Homily November 8, 2009
Dorothy Pohlman

I Kings 17:8-16
Hebrews 9:24-28
Psalm 146
Mark 12:35a, 37b, 38-44

I mentioned to Ellen that I was writing a homily. She said I could just reuse my one from June, and retitle it “We’re still tired.” But I decided not to.

As I was reading these lessons, especially I Kings and Mark, about the widows, I thought, these are wonderfully familiar. I have heard often about how God takes care of those who give their all to him. I have been taking Yvette’s class at the Servant Leadership School about reading the Bible with the marginalized in mind. These lessons fit so well into that, in a comforting way, that they are almost not a challenge. God blesses the widow who feeds Elijah; Jesus praises the widow and condemns those who prey on her.

But I wanted to find something new to say, so I read several sermons on line. Most focused on the widow’s mite, and were about stewardship. Do we give from our plenty, or do we give our all? Basically, they seemed repetitive and trite. One sermon took a different tack and suggested that Jesus was not praising the widow who gave her last two coins, but was commenting on and condemning the structure of the temple that expected little of the rich — while praising them — and expected much of the poor — while not caring for them. The teachers of the law even devour widow’s houses.

But I didn’t think that approach brought anything new to us. We have spent much of our life work and worship time on how the structures around us favor the rich and penalize the poor.
Rather, I would like to say something that would challenge us, and our assumptions about how we live the gospel.

Throughout the Bible, Old Testament and New, we find teachings on caring for the widows and orphans, for the strangers among us. In the Old Testament, written to a chosen people, the responsibilities of the government, of the structures toward the marginalized – the widows, orphans and strangers — are spelled out. In the New Testament, Jesus seems to put aside the government as irrelevant. After all, he was living in “occupied territory” with the Romans in charge. The few times questions were raised about the government, his response seems to be “It’s not about them, it’s about you.”

Instead, he focused on the spiritual life of his listeners. Of course, spiritual overlaps with practical, because they are intertwined in our lives, as we live out our beliefs. Jesus addressed the Temple structures because the Temple was intended to be the center of the spiritual lives of the people and had been twisted, as structures so often are, to support those in power.

But Jesus also, simply addressed those who listened to him. He healed, he cared for people, he fed people, he loved them. Through his actions, he let people know that their ordinary concerns were important to him, and so he taught us how to live.

We are living in a country that is not occupied, and with a government for which we bear some responsibility. So working to help assure that the government remembers those who are marginalized is important and good work. But I think there is a slippery slope that can make us ignore other parts of the gospel. 

We work for “peace and justice”; we are a “peace and justice” church. Those are sometimes code words for — we are liberal or progressives; we are the only “side” that works for those causes; the conservatives — both political and religious, are not interested in these issues.

I believe there can be arrogance in that approach that we must be really careful of. In last Sunday’s homily our friend mentioned that he was driven too much by judgement of others when he focused on justice, and not enough by love of others. Obviously, there is nothing wrong with working for “peace and justice.” Nor is there anything wrong with identifying ourselves as such a church. But if we think that our methods are the only right ones, our blinders will keep us from learning from one another. There may be more than one way to a goal.

The approach we mostly follow has to do with working to ensure that the government is structured in such a way as to help the marginalized. It seems at times that we are acting out of political philosophy or out of duty or out of an intellectual understanding of Biblical teachings. I would like to challenge us to use a different measure: Are we acting out of love? I refer, as was done last Sunday, to Dunstan’s comment from a few weeks ago that there cannot be justice without love.

In some other churches or political beliefs the help offered is more personal. I know of one woman who is supported in part by her church — they have paid utility bills, helped with the rent, and so on. Bob’s niece talked to me about the specific help her church gives to single mothers who are struggling for support of all kinds. They help financially, but also through loaning cars, providing child care and support groups. Sometimes we may need to simply help people, rather than focusing on the “cause.”

Maybe that’s one of the reasons that our marginalized family has landed in our laps. It takes us out of the theoretical into the personal. Does this family, who have faces, names and smiles, have enough food or a roof over their head? This is a situation we cannot (at least in the immediate) turn over to the “system” to fix. We have to be involved. Or we have to choose not to be. We have to choose whether to give time and money to this family, or give it to organizations that work with many families. But there is something wrong, in my opinion, with always preferring the abstract. Jesus did not heal everyone who was ill. He healed those who were in front of him and who asked for help. He didn’t set up a structure or a clinic. He simply told 70 of his followers to spread the gospel and heal the ill.

Now, what does all this have to do with today’s lessons, you may ask. Elijah shows how a poor, starving widow, by obeying the prophet — and thus God — is fed and taken care of. The psalm talks about how the Creator keeps promises, helps widows & orphans and protects strangers. Mark talks about how the rich and powerful flaunt their wealth and false spirituality while preying on those same widows. We choose which side we will be on daily. And we choose it in the details of how we live, how we love, and how we show that love; we don’t choose it only in our belief systems or political theory. 

We are the hands that God works through when he fulfills the promises in the Psalm to feed the hungry, help the widows and orphans, and protect the stranger. I would challenge us to focus on the love behind justice, on the love behind peace. We are called to act personally and in love.

Amen