Give With All Your Mite

"The Life of Our Lord Jesus Christ (La Vie de Notre-Seigneur Jésus-Christ)" by  James Tissot, Nantes, France, 1836–1902, Chenecey–Buillon, France 

 Isaiah 25:6-9
Psalm 24
Revelation 21:1-6a
John 11:32-44

 

© 2024, The Rev. Seth Olson

This sermon was preached at the Episcopal Church of the Holy Apostles in Hoover, AL on the 25th Sunday after Pentecost. A video of the sermon may be found here.

Holy God, let my words be your words and when my words are not your words, let your people be wise enough to know the same. Amen.

 

This past week, our nation held its breath. Each one of us, no matter which side of the aisle we were on, felt the weight of anticipation. For some, there is relief and hope; for others, fear and frustration. And yet, here we all are today, in God’s house. We come together as a community not defined by our political stances but by a deeper calling to follow Christ and live into God’s abundant grace.

 

In times of conflict, it’s easy to feel that abundance is far away, that there’s not enough peace, not enough understanding, not enough common ground. But today’s readings invite us into a different mindset, one rooted in a profound trust in God’s abundance—even, and especially, when we cannot see it clearly.

 

Our first story from Ruth offers a window into God’s abundance showing up in ways we might never expect. Ruth and Naomi, two widows with little to their names, found themselves relying on the kindness of others. In a world that didn’t value their voices, Ruth courageously placed herself at Boaz’s feet, asking him to be their redeemer. Boaz’s choice to respond with compassion and generosity changed everything. This small act of kindness lead to a richness that didn’t just help Ruth and Naomi—it became part of a lineage leading to King David and, ultimately, to Christ Jesus.

 

In times of division, we often lose sight of the small acts that God uses to bring about healing. Ruth and Boaz remind us that abundance isn’t always about dramatic miracles or grand gestures; it’s often about simple kindness, a willingness to see and respond to the needs of others. This is a lesson that transcends any election cycle, any political party, any position. Where might God be asking us to offer unexpected kindness in a world that seems starved of it?

 

Psalm 127 reminds us that “unless the Lord builds the house, those who build it labor in vain.” In other words, no matter how hard we try, our efforts alone cannot bring about the fullness of God’s kingdom. True security, true abundance, come from trusting in God. 

 

How often do we, in our personal or communal lives, lean on our own understanding, our own strategies, our own convictions, forgetting that it is God who ultimately holds us all? Especially in these divided times, Psalm 127 invites us to remember that no political outcome alone will bring the peace we long for. That peace comes from God’s abundance—a gift that we’re called to share, not hoard. Now let’s move to our Epistle reading for today.

 

Hebrews speaks of Christ entering “heaven itself” on our behalf. Jesus’ sacrifice was an act of total abundance—an overflowing gift of love and forgiveness that reminds us of God’s profound commitment to us. This is the abundance that has the power to heal our deepest wounds, to bring reconciliation where there has been rift.

 

As Christians, we are called to reflect this same generosity in the world. Can we see our role, especially in these times, as being agents of that abundant love? Christ didn’t give of himself only for those who agreed with him or only for those who seemed worthy. No, Christ’s love extends to all. 

 

Remember on the night before Jesus died, he washed his disciples’ feet and shared in an intimate meal with them. He did not leave out Judas who betrayed him, Peter who denied him, nor any of the other disciples who abandoned him. Self-giving, sacrificial love is the way of Christ. And, this is the model we’re invited to follow as we engage with those who may see the world differently from us.

 

Finally, we arrive at the story of the widow’s mite. Jesus observed this husband-less, and in that day powerless woman giving her last two coins, her entire livelihood. She had so little to give, but she trusted God with all of it. She believed that God would supply her needs. In her, we see faith in God’s abundance—a radical belief that God will provide, even when it seems impossible.

 

In a divided world, it is easy to feel we don’t have enough to make a difference, that our small acts of faith and love don’t add up to much. But God sees things differently. Each small act of kindness, each moment of reconciliation, each time we choose to listen rather than argue—these are our “mites,” our contributions to God’s abundant work in the world.

