The Widow’s Mite & The Widow’s Last Bite

Pr. Jasmine Waring |

Pentecost 25 November 10, 2024

Our readings today share the stories of two widows—two women who were invisible in their time, as many marginalized people are today. They had no name, no wealth, no power in the eyes of society. And yet, their stories endure, echoing through the corridors of time, because they reveal profound truths about God’s love for the vulnerable, the systemic injustices that perpetuate inequality, and the kind of radical generosity that can transform the world. These stories speak just as loudly to us today as they did when they were first told. In Mark 12:38-44, we meet a widow in the Temple who gives her last two coins—her mite. The context is critical: Jesus is entering Jerusalem in a triumphal procession, challenging the powers that be, subverting the empire’s might, and cleansing the Temple of its corruption. The Temple, which was supposed to be a place of justice and worship, had become a place of exploitation. Jesus calls out the religious leaders for their greed, their love of status, and their use of faith as a tool for self-enrichment. At the heart of Jesus' message is the love of God and the love of neighbor, but these things were being distorted by the very system meant to uphold them. And then, in the middle of this powerful critique, we see the widow. She has nothing left—no safety net, no resources to rely on. She’s one of the most powerless people in this society. And yet, she gives all that she has—her last two coins, everything she owns. Jesus sees this woman and offers a lesson—not in admiring her generosity, but in pointing out the failure of the system. The rich, he says, give a fraction of their wealth —barely anything—but it’s the poor widow who gives everything. And that, beloveds, is where the injustice lies. Jesus isn’t saying that poverty is a virtue. He’s not glorifying suffering or asking the poor to give until they have nothing left. No. What he’s saying is that the system is broken, that the rich are hoarding wealth, and the poor are being asked to give out of their scarcity, all the while being made to sustain a system that benefits only the powerful. The widow’s mite is an indictment of that system. It’s not a call for more sacrificial giving; it’s a call to dismantle the system that exploits the vulnerable in the first place. This passage challenges us, beloveds, to examine the systems around us. We live in a world that asks the poor to give more and more, while the rich accumulate wealth and power. How can there be justice in such a system? How can there be equity in a world where the wealthiest hoard their resources, and the most vulnerable are left to scrape by? Jesus exposes this injustice—calling us to wake up to the disparity, to recognize how it disfigures God’s vision for the world. God's vision has always been one of abundance. God’s economy is not one of scarcity, but of generosity. The Bible makes it clear, especially in Deuteronomy, that the rich are called to care for the widows, orphans, and immigrants—the very groups who are most vulnerable in society. And yet, in the story of the widow’s mite, we see how the Temple leaders have failed to live up to this mandate. They’ve created a system where the rich give only what they can spare, while the poor are drained dry by it. Jesus isn’t just critiquing the poor widow’s situation—he’s exposing how the Temple leaders have upheld an unjust system. I remember, growing up, watching my single mother give her last few dollars to televangelists who promised that if she gave out of her poverty, God would bless her with abundance. It was a lie—a distortion of the Gospel. The Prosperity Gospel, beloveds, is a false gospel that preaches that wealth and power are signs of God’s favor. It distorts the truth of God’s love and justice. God does not want us to accumulate wealth for ourselves; God’s vision is a world where wealth and resources are shared, where people care for one another, and where everyone has enough. This is the world God dreams for us—a world of justice, not exploitation. A world of beauty, not hoarding. God’s vision for the world is a vision of Beauty. It’s an intense harmony that’s not about accumulation but about the interdependence of creation. It’s a beauty that is found in our mutual care for one another. It’s a beauty that lifts up the weak, the vulnerable, the forgotten, and makes them visible again. The widow’s mite exposes the failure of human systems and calls us back to a vision of shared abundance. But there’s also hope in this story—because Jesus doesn’t just condemn the system. He offers a new way—a way of radical generosity, a way of beauty, a way of justice, where provision is not about what we have, but how we give. In 1 Kings 17:8-16, we hear the story of another widow, this time in the midst of a famine. This famine is a consequence of the nation’s failure to honor God, a result of the leaders leading Israel into idolatry and injustice. And so, God sends Elijah to a widow in Zarephath—a Gentile widow, someone outside of Israel, someone marginalized by society. She has nothing left. She’s preparing to die with her son because she has only a handful of flour and a little oil left. She has no hope—no resources—and yet, she opens her hands to share what she has with Elijah. Even in the face of death, the widow chooses to share. And in that sharing, in that radical hospitality, God steps in. Elijah speaks a word of promise: “The jar of flour will not be used up, and the jug of oil will not run dry.” God’s provision, in the face of scarcity, flows through her act of generosity. This story echoes the message of the widow’s mite—reminding us that even in the midst of scarcity, God’s provision flows through those who give from their lack. The widow’s last bite is a sign that God works through the vulnerable and marginalized to bring about transformation. Even when it seems like all is lost, God’s promise is that provision will not fail. This is God’s economy—the more we share, the more we give, the more God’s abundance flows into the world. So what do these two widows teach us? They teach us that God’s vision for the world is one of beauty, justice, and abundance. They show us that in the face of systemic oppression, God is with the vulnerable. God is with the widow, with the marginalized, with the poor. These women challenge us to ask: What kind of world are we living in? Are we living in a world where the rich hoard their wealth while the poor are asked to give from their scarcity? Or are we working toward a world where we share our resources, where we share in each other’s struggles, and where the powerful use their privilege to lift up those in need? God’s promise is not that we will be wealthy in the way the world defines it. God’s promise is not that we will be powerful in the way the world understands power. God’s promise is that we will have enough—and that enough is always in relationship. It’s in community. It’s in the shared abundance of love, care, and justice. The widow’s mite and the widow’s bite are not just stories about individual generosity —they are symbols of God’s vision for the world. A world where scarcity is transformed into provision, where love overcomes injustice, and where all are fed. Beloveds, may we have the courage to live into this vision of beauty, to stand with the vulnerable, to challenge the systems that perpetuate inequality. And may we trust that when we give—no matter how little—we participate in God’s work of restoration, and God’s beauty is revealed in the world. Amen.

