He lumbered towards me--

dirty...

smelly...

unkempt...

with tatty clothes--

and, in a slightly slurred voice, he asked if I could spare some small change...

because he wanted to get something to eat.

"Sorry, I don't have any"--

it was an instinctive response but, in reality, quite untrue.

I did have some change.

But I didn't want to give it to him...

because I knew that he would only use it to buy another drink at the pub.

I had seen him do it.

And I had been approached like this so many times before.

And yet, part of me still felt uneasy.

Somewhere, at the back of my head, there was this nagging little voice--

a voice of guilt--

saying that, as Christians, we're meant to be compassionate;

we're meant to help those less fortunate;

we're meant to give and to be generous.

Aren't we?

And this morning's reading from Mark's Gospel only serves to rub that in.

First of all, there's Jesus' condemnation of the wealthy scribes--

people who make a huge show of their religious devotion...

but who are, in reality, hypocrites... 

because their religion doesn't really influence the way that they live.

Despite their religious show, they're actually engaged in exploitation...

because their affluence comes from the oppression of the socio-economically vulnerable-- 

from people, such as widows, who could no longer make ends meet.

So, these scribes would make a show of lending them money--

just to tide them through--

but, of course, the widows couldn't repay it...

especially without husbands to work or contribute...

and so they would end up forfeiting what little they owned.

 

Well, if you're anything like me, your first response is to ask...

'Am I like them?

Am I like these scribes?

Is my faith a mere sham?

Do I say all of the right things...

do I appear outwardly pious and upright...

but, in reality, I'm cold, callous, and uncaring?'

After all, I didn't give anything to that dirty, smelly, unkempt beggar.

And just when I'm beginning to feel bad about myself, Mark's Jesus continues.

He observes rich people giving large sums to the temple...

when a poor widow enters...

comes forward...

and sheepishly drops in her two small copper coins--

an absolute pittance.

But, Jesus exclaims...

"Truly I tell you, this poor widow has put in more than all those who are contributing to the treasury. For all of them have contributed out of their abundance; but she out of her poverty has put in everything she had, all she had to live on".

In the scheme of things, most of us are like those rich people, aren't we?

We really do have plenty--

certainly in comparison to so many in our world, who lack the basic necessities of life;

but even in comparison to many within our own society.

And we're good at giving handouts that seldom really cost us.

Not personally.

Not in a meaningful way.

So the action of this poor widow stands as a shameful reminder...

because she was so willing to give everything because of her faith and commitment--

because of her piety--

which stands in stark contrast to all the rich people.

She shows up their greed even though, effectively, she only put in a couple of cents.

Because, relatively speaking, it was worth so much more...

since it was all that she had to live on.

It's all that she had.

Period.

 

But wait a minute! 

Take note!

Mark's Jesus doesn't actually offer any word of approval.

There's no praise of her piety or devotion.

There's no assurance that God will reward her for her actions--

let alone that God will provide for her needs now that she has nothing left.

And there's certainly no exhortation to emulate her behaviour-

as if this were a model of discipleship;

as if Jesus' followers were expected to follow suit.

There's none of that.

Rather, Jesus' words are simply a statement of fact.

This is what she has done.

Relatively speaking, she has put in more than all of the rest...

because she has given all that she had to live on...

and, presumably, she is now completely destitute.

And Jesus seems to highlight that in the original Greek; literally...

"She, out of her poverty, has put in everything she had, all she had to live on".

Rather than a sense of admiration or praise--

it's more a sense of amazement or disbelief.

And there's certainly an implied criticism:

whatever would possess a poor widow to do such a thing--

to give away her last few cents to the Temple?

 

Well, presumably, she was trying to pay her temple tax--

the amount that all Israelites were expected to give for the Temple's upkeep...

and for the maintenance of its priests.

But to expect that of someone like her was wrong.

It was, simply, another form of extortion or oppression.

It's no coincidence that...

immediately prior to the widow's offering...

the author has Jesus accuse the scribes--

the religious leadership-- 

of extorting and oppressing widows. 

That accusation is meant to frame how we interpret the widow's gift.

The hypocritically pious scribes are guilty of extortion and oppression;

but so, too, is the whole Temple-system and its establishment.

The fact that she feels obligated to make this sort of blind sacrifice is an indictment.

It's a clear example of 'official' exploitation...

dressed up in religious ideology... 

and, no doubt, reinforced by religious guilt.

Thus, Jesus' saying appears to be a complaint.

It's a condemnation of a system that conditions someone like her to give everything.

Like the scribes, organised religion has robbed this woman of her means of livelihood...

it has ceased to protect this poor widow...

despite all of the injunctions in the Old Testament to do so;

and despite all of the claims that what God desires...

more than anything... 

is compassion for widows and orphans in their distress.

 

As such, this story is not trying to shame us about how we give.

This story is actually an indictment of a religious system that abuses and manipulates by guilt--

a system that oppresses the most marginal and vulnerable...

that places undue burdens on them...

that robs them of the opportunities of life rather than offering comfort... 

or alleviating their need.

This story isn't encouraging us to give beyond our means...

or to make unrealistic commitments or sacrifices...

and certainly not by making us feel guilty.

But it is challenging us to examine our ideology and our practices--

as Church--

and to ask:

Do our religious practices exploit the weak and vulnerable?

Do we use guilt as a means of manipulating people to give of their time, talents, and resources;

or simply to believe that they need religion?

But, more than that, this story asks us to consider...

'Do our religious practices disadvantage the weak?

Are we part of a system that oppresses the marginalised and the vulnerable?

Whoever the weak... 

the marginalised...

the vulnerable... 

or the disadvantaged are for us, today--

be they people on welfare... 

people with disabilities...

HIV/AIDS sufferers...

LGBTI people...

Aboriginal peoples... 

or asylum seekers.

 

"Religion that is pure and undefiled before God, the Father, is this: to care for orphans and widows in their distress".