 

So where does this leave us, especially today? We are a people called to be signs of God’s abundance in a world that often believes in scarcity. This means choosing to be gentle with one another, to extend grace to those who may not share our views, to offer support to those who feel the weight of this election in ways we may not fully understand. 

 

God’s abundance is never diminished by being shared. In truth, it grows. So, as we go forward, let’s ask ourselves: How can we be part of God’s abundance? How can we bring healing to the hurt and reconciliation to the divisions that surround us?

 

Perhaps it’s in a conversation over coffee with someone we disagree with. Maybe it’s in reaching out to someone feeling afraid or alone. It would be wise to include praying for our leaders, regardless of who they are, that they may be instruments of God’s justice and mercy.

 

In these small acts, we become part of God’s abundant work in this broken world. We become instruments of God’s peace and partners in bringing about a kingdom that transcends every political divide. May we trust in Our Almighty and All-loving God and find courage to be bearers of that abundance, now and always. Amen.

How Do We Preach Division?

Preaching on the weather (and James Spann) would be much easier than preaching on this set of readings.

There’s a whole lot in this week’s readings worth noting: Jeremiah sounding off against false prophets, God striking down false gods in the council of heaven, the writer of Hebrews challenging readers to run the race of perseverance, and Jesus revealing his pyromaniac side. Given we encounter a feisty and fiery Jesus what’s a preacher to do? I believe a helpful place to start is Jesus’ last question.

“You know how to interpret the appearance of earth and sky, but why do you not know how to interpret the present time?” Everyone can talk about the weather—it’s a universally acceptable topic of conversation. I particularly love conversing about clouds, storm systems, and barometric pressure, but I’m the guy who has four weather apps on my phone. My sweet sister gifted me a couple of the expensive ones because she wanted to make sure I’m weather aware—and boy am I! I’ve got the same radar that James Spann uses, and I can carry it around with me everywhere I go. I know which way the wind is blowing, have alerts for all types of severe weather, and even know when it’s going to start raining minutes before it happens. So, I feel pretty good about answering Jesus, “Yes I know how to interpret the appearance of earth and sky—or at least my app developers do.” But, the trouble comes in the second part of his question (I can’t seem to escape an impassioned Jesus). Why do you not know how to interpret the present time?

Why do I not know how to interpret the present time? Good question! The more I think about the present moment though, the more confused I get. It’s not to say that it wasn’t complicated 2,000 years ago. Especially since Jesus turned his face toward Jerusalem in Luke 9:51 the drama has heightened but the world around Jesus became more delineate, more black and white. And, this Sunday we hear Jesus drawing or perhaps burning a line in the sand. Those listening were challenged to make a decision, but it wasn’t turn or burn like we might be thinking (more on the type of fire in a moment).

The early followers of Jesus would have offended their parents or children or neighbors, as they sided with Jesus instead of other worldviews. Those times were certainly divisive, and with hindsight and bias we judge which side we would choose to join. What about today though? A good sermon this week might highlight the challenges we face in our current divisive age.

Right now appears even more divided than any other time—including Jesus' own. We can see people’s opinions instantaneously on social media. When we do we can simply unfriend or unfollow those people with whom we disagree. We can watch our chosen brand of 24-hour news to further hammer home how right we are—and how wrong everyone else is. People can even quit going to a church if someone in the pulpit or the pew says something they don’t like. But, take any hot-button issue and try to interpret a peaceable solution and life will get quite complicated quite quickly. I don’t mean that people cannot figure out what they think about given issue—or what side to choose. No, I mean that all of us are struggling to coalesce and find consensus. It feels impossible to arrive at solutions where all are heard, respected, and satisfied with the result.

Experiencing the log-jammed nature of today helps me to understand Jesus’ frustration in this week’s Gospel lesson. A helpful sermon might speak of fire (told you I'd come back to it). Fire not as a way to scare people into choosing heaven over hell, but rather as a way to burn away that which does not fall in line with God’s will. Jesus used this image of fire to illuminate how God refines us. Jesus was rifting on the same image that Jeremiah used several centuries earlier. This might be another good jumping off spot for a sermon.