Sermon on John 11:32-44

Pastor Jennifer Garcia

In a culture that glorifies youth and tries to ignore death, All Saints Day is a surprising, and maybe even off-putting, holiday.

We’ve just celebrated Halloween, teased ourselves with the macabre, the eerie, and the grotesque aspects of death, but even then, we largely keep it in the realm of fantasy.

There are many cultures that take time to remember ancestors, such as the Mexican Dia de los Muertos, but on the whole, the dominant US culture doesn’t like to acknowledge death.

We’ve delegated caring for the dying to facilities. We hide our funerals in mortuaries. We spend fortunes on anti-aging serums and detox diets to keep the thought of death at bay for as long as possible.

And yet, here we are, honoring All Saints Sunday. We pause and remember those who have gone before us—those who have died this year and the whole cloud of witnesses throughout time.

And that means we must acknowledge that we, too, will one day be among the cloud of witnesses who will no longer walk this earth as we know it. We, too, will die.

Some of our discomfort with this holiday can be heard in the way we talk about it. We say “Happy Birthday,” and soon we’ll be saying “Happy Thanksgiving,” but “Happy All Saints Day” doesn’t seem quite right…

This is a somber holiday—a memory of who is no longer with us, a recognition of our grief, and an acknowledgment of our mortality.

Even our readings are bittersweet:

Our readings from Isaiah and Revelation are beautiful images of the fulfillment of the Reign of God—a feast, a holy city, tears wiped away. But none of that has come true yet. We still live in a world of pain, sorrow, and death.

And our Gospel reading records the shocking raising of Lazarus from the dead. It’s an astounding sign that takes our breath away.

But Jesus doesn’t come to every grave and command our loved ones to come out and join the living once again. We don’t get to unbind our loved ones and free them like Mary and Martha did.

We’re still at a point where resurrection is a matter of faith and not of sight.

Even at the time of our Gospel story, it was an awe-inspiring event, but it also prompted the authorities to plot to kill Jesus.

Jesus brought Lazarus back from the dead, but he himself would be put to death soon after.

That doesn’t seem so much like something to celebrate.

Then and now, it can seem like death has the upper hand.

But as astounding as it was, our Gospel story isn’t just about Lazarus. The Gospel of John describes seven signs that point to God’s work in the world. From Jesus turning water into wine to raising Lazarus from the dead, it all points to who God is.

1.    Jesus turned water into wine, pointing to the abundance and joy of God’s eternal banquet.

2.    Several signs involved Jesus healing people, pointing to the healing of ourselves and the world.

3.    Jesus fed the multitudes and walked on water, pointing again to God’s eternal banquet and God’s authority over creation.

4.    Finally, Jesus raised Lazarus, pointing to Jesus’ triumph over death itself.

Because, of course, all these signs lead up to Jesus’ death and resurrection.

He himself experienced death and broke its power over us.

And as much as we still live by faith when it comes to resurrection, we do have the stories of Jesus’ defeat of death.

We do have the account of the signs in the Gospel of John, like the raising of Lazarus, leading up to Jesus’ death and resurrection, which tell us what God is like: God is abundant, loving, powerful, generous, and beautiful.

