Two Coins - Mark 12

Two Coins

Tony E Dillon Hansen

Sermon based upon Mark 12:38-44, Revelations 21, Ruth 1, and Psalm 146

This story arrives at the perfect time for churches to talk about giving and fundraising. How convenient.  I am going to tell you why and how I give.

I give to the church (and to other organizations) that will expand the work of my dollar into the work I cannot do but needs to be done.  When I give, I like giving locally because I know that people in our community are doing good work in our neighborhoods.  I give to bigger organizations when I sense they are doing that on a broader scale. 

Thus, when I give to the church, I feel I get to do both because St John is not just a local church but part of the wider United Church of Christ working on issues of poverty and social justice for far more people than I can personally help. My gift goes without conditions because I know it is doing God’s work.

So I give today with that in mind. What will do the most good? Does the person (or organization) need something that will collect dust or is there something that would be more fulfilling? Giving is more than just throwing dollars and leaving. 

You know I volunteer with UBFM.  When we go out on the streets, I see the power of a true gift, gifts given without judgment. When I see a guy come out of nook of a bridge wearing all he has ( shorts, old jersey, and light coat) on a cold autumn evening with eyes wide as we offer food, blankets, socks and such for him and his lady friend, I am humbled. (These are some of the items you gave.)

I am humbled to even ask for anything for myself when I can get most of what I want when I want. Incidentally, I can show you pictures of a confirmation gift.

These two coins (representing all this widow owns) offer perspectives for us here.  Wonder how long have these coins been with her and persuaded to give these - perceivably, her last to Jesus?

This raises what is a gift and what do they mean. We will get to that.

As Mark reminds us time and again, there will be many who are first that will be last and those who are last to be first.  What do we see in the widow that Jesus sees her, recognizes her? She gets lifted up by Jesus - for them and for us.

She ought to make us consider what is it that we see in people - as the giver or the receiver of grace.  The elders around her have just been denounced by Jesus as wiling to “devour widows’ houses” for the sake of appearances. They seek out the visible places and best seats while there are ordinary folks that are simply ignored or forgotten.  

When we see people on the street or little disheveled. We might see this widow a little more.  We don’t know everything, the why or how she became widow. She is alone in a world that has left her destitute. (Or is she alone?) 

We know this today because we see it all around us.  We hear about tragedy, poverty or worse and think how much it may have been of their own doing. They can lift themselves up by their bootstraps if they caused their own problems.  Money becomes curtains for our eyes. We pass judgment and we don’t see the person’s worth - as a child of God. What do we do when we politely regard someone’s issues as “not mine” is remove empathy and compassion from our breath. 

Think about the words we say to start worship every week about welcome - “no matter who you are or where you are on life’s journey…” Do we practice that extravagant welcome in our lives or are these just words to endear us in church?  Do we say to neighbors to come join us?

Again, this is not just about what we do and say in the church, but outside the walls, at the dinner table, on the street, or otherwise. What do we give of ourselves and do we only give to those that look like us, act like us, or perhaps don’t make us feel uncomfortable? 

There are plenty of people that will go out of their way to seek fame and fortunes - all “talking” about God without doing God’s work.  We see this in our time, and this is exactly what Jesus denounces.  Those are people deeply connected and invested in corruption and flawed social structures.  They bathe themselves in lavishness and pay little attention to ordinary people who can’t (or won’t) provide lavish gifts and dinners to them. For them it’s a transaction. These: who are first (in their own minds and the minds of a broken world) will give only when given to - These will be last (in the world of God).  

Do we do this with people around us?  Do we only invite those people that can (or will) present us with gifts, dinners or whatever out of abundance versus spending time with those who maybe can’t? Are you only invested to give when you get something from it?

The woman with two coins represents the last who will be first.  She represents in many ways the people who can’t.  For many widows, especially in that time, are stripped of property and wealth and later by more fellows looking to exploit them. There are stories today of widows (widowers) giving from their hearts only to see more tragedy from all kinds of shady ways. 

That brings us back to the gift. What is a gift? This woman, despite obstacles and setbacks, still gives. She demonstrates power of love and faith with two coins. She still gives when it could hurt her so much. She gives all of her because to truly understand the trauma of loss is to give all of ourselves - kind of like Jesus on the cross. 

Still this is quite transformational for her. 

This is her moment and you can imagine instead of woman sad but one who is proud, confident and with purpose.  You can imagine her walking before all these people in their grand robes and displays of wealth. With all the eyes upon her in their robes and stacks of cash, she walks as if to say keep your hands off me, hands off my money, you don’t own me, I am not a slave to your desire, and I am woman.  

With swagger and purpose she walks to the offering plate (not like today when we can just wave off the plate as it goes by).  You can see her with purpose and then maybe some trepidation as she looks at the bowl, her coins and then with purpose and grace, she gives.  She gives as if to say I am not dead, I am alive and I give to you because you heard me, you lifted my struggle. I believe. She liberates herself from all that she was to all that she will be.

