November 11, 2012 | 9:30 and 11:00 a.m.

Surprises on the Periphery

Victoria G. Curtiss
Associate Pastor, Fourth Presbyterian Church

Psalm 127
Mark 12:38–44
2 Corinthians 8:1–15

The Lord comes unexpectedly, in mysterious ways, to the weak, the poor, the oppressed, and those placed on the periphery of this world. They will become central in his kingdom.

Amelia L. Oracion

Some of us have had the joy of touring our new building, the Gratz Center, which will be dedicated next Sunday. When I took my tour, names were being etched onto some of the glass doors. Some of the rooms are honoring people known to most of us: the Buchanan Chapel, the Steve Bumpus Activity Room, the Ruthie Hornaday Rooms for the Day School and Nursery. Other rooms and terraces, as well as the building itself, were named by major donors to the building project. Later there will be a wall listing the names of all who donated towards the new building. This is probably the most public that Presbyterians become in revealing that donors gave money. Usually we give very privately, sealing our gifts in envelopes, tucking our money under others as the offering plate is passed, mailing in a check or making a stock transfer whose amount is known only by those who count and record gifts. One of the great themes of the Reformed faith, as listed in our denomination’s Constitution, is that we are to live out “a faithful stewardship that shuns ostentation and seeks proper use of the gifts of God’s creation.” So we are not to show off with our wealth or our giving.

This principle was not practiced in Jesus’ time in the temple, where he and his disciples stood watching others. In the temple the treasury consisted of sixteen containers in the shape of inverted trumpets. This was so that money could easily be poured in, but could not be removed easily by thieves. Money in that time was in the form of coins, so making large gifts involved carrying big bags of coins that would have to be hoisted up and poured down these hornlike receptacles. Coins clanking against metal would have been a loud, attention-grabbing event. Quite different from our quiet, orderly receiving of the offering.

But what is not different from then to now is the surprise in how Jesus assesses the value of offerings. The story of the widow’s mite may be so familiar to us that we no longer hear what a radical reversal Jesus established. But imagine the scene anew. Jesus pays attention to a poor widow on the periphery whom no one else would even have noticed. Her offering was only two coins, worth no more than a penny, not enough to make noise in the receptacle or make any difference to the annual operating budget of the temple. Yet Jesus says her offering is worth more than anyone else’s. Why? Because others gave out of their abundance; she gave out of her poverty, putting in everything she had, all she had to live on. God’s arithmetic is different. It is not the size of the actual amount of money given that matters but rather how much the giver has left over. The widow had nothing left over. She gave all she had in thanksgiving to God.

Do we know people who live that way? I was introduced to such people this past week by Pulitzer Prize-winning journalist Roger Thurow. Roger was assigned to write about the famine in Africa. His encounter with African people completely changed his life. He met people who survived for weeks on end during what is called the hunger season—the time when the food from the last harvest is running low or has run out before the next harvest has come in. For some it is a couple months. For others it can stretch to even ten months each year.

Roger said,

When I first walked into the small mud-and-sticks house of Rasoa Wasike, I discovered what sustains these smallholder farmers during the hunger season. The writing was literally on the wall.

The walls of her house weren’t painted in vibrant colors or covered with decorative wallpaper. There were no beautiful paintings on the wall to catch your eye. . . . What immediately commanded my attention was simple and humble: Rasoa’s declarations of faith scrawled in white chalk on the rough brown mud walls.

“With God everything is possible.”
“Lord is good all the time.”
“Nothing but prayer.”
“I love my God.”

As the hunger season deepened, as food portions were rationed and meals were skipped, a plentiful spiritual sustenance surrounded Rasoa’s family and all those who entered the house.

Roger found the same bedrock faith supporting the other farm families he followed. On the day when the hunger season began for Leonida Wanyama, when the last kernels of corn from her previous harvest were consumed, Leonida said, “From now on, I start every day with nothing except the grace of God.”

