| Note: No sermon is quite the same when you read it. You miss the inflections, the expression that you gain in the hearing. The words below are only a close approximation of the sermon, taken from handwritten notes. Nevertheless, the words (as best as can be deciphered!) are shared with you here. The Webmeister |
Twenty-third Sunday after Pentecost As As I stood in the Parish Hall exactly one week ago locked into a bidding war during our live auction with David Tucker, Chris Iguh, Neel Bonner, and Ben Okigbo over a football signed by our own Joseph Addai, I had to stop for a minute and think to myself: what I am doing? Eight hundred dollars for a football? Nine hundred dollars for a football? On any other day, I would say, I don't care if Jesus signed it, I'm still not buying it. But a week ago it made sense. The football was being auctioned to raise money to help fund this church, and all of the ministries that are offered here. But even though Ben eventually outbid me for the football, I already have a plan for next year. My plan is to get not only Joseph to sign one of his jerseys, but to also get the Colts quarterback, Peyton Manning, to sign something as well. Why not? They start together on the offense, and by the way, their team is the only undefeated team in the entire NFL thus far. But I'm a priest, and not John Madden, so I'll turn to Bible instead of football, aware that in some counties in Texas the two are probably considered equal. Today we are told two stories of two different widows, apparently widows are better at giving than their married counterparts are, at least in the Bible. But I digress. In the Old Testament reading from 1 Kings, a widow meets the prophet Elijah and prepares a meal for him, even though she barely has anything to eat for her or her son. And in the Gospel reading from Mark, another widow drops all she has, two small coins, into the treasury, or offering basket, in the temple at Jerusalem. Both of these stories are about true giving. Giving that is sacrificial and reckless. They are stories about giving everything when you have little to give in the first place. Imagine, for a moment, having all the money and things you could possibly want. If you were even that fortunate, you would still be at a loss because it would mean that if you gave a gift to someone, it would not be much of a sacrifice. It's not hard to give when you have everything you need. And so for that reason the gift wouldn't have much substance. But a gift has true power when it is given sacrificially. When giving that gift means giving up something of yourself. Those gifts seem to be the greatest and the most memorable; the gifts given to us sacrificially by another are the gifts we tend to hold onto most. Recently in our house, my wife and I have decided to go on a new budget, where we're each given a set amount of money to last us through the week for incidental purchases: things like books, Starbucks (I never drank coffee until I started working here), or that kind of thing. Early on, my wife used her money sacrificially, using it to take us both out to dinner and pay for my meal. Now that gesture means much more to me since we have a limited amount of money we choose to spend each week, and she's made the decision to spend some of hers on me. Real giving is sacrificial. And real giving is also reckless. The widow in the Gospel gives two coins, all that she had to her name. She doesn't place one into the treasury, and save the other, something we might be inclined to do. Her giving is reckless. She gives it all. And so does the woman who prepares the meal out of her meager pantry for the hungry prophet Elijah. Real giving is reckless. That's why we do things around here like this past Sunday where we bid on something like a harvest basket of produce. Anyone can go to an African market and pick up that kind of produce with relative ease and with minimal expense, but that's not the point. The point is to give recklessly: to bid on a basket of produce you could get for much cheaper at the market because you are giving. Reckless giving is fun, that's why there were smiles on the faces of those who bid on the basket and on Cecilia Okoye, who won. That's why there were smiles on the faces of people who bid and won the boat trip, not only because they gave money joyfully and sacrificially and recklessly to the church, but also because they knew that Bob Brewer was going to haul his Grand piano on the boat and play as the boat steams across Trinity Bay. Not really, but I wouldn't put it past Bob. It's no surprise to me that the person whom the Gospel hands down to history as an example of true generosity was a person who gave two small coins, something of little to no value in monetary terms. And it also is no surprise to me that the person whom the Old Testament hands down to us as an example of sacrificial and reckless giving is a woman who had barely any food to survive, who prepares a meal for the prophet Elijah. These two widows are our examples of generous giving, not the philanthropists for whom college libraries and public buildings are named for. It is these women. They are the example handed down to us of true giving. And it is their sacrificial, reckless giving that is just an example of the way God gives to us. Like the woman who meets Elijah and prepares a meal from all she has, and the woman who gives her two small coins, God also gives to us from all that God has. God gives to us sacrificially and recklessly in giving to us the greatest gift that has ever been given: God has given us himself. God has given us Jesus. God is our timeless example of true giving; giving from the heart, giving from his self. God is a reckless and sacrificial giver. And occasionally, perhaps even rarely we are able to do the same, whether it is purchasing an autographed football, a boat trip or a harvest basket. When we give sacrificially, when we give recklessly, we are drawing nearer to the God who has already given himself to us. Amen. The Reverend James M. L. Grace August 20, 2006 *Past sermons may be found here. |
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