Plenty Left Over For Me

Mark 12: 38-44

Having arrived in time, I was able to make the opening worship service at Annual Conference a few years ago. At the appropriate time, the offering was received, as usual, for the Bishop's Discretionary Fund. As the plate came down the aisle, I pulled out my wallet and realized I was ill-prepared for the offering. Oh, I had a couple of bills in my pocket, but not many. And they were twenties. (I'm not sure which is worse, opening your wallet to no money, or opening it to the wrong money). I usually take just enough with me to cover gas and a couple of meals out with my friends. Since this was the opening session, I hadn't had the opportunity to break a twenty. As the offering plate slipped down the aisle toward me, I was running out of time to decide what to do. Should I let the plate go by, and feel stingy, or should I go ahead and contribute to the Discretionary Fund, only to find myself running short of funds before Conference was over?

I noticed a similarity between this situation and what Jesus noticed in the Temple Court, as he compared the offerings between generous worshippers and a poor widow. Back in the Temple Court days, they had a different way to receive offerings. Instead of receiving the offerings in the Temple during worship, they had several shofar chests placed throughout the Temple Court area. There was one for the New Shekel Dues, one for the Old Shekel Dues, one for the Bird offerings, and six freewill offering chests. Thirteen collection boxes in all. Imagine having all those designated offerings every week!

The shofar chests were uniquely designed. They had a wide receptacle which belled out like a tuba horn, which tapered down into a tube. The tube led into a box where the offerings were collected. This design kept passersby from sticking their hands into the collection box and helping themselves to extra pocket money.

In the clamor of the crowd dropping their offerings in the shofar chests, Jesus notices a widow dropping in two small copper coins; probably the so-called "widow's mite", the smallest unit of Jewish currency in circulation in Jesus' time. Jesus' response was that the poor widow put in more than the others, because they contributed out of their abundance, where she contributed everything she had.

Now, it's always tricky judging a biblical character's motivation- that's a subjective thing to do. But I found myself asking that question anyway, particularly of the poor widow. If she had kept one of the coins, who would have blamed her? Who would have found fault if she had held onto both coins in her meager purse. In fact, maybe it would have been a prudent thing to excuse her from making an offering, since her existence may have hung in the balance of making the offering and having something to eat. Was she foolhardy? Generous to a fault? Or was she making a statement about her devotion and trust in God?

Jesus is moving beyond the tithe and refining the standard of measuring a gift. Today we call it "proportional giving"- giving not according to a calculated 10%, but a gift given in proportion to a person's resources. The temptation is to talk about giving in proportion to our means, but Jesus stands this upside down. The greatest gift in the Temple Court was not given according to anyone's means. The greatest gift came when a poor widow gave beyond her means.

Jesus did not demean the large gift, and he did not romanticize the small, as though it was what was needed to complete a hospital wing. He tosses aside the tithe in favor of another standard: how much does one have left over after the offering is made? The true measure of a gift is the cost to the giver. Measured this way, the widow made the greatest gift because she had nothing left over. The offering of everything, no matter what the amount, is the gift that cannot be excelled.

 And so, when the offering plate passed by, I opened my wallet, pulled out a twenty, and placed it in the plate. I felt good making a contribution to the Discretionary Fund, knowing my gift would be used directly to help people and churches. And I made a decent contribution at that.

Later that evening my friends and I got caught up on what was going on with each other as we shared in a leisurely meal at a nice restaurant. I don't remember what I ate, but it was better than what most of the world ate for dinner that evening. I hope God forgives my presumption that I was generous that day. I did then, and I do now, have plenty left over for me.

Haydn McLean