Another farmer, Zipporah, would break into singing often. On harvest day she was so excited she sang, “There is no other like God. O God, I’m fine. You are worthy of my praises today.” And her husband, with his machete ready to cut the corn stalks laden-down with heavy, ripe cobs, first stood in the field and prayed, “Thank you, Father. This is the day you planned for me to take my harvest. You control everything in this field. Since I planted this maize, you have taken care of it. Now I see the results of your work. I will remember the results of my field. Amen” (Roger Thurow, Study Guide for The Last Hunger Season: A Year in an African Farm Community on the Brink of Change, pp. 10, 13).

Research over the years has shown that those who are materially poor give away a higher percentage of their resources than those who have more. Why is that? Does their life circumstance deepen their awareness of God as Provider and Protector? Do they want to help others because they have been helped in difficult times and want to do the same for someone else? Have the poor learned to trust in God because they have nothing else or nowhere else to turn? Is it that they recognize that true security can only be found in God and not money? Or is this difference about the rest of us who are not materially poor—that once we get more money it sticks to us like Velcro, we have a hard time letting it go. The more money we have, the more we think we need. We look to money rather than God as our security. It’s like when John D. Rockefeller was asked how much money was enough and he replied, “A little bit more.”

The Jewish and Christian faiths have recognized how easily money can become an idol and how important it is to practice spiritual disciplines that help keep God, rather than money, at the center of our lives. One of those practices is giving first fruits. At harvest time, offering God the first bounty from one’s fields was an act of thanksgiving and trust. We do something similar when we encourage church members to make financial pledges for the coming year’s operating budget. Sure, it helps us for planning purposes, but it’s more than that. Some people don’t want to make a pledge because they don’t know what the coming year will bring and they would hate not to be able to fulfill their promise. But a change in circumstances is understood. Pledging is like giving first fruits of the harvest; it is an act of thanksgiving to the Source of Life and an act of trust in God’s provision.

Another spiritual practice that helps keep money in its rightful place is tithing: giving away 10 percent of your income. It’s a significant enough percentage for some of us that we must reorder our priorities. There was a time when the tithe was viewed as a basic starting place. So the phrase “tithes and offerings” meant “of course we tithe—that’s normal—but in addition we give offerings.” Regrettably, over time Presbyterians stopped emphasizing tithing. I think what happened is similar to a conversation between a couple farmers in Nebraska, Harry and Clarence. Clarence had just gotten back from Omaha, where he’d heard about something called socialism. Clarence was excited. He’d become a convert. “Harry,” he announced, “it means that those who have more than they need share with those who have less, so everybody has enough!” Harry wanted to make sure he understood. “You mean, Clarence, that if you had two boats, you’d give one to me?” “That’s right, Harry.” “You mean if you had two tractors, you’d give one to me?” “That’s right.” “You mean if you had two hogs, you’d give one to me?” Clarence said, “Now dag-nabbit, Harry, you know I got two hogs!”

We can teach proportionate giving or that everything belongs to God and God wants everything we have to offer, but it’s hard to know what that looks like. But dag-nabbit, we know how to calculate 10 percent of our income!

We can learn from people on the periphery who express gratitude to God freely with their resources. But in learning from them, it is important not to romanticize poverty. There is nothing about being poor and destitute that Jesus commends. In fact the reverse is true. Just prior to remarking about the widow’s offering, Jesus made scathing remarks about the scribes, those religious leaders who were responsible for the care of the widows. Not all widows were poor, but they all were vulnerable economically because they no longer had husbands to financially care for them and were dependent on other men—brothers or sons if they had them—to look after them. And women were not regarded as competent to manage their deceased husband’s affairs. So “scribal trusteeship” was established so a widow would have someone to help administer her assets. The scribe was paid a percentage for this role. Some of the scribes, who walked around the temple proudly in their long robes and loved their seats of honor, not only fell short of caring for the widows but did the opposite. They exploited the women through embezzlement and abuse. For this Jesus condemned them.

