the widow and her coins? I think it is a lesson in poverty and
abundance. The Hayners could have lived through Steve's final days without noticing God's
presence. They could have held tightly to anguish and despair. But they didn't.
I’m thankful for the abundance out of which the Hayners share their story. I’m grateful for how
fully they gave of themselves in the toughest time of their lives. I’m grateful that through their
words, I can see what I might give the world in all times, and in all circumstances, good or bad.
Their words, their lives, are a generous gift to those who suffer, and to those afraid of suffering.
A commentator pointed out that the widow who gives so fully of herself foreshadows Jesus’
impending sacrifice.v In all ways, Jesus gave fully of himself. It’s how God gives. Fully, wholly,
without holding back. It’s how disciples give, too.
i
http://wwwpsych.stanford.edu/~monin/papers/Merritt,%20Effron%20%26%20Monin%202010%20Compas
s%20on%20Moral%20Licensing.pdf
ii Andrew Prior, “The Trickle Down Theory of Church, on One Man’s Web,
https://onemansweb.org/dystopia-tragedy-or-glory-mark-12-38-44.html
iii Steve and Sharol Hayner, Joy in the Journey: Finding Abundance in the Shadow of Death. (IVP
Books, 2015), 70-71.
iv
Ibid., 89.
Karoline Lewis, “Whole Life Living” on Dear Working Preacher, 11/1/15,
http://www.workingpreacher.org/craft.aspx?post=3717
v