And we do have the glorious depictions throughout scripture of what the fulfillment of the Reign of God will be like: a banquet without end, a peaceful city, a union with God that will dry every tear, where death will have no power.

All our ancestors in faith are cheering us on as we move through this life, putting our trust in the promises of our faithful God.

As much as this is a holiday that celebrates things our society would like to ignore, it’s a powerful holy day.

So, I will wish you a happy and a blessed and a beautiful All Saints Day.

And to mark this occasion, I invite you to share a story of someone who has gone before us.

As Lutherans, we acknowledge that we are all saints and sinners—both at the same time. No one’s perfect, so we can admit what was hard as well as what was beautiful about our relationships with our loved ones and ancestors.

If your story is about someone who was a part of this faith community, I invite you to share your story with us by writing it on one of the slips of paper or emailing it to Terri Robertson to be part of our Stories of Us project. We’re only doing it for one more week, so please send in your stories—meaningful, silly, sweet, or whatever you remember about this congregation.

If your story doesn’t involve this congregation, I would still love to hear it—feel free to call or email me or track me down in a hallway.

One way or another, please share your stories of your loved ones and ancestors. It’s how we honor their legacy and it helps us decide how we want to be remembered in the future.

As we talked about last week, practicing Sabbath helps us slow down enough to reflect. It’s hard to share stories if we have no downtime to remember and talk with one another.

Some of the best conversations happen after dinner when there’s no agenda or at a slumber party when the lights are out but no one’s ready to fall asleep yet.

It’s weird to talk about planning for unscheduled time, but it takes intention in our busy lives to make space for those timeless moments when you remember and imagine and dream with friends and family, or just daydream by yourself.

But that’s when we learn who we are, when older generations share the stories that shape the family, when we learn from the dreams of children and youth, when we connect with one another soul to soul.

It’s an important practice that we too often don’t make room for.

Sabbath helps us make room.

Sabbath helps us take the long view on not just our own lives, but the lives that came before and will come after us.

I’ve recently been introduced to the idea of “intergenerational empathy” or “seven generation thinking.”

Diane Schenandoah, a Faithkeeper of Oneida Nation, Wolf Clan of the Six Nations HaudenosauneeConfederacy, describes it like this: “We are here because of seven generation thinking. Every decision that we make today, we think of how is that going to affect seven generations ahead.”[1]

In our fast-paced world focused on convenience and instant gratification, seven generation thinking isa helpful and even novel way to view the world, even though it’s actually a deep and rich tradition.

How would our world be different if we all considered the next seven generations with every decision we made?

It would require us to slow down.

Sabbath can help with that.

And it would require us to be grounded in both past and future generations.

All Saints can help with that.

Let’s make time and space to slow down enough to tell the stories of the past and consider our impact on the future.

After all, we’re part of the grand story stretching from Creation to Jesus breaking the power of death to now to the fulfillment of the Reign of God.

This week, tell stories of the past, dream of the future, and rest in God’s promises that death has been swallowed up in victory.

[1] Long Time Academy podcast, episode 1, around 37 minutes.

Sermonon John 8:31-36

Pastor Jennifer Garcia

I find something in our Gospel story puzzling.

Jesus had been teaching in the Temple, and it says that “As he was saying these things, many believed in him.”

Then, our reading today opens right after that, saying that Jesus was talking to “the Jews who had believed in him.”

But then, they objected to Jesus saying that the truth would make them free, saying: “’We are descendants of Abraham and have never been slaves to anyone.’”

Now, the Gospel of John is the latest written of our Gospels and makes a strong effort to make a distinction between the early Jesus followers and the non-Jesus-following Jewish community, even though Jesus was Jewish.

Over the next couple millennia, the way the Gospel of John talks about “the Jews” has led to an atrocious amount of antisemitism, even though it never means “all Jewish people.” So, we have to be careful how we read the Gospel of John when it says: “the Jews.”

And another thing to remember is that Jewish people are not and never have been a monolith, any more than Christianity is. Think for just a moment about the variety within Christianity and how very little we all agree on.

But still, it seems so strange that the Gospel of John would record a conversation where any Jewish people would forget the Exodus!

Arguably the most important event in the Hebrew Bible involves God’s people being freed from enslavement.

So, were these Jewish people forgetting their history? Were they speaking metaphorically? Ironically? Was the writer of the Gospel of John simply using them as a literary device to allow Jesus to elaborate on his teaching about freedom?

I don’t know. And that’s frustrating.

But,Jesus said in our reading that “the truth will make you free,” and the truth that we can glean from Jesus’ teaching and from the Exodus is this:

God frees God’s people.