The scriptures call us again and again to show love for our neighbors by caring for whoever are among “the least” well off in our world. The Constitution of the Presbyterian Church (USA) states that

the church is called to be a sign in and for the world of a new reality which God has made available to people in Jesus Christ . . . [by] ministering to the needs of the poor, the sick, the lonely, and the powerless, . . . engaging in the struggle to free people from sin, fear, oppression, hunger, and injustice, . . . giving itself and its substance to the service of those who suffer, . . . sharing with Christ in the establishing of his just, peaceable, and loving rule in the world. The church is called to undertake this mission even at the risk of losing its life. (The Constitution of the Presbyterian Church (USA), Part II, Book of Order, G-3.0200–3.0400)

Even at the risk of losing its life.

Roger Thurow and other Christians, including in Opportunity International, are part of a larger movement working to eradicate global hunger. He has articulated that effort in simple terms: “We want to bring the gift of three little letters into the lives of those who suffer through the Hunger Season. Those three letters are A-N-D. And strings together priorities and desires which we often take for granted. Most of us assume we can have everything we want: feed my family and educate my children, improve my house and take a vacation, and, and, and.” (Roger Thurow, Study Guide for The Last Hunger Season, p. 16).

For most smallholder farmers, the best they can hope for are the words either . . .or. Either feed my family or send my children to school. Either put food on the table or buy medicine to fight malaria. In most cases, though, what they face is neither . . . nor.

Over the decades in Africa, the rich have gotten richer and the poor poorer. Our African brothers and sisters have said they want us to work with them to address the root causes of poverty. They want our support to expand economic development, such as through micro-lending to purchase seed or sustain small businesses, collectively storing grain to last them through the hunger season, increasing food production, and finding markets for their produce.

We are also being asked by Presbyterians in Africa to stand in solidarity with them to stop international corporations and governments from exploiting the land’s resources in ways that benefit those in power at the cost of the poor. The Presbyterian Church (USA) has a relationship with Christians in Cameroon through the Joining Hands partnership. They have launched a petition, which you can sign today in Coffee Hour, to send to the President of Cameroon and the CEO of Herakles Farm to stop the development of palm oil plantations that will destroy lush rainforests and the livelihoods of many families.

This is the work for justice that Jesus Christ and so many of God’s prophets call us to do: Care for the people cast aside, seek justice for those not mentioned in either presidential candidate’s campaign – the poor. Stand up for those whose human rights are being abused. Release captives from the bondage of white privilege imposed all over the world.

As disciples of Jesus Christ, we are to follow his example. As the Apostle Paul wrote, though Jesus Christ was rich, yet for our sakes he became poor, so that by his poverty we may become rich. We are to give generously when we are able, trusting that when we are in need others will give generously on our behalf. God wants us to live in ways that we could say, “The one who had much did not have too much, and the one who had little did not have too little” (2 Corinthians 8:15).

Our new member classes hear different members of Fourth Church talk about the importance of making a financial contribution to the church. I have heard on more than one occasion the statement, “It doesn’t matter how much you give.” In one sense that is very true; the absolute size of one’s gift is not what matters. There is no gift too small or too large. It’s relative to what your own resources are and how much one has left over after giving. On the other hand, to say it doesn’t matter how much one gives is absolutely false. The amount does matter, for it both shapes and reveals the depth of one’s trust in God, the expanse of one’s gratitude to the Source of Life, the wealth of commitment and freedom one has to further God’s purposes and to share with those who have less.

Jesus wants us to give our all. Give everything. Our whole lives. Extravagantly. Freely. Generously. Sacrificially. Passionately, without holding back. Give everything.

John Wesley, founder of the Methodism, was once asked what one person could do on behalf of the kingdom of God. He answered,

Do all the good you can,
In all the ways you can,
In all the places you can,
At all the times you can,
To all the people you can,
As long as ever you can.

Amen.