LESSONS

 Mark 12:38-44

12:38 As he taught, he said, "Beware of the scribes, who like to walk around in long robes, and to be greeted with respect in the marketplaces,

12:39 and to have the best seats in the synagogues and places of honor at banquets!

12:40 They devour widows' houses and for the sake of appearance say long prayers. They will receive the greater condemnation."

12:41 He sat down opposite the treasury, and watched the crowd putting money into the treasury. Many rich people put in large sums.

12:42 A poor widow came and put in two small copper coins, which are worth a penny.

12:43 Then he called his disciples and said to them, "Truly I tell you, this poor widow has put in more than all those who are contributing to the treasury.

12:44 For all of them have contributed out of their abundance; but she out of her poverty has put in everything she had, all she had to live on."

I am guilty of comparing and competing.  

Maybe it is characteristic of the yougest child....I notice and compare and then if need be it's game on.  

Both comparing and competing are disruptive to maintenance of the harmony of a community. Either one notices the wrongs of another and arrogantly proclaims, "Well, at least I didn't do that!  I'm not that bad."  Or, we notice and compete --- "I can do that and do that soooooo much better...."

I think one's insecurity is foundational to both behaviors. My seminary experience was a journey to find myself, know myself and be consistent in being myself. To my mother's horror on my first dull day of seminary classes I wore a Freeport Volleyball sweathshirt with the words "KILL" (a term for a spike) emblazoned on the front. Admittedly this was not a wise fashion decision. Clearly, I did not put in a lot of thought to my wardrobe; I wanted to be comfortable and signify where I was from. My intimidation of starting seminary (You sure you called the right one???) lead me to fall back on the familiar...my hometown, blue jeans and a sweatshirt. 

Before the start of every class, the seminary president would ask a different student to open with prayer.  It was random, one could not prepare for it...just pray when asked. There were classmates who when called  upon to pray used a deeper and louder voice than normal and intoned multi-syllabic words that would warrant major point totals in Scrabble. It were the more grounded and self-assured students whose prayers were simple, heartfelt, real. 

In the early 1990's my first appointment to a church as an Associate Pastor provided
me the opportunity to journey with a congregation through a church building campaign. We hired a consultant to offer guidance and direction. He suggested finding major donors who would be willing to purchase a sound system or several pews or the construction costs for building a new class room. When those donors and their dollars came in "recognize them, honor them!" he directed.

I am one who is much more comfortable with the "Joe and Jane Bag-of-Donuts" types of people...the blue jean wearing, shower-after-work, have a beer and a hot dog and swear freely if the occassion warrants. Pat was a faithful member of the congregation who helped out with Rally Day and the children's ministry program. Her husband was disabled and they lived on a very limited income. One Sunday following worship Pat pulled me aside and handed me an envelope. "Open it now," she said. Pat beamed as I opened the envelope. Inside was a personal check for $25. "I love this church. You all have helped me through so much. I want the church to have this to help with the new buidling."

Knowing Pat's story, I knew for her this was a lot of money.  She gave from the foundation of her love for her church.  A couple of weeks later at a meeting of the building committee the consultant asked us to name donors who had stepped up and whose stories should be recognized.  The senior pastor named a couple of families who donated significant sums of money. When those donations were shared there was the "ooohs" and "ahhhs" from the committee. I sat quietly.  I shared Pat's story. The reaction was a few smiles and head nods. "So, let's recognize a different big giver family each of the next several Sundays," said the consultant, "and I'm confident other wealthy families will step up as well. Call it, good ol' capitalism competition." 

Troubled by this, I said, "I think we should recognize and honor Pat. She'd love it! She never gets the recognition. And, her gift embodies the widow's mite, that's the spirit of giving we should be highlighting."

Pat was not recognized. I was disillusioned. I would leave that church for another appointment before the building project was completed.