Jeremiah was tired of hearing the false prophets of his own day. These errant teachers were claiming that they had dreams from God, so that they could benefit themselves. This is not unlike some infamous televangelists who use hapless viewer’s charity to buy private jets or mansions. Jeremiah could not condone any of these nightmarish dreams which led God’s people astray.

A compelling dream and a flashy sales pitch can make people fall for just about anything. In this case it could even make God’s people forget God’s name. However, even more powerful than the false prophet’s dream is the Word of God. The Word of God can burn like a dividing fire and split open like a rock hammer. Still in both the Gospel lesson and here in Jeremiah we may not understand what is at stake along these dividing lines, as we experience the fiery word of God, which is where this week’s Psalm comes in handy. Again, another good sermon departure point.

Often I overlook the Psalmody in my sermon prep. They’re just old songs, right? Yes, but even though we often read them and move on these hymns cover the gamut of human experience from lamentation to ecstasy, from birth to death, from history to the end times. And, this week's psalm has a direct way of depicting who God truly is.

In Psalm 82, we are placed in the council of heaven, a common concept in the Ancient Near East—including ancient Israel and Judah. Here, YHWH or the Most High God was holding all others that were not the Most High God accountable. God took a stand against all forces not God. God took this stand because these other forces were judging unjustly. We might wonder what is the most important characteristic that makes God… well… God. Is it omnipotence? Is it infinite power? Is it immortality? What is it?

Psalm 82 responds to those questions in an unexpected way to me. All those forces in the council of heaven were cast down out of the realm of the immortal because they were... wait for it... unjust. God's most critical component here is not omnipotence, power, or immortality. It's justice! These others were showing favor to the wicked, not saving the weak and the orphan nor defending the humble and needy. They were not rescuing the weak and the poor, nor delivering them from the power of the wicked. And in a great cosmic aside, God said, “They do not know, neither do they understand; they go about in darkness; all the foundations of the earth are shaken.” In other words, these others go about in ignorance and haphazardly shake the very foundation of creation with their injustice. As a result of not living into the justice that God intended, they were cast out of this celestial realm.

Now my fellow preacher, justice is a powerful word to throw around from the pulpit. When I say justice everyone can nod their head and in other parts of the Jesus Movement people might even say “Amen!” to such a profound word. However, there’s a problem with this word. When I say justice there are as many different concepts of what that looks like as there are people in the pews. So, let me elaborate on this term using the vision that God sets forth here in Psalm 82 and also in Luke’s Gospel account.

Justice sides not with the wicked—i.e. anyone who takes advantage of the poor—but rather God’s vision of justice saves the weak and the orphan, defends the humble and needy, rescues the weak and the poor, and delivers them from those who would exploit them. And this theme, this vision of justice isn’t simply present here in Psalm 82, it’s also what Luke has been building towards throughout his entire story of Jesus.

Three canticles at the start of Luke portray this vision. Zechariah, John the Baptizer’s father, sang of this justice when he spoke of being delivered out of the hands of enemies and into freedom by God’s mercy. Simeon shared of this justice through the release for all of God’s people that he saw in the coming of the Christ child. And Mary most pointedly praised God’s justice as she sang, “He has shown the strength of his arm, he has scattered the proud in their conceit. He has cast down the mighty from their thrones, and has lifted up the lowly. He has filled the hungry with good things, and the rich he has sent away empty.” This is the vision of justice that God makes known to us, but what does this mean to us? And how can we preach when we and our congregations are often proud, mighty, and rich? I don't have a good answer for this, which is why I'm still working on my sermon.

There is a dilemma set forth in this week’s texts. Jesus touches on a nerve that Jeremiah experienced in his day, and we feel in our own. Jesus points to divisions that arise when we have to choose something paramount over something important. What happens when the stakes are raised to this level?