Whether God freeing the Israelites from Egypt or Jesus freeing us all from the power of sin and death in his death and resurrection, God frees God’s people.

And especially on this Reformation Sunday, we remember that it is God who frees us. It’s God’s work, not ours. There’s nothing we can do to make God love us any more or any less. God already loves you infinitely.

We are freed from having to try to be good enough. We are freed from having to try to live up to some inhumanly impossible standard, because God loves us as we are.

Jesus has set us free, and so we are free indeed!

And still we forget—I probably forget multiple times a day—that we are free.

A primary theme in Martin Luther’s work during the Reformation is that we don’t have to earn our salvation. Again, it’s God’s work, not ours.

But so often we live like that’s not true.

We sometimes forget our history—where we’ve come from as people of faith.

We move so fast through our lives, powering through our to-do lists and striving toward the next thing.

It’s hard to slow down enough to look back.

But the past can help us in so many ways:

1.    We see whose shoulders we’re standing on when we honor the struggles and accomplishments of those who have come before us.

2.    Looking back helps us get in touch with our values. We see the values our ancestors held, and we get to decide whether we want to continue that work or live differently.

3.    Looking back helps us decide the legacy we want to have. We see where we’ve come from and look ahead at the path we’re on. We see the legacy of those who came before us and imagine how we want to be remembered in the future. That informs how we live now.

That’s important reflective work. And it’s hard to find the time and energy to actually do it.

One of the gifts of Sabbath is that it gives us time and restores our energy.

The point of Sabbath isn’t so that we can work harder the other six days of the week. It’s not something we have to earn by working hard, and it’s not a productivity tool.

But it can give us the time we need to slow down and reflect and make sure we’re going in the right direction those other six days.

Sometimes we work so hard trying to get through our to-do lists that we don’t stop to wonder if those things even need doing or if they’re contributing to the way of life we want to live.

It takes rest to remind us that we’re humans, not machines. We have agency and the Holy Spirit to guide us in creating our way of life and our legacy.

We’ve been contemplating and practicing Sabbath throughout this year. I hope it’s been giving you some time to reflect, play, take life a little less seriously, and at the same time, do the serious practice of orienting your life toward God.

Sabbath can give us time to remember our past as we journey into the future.

The stewardship team has invited us all to write down our stories about this congregation—whether from last week or fifty years ago. Let’s embrace it as part of our Sabbath practice this season.

Take some Sabbath time this week and reflect on the past. You can do it while sitting quietly, journaling, drawing, walking, talking with a loved one—whatever lets you settle and just be.

Take that time, reflect on the past, and see how it informs your future.

Our Lutheran tradition was birthed from and is steeped in reform. Knowing our history, examining our present, and deciding what we want the future to look like is an important part of our tradition.

When you reflect on your ancestors’ stories and your own life story, what do you want your legacy to be?What do you want this congregation’s legacy to be?

What do you want your life and the life of this congregation to say about God?

There is much generosity, service, love, and hope in stories of this congregation, and I’m looking forward to hearing more of those stories on Thankoffering Sunday next month. Generosity, service, love, and hope sound like a pretty good legacy to me. We can decide how to contribute to that into the future.

Don’t forget: we are free in Jesus.

Now, let’s slow down enough to reflect.

That reflection may lead to reformation—a new way of being in the world that better reflects our values and what God is calling us to.

On this Reformation Sunday, I want to close with part of a prayer from our Presbyterian siblings:

"O Lord our God, on Reformation Sunday we remember the complex legacy of our church. Grant us the internal space to view the ancestors of our faith as their whole selves, gifts and sins together.

We give thanks for the beautiful legacy of the Reformation: for the resurgence of the humanities and the gift of reading Scripture and offering our prayers to you in our own tongue, for the examples of those who resisted government overreach and abuse of power, for those who stayed true to their conscience in the face of great loss. We carry these lessons with us knowing they came at a great cost.

Through the gift of baptism, you have not only called clergy or special Christians or only some of us, but you have called each one of us to use our God-given gifts to reflect your grace and glory, to impact this world for Christ’s sake, and to engage in activities that enable our neighbors to thrive and flourish in this world you so love.

Help us to rejoice in the legacy of the Reformation, according to your Word, Jesus Christ our Lord, in whose name we pray. Amen."[1]

[1]https://pres-outlook.org/2022/10/a-prayer-for-reformation-sunday/?utm_source=EDLARJ+Newsletter&utm_campaign=1ef8849459-EMAIL_CAMPAIGN_2024_10_05_06_11&utm_medium=email&utm_term=0_-1ef8849459-%5BLIST_EMAIL_ID%5D