Christ Episcopal Church
November 8, 2015
27 Proper B
When I was in high school, our youth group took a trip to Six Flags over Texas, an amusement park. We had washed cars, raked leaves, and sold candy bars all year to raise the money for this trip. We boarded a bus on a Friday night, arrived at Six Flags on Saturday morning where we spent the day riding the rides, and then got back on the bus and arrived home Sunday morning. Riding the bus at night saved money on overnight accommodations, and all of our waking hours could be spent riding rides. My friends talked me into riding the roller coaster, which I am sure was fairly tame by today's standards. "You will love it," they said. Against my better judgement, I agreed. The ride only lasted 90 seconds. How bad could that be? Once we got in the cart, were strapped in, and the safety bar had been lowered across the seat, the train started slowly up a steep incline. "This is not so bad," I thought. And then, the bottom fell out. The roller coaster descended at an alarming rate. I could hear people screaming, but I couldn't breathe, much less scream. I was holding on for dear life, but in the brief moment I had my eyes open, I could see others with their arms up in the air, eyes open, and their screams seemed to be happy screams. Apparently, the way to enjoy a roller coaster is to let go and trust the safety bar, but I was having nothing of that. I shut my eyes, tried to breathe, and held on for dear life for a very long 90 seconds. And I promised God that if God would just get me off that roller coaster alive, I would never, ever get on a roller coaster again. And for all the promises I struggle with, I have kept that promise to God. No problem!
This morning we hear the story commonly known as the story of the widow's mite. I always wonder what the poor widow was thinking when she put into the treasury what was, according to Jesus, her last two coins. Because if Jesus is right, and those really were her last two coins, I am hard pressed to think the widow was anything other than foolish. Not that the two copper coins were going to get her very far, but at least they were something. I wonder if the widow at the treasury reminded the disciples of the widow of Zarephath in 1 Kings. In that story, the widow is down to nothing but a little bit of olive oil and flour when Elijah asks her for some water and a little bit of bread. The widow tells Elijah that she is gathering sticks for a fire so she can go home and make a meal for herself and her son, and then they will lie down to die. Then Elijah says to the widow "Do not be afraid. Go home and do as you have said. But first make a small loaf of bread for me from what you have and bring it to me. Then make something for yourself and your son. For this is what the Lord, the God of Israel says ‘The jar of flour will not be used up and the jar of oil will not run dry until the day the Lord sends rain to the land.'" And, indeed, that is exactly what happened.
But Jesus does not tell us what happened to the widow who put all that she had into the treasury, and he does not even tell us that what she did was right. He only says that she has put in more than all the rich people because she put in everything. The rich people had put in out of their abundance, and she had put in out of her poverty.
I wonder if Jesus is teaching us about the difference between living our lives while holding on for dear life, and living our lives letting go. Before the widow put her last two coins in the treasury, we saw the scribes who like to walk around in long robes and be greeted in the market places, and to have the best seats in the synagogues and places of honor at banquets. The scribes seem to be people who want to hold on to what they have, in part, perhaps, because those long robes, best seats, and places of honor gave them their identity. And I imagine they like that identity, so they hold on to it. On the other hand, the poor widow lets go of everything, down to her two last coins, so she has to be defined by something else. She has nothing to rely on but God, so her identity comes from that relationship. And if, indeed, we are meant to remember the widow at Zarephath, we know that the offering of her last two coins will not be the end of the widow's story.
When we give out of our abundance, we still have plenty to hold on to. When we give out of our poverty, we have to let go and rely on God. I do not think this story calls us to give our every last coin to the temple. I do think this passage calls us to think about what we hold onto so tightly because we have so little, and to let go of even that little bit. For many of us, perhaps our poverty is that of time. We feel like we have so little time that we have to hold onto it and manage what we have down to the last nanosecond. The way we manage our time tells us a lot about who we are. What if we were to let go of our hold on time, or whatever our poverty might be? Rather than hold on so tightly that we cut off circulation to our fingers, forget to breathe, and fail to open our eyes, what if we, like the widow, let go? What happens if we throw our arms up in the air, open our eyes, and let ourselves be exhilarated by the ride? Perhaps Jesus is telling us that only by letting go, and giving out of our poverty, whatever that poverty might be, can we really enjoy the ride as children of God.
Amen.
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