I believe we find the most profound truth in the psalmist's words. God is not God if God is unjust. And we in turn are not God’s people if we are perpetuating injustice. We are called to persevere just like that great cloud of witnesses persevered in the letter to the Hebrews. Our perseverance as preachers is difficult. For calling out injustice in our congregations and in our world must be done with a pastoral heart. And first Jesus’ fiery, cutting language must convict us as followers of Christ, so that all which does not fall in line with God’s will burns away. How do we preach division? First, we must allow God's refining fire to unite our true selves with Christ.

The Only Time I Want To Finish Second

Who are you following? (Picture courtesy of Bondiband)

During this Holy Week we have been wandering together as we follow Jesus and pondering together what does it mean to follow Jesus to the Cross?

I feel the need to confess something that may not seem all that sinful to you: I do not like to lose. I never have liked losing. My family knows this. My friends know this. Maybe even some of you know this. Certainly no one likes to lose, but I actively avoid it almost to the point that I have a diagnosable phobia of losing.

Lately though I have been actively trying to push myself to the point of losing. Not just to get over my fear of it, but also because by actually avoiding challenges in which I might fail my gifts and skills atrophy away. Plus, I will never learn how good I might be at something I am afraid to try because I might lose at it. This reminds me of one experience in which failing brought new insight and new growth in my life.

When I was in college I switched from being a life-long soccer player to a first-time track and cross-country runner. I was terrible. Not just bad, but awful. I was the last placed runner for most of the first track season I ran. In the slowest heat of the 800 meter or 1500 meter race I was often a distant last placed finisher too. For some reason though instead of quitting I kept with it.

Eventually I learned to push through what I perceived were my barriers and with the encouragement, advice, and pacing of others I actually turned out to be an okay student-athlete. Yet, what I learned in this endeavor of failing over and over again was not so much my strengths or my weaknesses, but rather the truth from the letter to the Hebrews we heard today.

“Since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us also lay aside every weight and the sin that clings so closely, and let us run with perseverance the race that is set before us, looking to Jesus the pioneer and perfecter of our faith, who for the sake of the joy that was set before him endured the cross, disregarding its shame, and has taken his seat at the right hand of the throne of God.”

Running a race with perseverance requires some skills, good training, and sound advice. And yet, some more pertinent pieces, albeit less catchy ones, from the author of the letter to the Hebrews get overlooked. First, we are surrounded by a cloud of witnesses. We have help in this race that we call life. People who have gone before us and those alive now can give us aid in this journey.

Next, to run a race with a weight tied to your ankle or strapped to your chest sounds torturous. On this journey of following Jesus lay aside the burden of sin that we so often carry around our necks. In this vein, do not think about the past times of failure either. They have brought you to this very moment.

Finally, and most importantly, you are not running this race without someone who is pacing you, someone who is blocking the wind for you, someone who has run the race before you. Jesus is the pioneer and perfecter of this journey that is our race. Somehow I often overlook the leader who goes before me, instead focusing on how I might fail.

In today’s Gospel story from John, Jesus goes before us in a very direct way. In the synoptic gospels we find Judas to be a traitor who seeks only more money. Yet, here we find that Jesus tells Judas what to do. Even in how he was handed over to torture and death the Son of God remained aware and in control of the race he was running.

We cannot control all things. However, we do have the power to control our interior spiritual life, the thoughts to which we give energy, and the feelings which ebb and flow our mood. Jesus did not let the shame of the Cross destroy him. He knew guilt lay with others and that he was God’s Son worthy of praise and devotion not riotous murder. We too are called to cast aside the shame of whatever it is that haunts us, whether it is the irrational fear of losing, the pain of a bad decision, or something else that clings to us. Within us we have inherit worth for we too are children of God adopted through the all-encompassing love of Christ.

This section of the race brings us every closer to our yearly remembrance of Jesus’ death. Run it with perseverance, or better yet slow down to walk the way of the Cross. For we have been given a perfect pace-setter to follow. And for me, trailing after Jesus might be the only time when I want to follow finishing second instead of leading.