Sermon, Proper 27B, Mark 12:38-44

Two copper coins; that's all the money she had to her name. And yet, when it came time to make her offering, she gave it all away; holding nothing back for herself, she gave every last penny as her offering to God.

We are in the middle of what passes for our annual pledge drive. You all received a letter and pledge card and were asked to consider how you might pledge to the church in 2010. You were also asked to return those cards by December 6 so we would know where we stand. And now, as if by Divine providence, we have a gospel reading that focuses on giving to the church.

I could use this passage as a comparison between the widow giving 100 percent of her money to the church against our own percentage of 5 to 10 percent . . . or less. I could use it co compare the different levels of commitment between her and us. And I could do the Oral Roberts or TBN thing of saying that no matter how much you give, it isn't enough. I could, but I won't.

I won't because we are not in the business of comparing ourselves to other people. We shouldn't be comparing the size of our congregation to a larger one. We shouldn't be comparing the style of our facilities with a more modern facility down the road. And we shouldn't be comparing the amount of our gift with some poor widow from 2000 years ago.

Instead of comparing ourselves to something bigger, something grander, something holier and wondering why we aren't like that, we should concentrate on developing those attributes n a way that complements who we are.

To be a large church for the sake of numbers is bad theology; but to grow as a result of intentionally raising up and encouraging disciples is not. To create a worship experience that is based on showmanship and theatrics is simply self-promotion; but to develop a liturgy intentionally steeped in the traditions of the church where the mysteries of God are made manifest allows us to participate in, and share in, God's holy presence in a way that is unique to us.

Rather than using this story of the widow's mite as a financial club to beat you or shame you into an increased pledge, we have the opportunity to see this story as a holy example. The widow is like a lot of saints in our past. Our history is full of people who "lived not only in ages past, but there are hundreds of thousands still." People like Leo the Great who wrote the definitive treatise on the humanity and divinity of Christ that was formally recognized at the Council of Chalcedon, and Francis who served the poor and wrote hymn 400, and Mother Teresa who followed Francis' example by caring for one person at a time in Calcutta, and Greg Mortenson who builds schools in Afghanistan and wrote Three Cups of Tea; these people give us examples of what could be.

Nobody comes fully developed. Francis didn't plan to create the Franciscan movement. Leo's first seminary paper wasn't an orthodox treatise on the divinity and humanity of Christ. Teresa didn't go to Calcutta to save thousands of people. Greg didn't begin hiring 20 contractors to build 20 schools. These are things we work up to. These are things we learn to develop over time through a practice of living intentionally with God.

Likewise, the widow. She didn't begin her life giving all her money to the church. This particular gift came after years of faithfulness, after years of developing a relationship with God, and, yes, after years of discipleship. Those two coins, this giving of everything she had, was the end result of her journey with God.

Evagrius, a desert monastic of the late 4th century, when writing about this passage, says it is better to start out feebly and end up strong than it is to attempt perfection at the first and abandon the goal later. This holds true with our physical life and our spiritual life, as well as with our pledge.

Physically we don't train for a marathon by running 26 miles the first day. Maybe we start by walking, and then run a little, then further. Or maybe we want to clean up our speech. We begin by eliminating one vulgarity at a time until we've change our manner of speaking.

And spiritually, it's probably a bad idea to start your discipleship by trying to read through the Bible in one sitting, or by deciding to pray every office every day if you've never done that. Instead, we start by carving out a little space each day, gradually expanding it until our prayer life takes on a more significant role. And when we pledge, not many of us can begin by giving 10 percent of our income the first time we fill out a pledge card. That is something we work towards over time.

And there's the key: are we working towards a goal of perfection, of greater discipleship, of greater giving? As we intentionally evaluate our lives and our budget, are we working towards giving God a larger place in our lives? Because that's the goal -- to give of ourselves to such an extent that God is first and foremost in every aspect of our lives.

In the Rite I service, there's a sentence in the Eucharistic Prayer that addresses this idea of our struggle to turn everything over to God: And we earnestly desire thy fatherly goodness to accept this our sacrifice of praise and thanksgiving, whereby we offer and present unto thee, O Lord, our selves, our souls and bodies.

It's a sacrifice because we lose control of part of our lives; we choose to give up that control to God. We sacrifice our time to be involved in church. We sacrifice our money to support the mission of the church. And in doing so, we offer our selves, our souls and bodies to our Lord Jesus Christ.

This was the end result of the widow's walk with God. She finally reached that point in her life where she could offer her self, her soul and body completely to God. So let us not use this story as a financial club or measuring stick of shame to our lives; but let us use it as a holy example of continual intentionality in building a complete relationship with God.