Proper 27 Year B 2024: Mark 12:38-44

If you have spent any time on the internet, it will not surprise you to hear there is a corner of social media that is occupied by clergy asking one another for thoughts on a variety of topics. Sometimes that space is really helpful and affirming and sometimes it is the Bad Place. Last Sunday afternoon, a colleague asked clergy Facebook what sermon they think people will want to hear the Sunday after the election. And many other colleagues were mostly saying things about how we should all get along, find common purpose, how do we move forward together, etc. My friend Fr. Sam is on parental leave and going a little stir crazy without preaching for several weeks. His outline for a sermon on leaving your election sticker on your shirt, sending it through the wash, and ruining the shirt was…a lot. He texted me, “I know I'm not preaching next Sunday because of Leave but...I think all those fools are wrong. Can you imagine if your candidate loses and you think America is doomed? You don't wanna hear let's all get along. The sermon for next Sunday, whoever wins, is Resurrection. Thank God we are going to die. Don't give me hope for the future of the US! Give me Hope that there's a God of Judgment and there will be a Reckoning.”

While I agree with Fr. Sam, I take issue with the prompt itself, “What sermon people think they will want to hear.” Because it isn’t my job to give the sermon people want to hear. Each and every one of us knows pretty much which corner of the internet to go to, which podcast to listen to, which cable news channel to flip to, to find what it is we want to hear. It is the job of the preacher to listen to where the Spirit is calling us through the text, not asking what we want to say but rather what we need to say. One of my favorite reflections I’ve heard on homiletics is that a good sermon comforts the afflicted and afflicts the comfortable.

That is what happens in our Gospel lesson today. In Chapter 11 Jesus cleansed the temple, driving out the money changers. He then went out of the city for five verses, came again into the temple, and then taught in the temple for the entirety of Chapter 12. Today’s text ends Chapter 12, after which Jesus exits the temple, looks back at it, and predicts its destruction.

Mark, today, tells a story where Jesus denounces the scribes, particularly their treatment of economically vulnerable widows - who are among those that the Law is particularly explicit about helping. Mark follows that story with another about one of those economically vulnerable widows. There are two typical ways in which the story of the widow’s offering is interpreted. One of those ways comforts the afflicted. The other afflicts the comfortable.

For our comforting interpretation, we look to Jesus’ words about the widow. She put into the treasury two coins of the smallest denomination minted in Judea at the time - those two coins were equivalent to the smallest denomination of Roman coinage. The amount equated to one sixty-fourth of a laborer’s daily wage. The amount she put in the treasury was the smallest amount possible. But it wasn’t small for her. Through this interaction Jesus acknowledges that what you have to give is enough. That you are enough and your gift is noticed and welcomed by God. We take comfort in the knowledge that God sees us and God hears us, and our God is a God of hope.

Our afflicting interpretation is everything surrounding Jesus’ interaction with the widow. Why was she destitute? Why was she in a situation where she could have so little? Why didn’t anyone notice that she needed assistance? When the Law is so clear about the obligation of everyone in that temple - she’s not just on the street, she is in the temple - to remember the orphan and the widow, why did she seem to be forgotten - almost invisible?

We, as people, tend to sort ourselves into our own “affinity groups”. While the internet has made it easier for us to find our people in an affirming way, it has also made it easier for us to tune out those who are not like us. And when we never have to spend any time with people who don’t see the world in the same way as we do, it’s easy to minimize, caricaturize, and then dismiss them. There were rich people in that temple - Jesus points them out. Surely they saw one another. I bet they greeted each other. It makes me wonder why they didn’t see their suffering sister in their midst. While Jesus does not explicitly call them out, the implication is quite clear.

One of the things I had to learn as an adult was how to be a better sport regarding sports. Growing up in Lincoln where the majority of the culture focused on and backed Nebraska football, I didn’t really have to learn how to interact with folks who cheer differently than me. Sure, we were nice to opposing fans, we’d give them directions downtown, but we’d also almost always win. They weren’t people we had conflicts with or had to live with. We didn't have conversations with them beyond “hey, good to see you, the stadium’s that way, good game”. But now I have friends with a variety of rooting interests and when I see David having a heartbreaking loss I can think, “I should text David” or when I see Ole Miss stay out of their own way I can think, “all is well in William's world.” And while I know it’s just sports, sports can reflect life in a lot of ways. And one of those ways is that if you only surround yourself with people like you, then you aren’t going to have the skills to empathize with those who have different experiences.

A well-loved preaching cliche is to preach with the Bible in one hand and the newspaper in the other. I get what it’s trying to say, but I disagree with the suggestion that we ought to give the newspaper equal consideration to our sacred text. Yes, the paper should be on the table. We should be aware that it exists. Because we don’t exist in a vacuum. And, we don’t come to church for protection from the outside world. We come for preparation to live our faith in the outside world. That’s why our font is between the altar and the door. We come past our font to the rail to renew our baptisms every week, to receive comfort and affliction, each according to the direction in which we need to be nudged.

But the church is not just about me individually or you individually. We are called to notice each other. Notice who might be hurting and help them. I’m big on reminding us to ask for help, and that remains true, but I can’t help but notice that in this text Jesus doesn’t give any instructions. He makes observations about how God’s people are behaving and acting from their hearts and awareness. How the scribes pay no attention to and neglect the poor while reveling in their station in life. For paying so little attention that they let someone who they should be helping put the last of what she had in the temple treasury. How the rich people are satisfied giving out of their abundance while walking blindly past the destitute woman who gave out of her poverty. This text is inviting us to pay attention. To notice one another - not just those who are like us. To spend time together. To comfort the afflicted. Amen.