Jesus sees her, recognizes her and lifts her. Jesus lifts you. Like the fellow on the street was wary of people until I gave assurance that we were there to help, upon receiving the gifts he showers blessings upon us.

If you only had two coins left, what would you do with them and what faith would you place in that?  

Maybe instead of large wishlists, we might think of that one thing we need in our lives like the blind man from Mark 10. Folks the kingdom of God is near. See it and be it. 

Maybe, we consider the gifts in our lives and share with our thanks to God that we have abundance to share.  Maybe, we share not just because it feels good for ourselves but because we share with our faith and in thanks that God fulfills us. 

Maybe we give and we welcome with faith and love. Then, we practice love of God and of neighbor: one person at a time (with one burrito, one meal, or one blanket) and see them for who they are - a child of God.

We share our gifts. Why? Because your two coins mean so much.

Thanks be to God.

Devotions Yesterday and Today

Changing Devotions and Perspectives

Tony Dillon-Hansen

May 2014

Question was posed for the Deacons of Plymouth Church: "What was God in your life in your youth; what changed; and what is God calling you to do today?" As the question asks about experiences and how they have changed, God, in this context, can be described as religion, faith or the omnipotent being that one might call a deity.  A wide breadth of change in faith is most certainly the case for me. The wealth of positive and negative memories and experiences of my life to this question reverberated, and so, I pick to split an answer to the question into two parts. This part will reminisce of the past youthful gaze and also consider what has changed especially how I found myself in constant quarrel with religion and my sexuality.

During my childhood, I was raised as a regular, Mass-attending Catholic from a devoted Catholic family that also had strong ties to Missouri Synod Lutheran via my dad’s side of the family. Religion was never a delicate subject in the house, and church was a place of sincere reverence and worship. Attendance was not optional, and I personally witnessed how important one’s religion was. This was revealed to me at a young age when I tried to tell my dad’s mother (strong Lutheran) about our first confession and communion catechism, but Dad suggested that Grandma would rather not be reminded that her grandchildren were Catholic.

I remember vividly considering an awe of priesthood, and remembering the premise of the teachings that spoke of love, honesty, compassion, non-violence, service to the community and of leading a “good-life” that is the core of the Catholic teachings. With personal strong feelings of loyalty and willingness to serve, I thought that God might be calling me to the vows of Holy Orders. Therefore, I was dutiful to the Church as an altar boy and then in high school, my duties included cantor and reading scriptures at Mass.

Yet, there was something different about me in comparison to the teachings as I began to realize my attractions did not follow what seemed to be expected of me as a young man. I was not immediately attracted to girls and wanted so much to be a model son for my family but immediately felt guilty by my mysterious sexuality.  I could not why understand those feelings were so considered disgusting and vial by many leaders in the Church because those feelings were no less the reality of my being. I was at pains to ignore them for fear of discovery or worse for disgracing my parents.

During college, there was an effort to stay involved with the Church, but that soon changed for a variety of reasons (e.g. attending regular Mass was not convenient anymore, new town, and changing feelings in general). At this time, I started finding myself aligning with members of the college gay union (UI GLBTU) and studying martial arts.  Many would be asking why a person would hold onto such convictions and devotion to a Church that denied the one’s very existence. That was crushing, and especially when members of the family learned of my apparent change of hearts, the extended family quickly labeled me as supposedly inferior and unworthy.

All of the good nature espoused by the Church and all of the good will that God was supposed to be was utter hypocrisy. Words were used at me, lies told against me, and manipulations of religion as fictitious evidence was destructive to me and my family. A massive collision of faith, family and personal struggle lead to me truly understand bitterness and hate.

Yet, I pursued an aspect of martial arts via the underlying teachings of the techniques.  While my skill and technique grew, I found strength in the new abilities and also in the philosophies from Taoists and Buddhists, like Alan Watts. Partially in my mind, I was trying to understand how these correspond to my home in Catholic teachings, which they share many ideals despite their differences about religion. What these philosophies would do was to show me a way to meditate and to lessen the hate or bitterness that I developed. These philosophies also did not seem to ignore the natural way of the world.

I found solace in the meditations and learned better ways of connecting experiences instead of through bitterness.  Natural logic of the cosmos and infinity of what we do not know had a path. These no longer required to be controlled, and God was no longer the conjured image of an old, wise man sitting on a throne with perfect plans. There was a natural order to things, but the presence of thought and action rested securely with the person conducting them. Focus turns into the betterment of oneself.

Yet, I struggled because I was essentially exiled from the Church with strong animosity towards those that professed good but proceeded to inflict great harm on others in the name of a supposedly “Holy one.” The “holiness” of religion was ridiculed by this, and I turned to despair about any existence as a bag of ego and lies.

I rejected organized religion as a whole and the aspects therein, especially as these parts of society sought to push their sinister hypocrisy upon the whole of our legal system by conscientiously denying equal protections or even the right to marry the one we love.

The loving and compassionate God I learned about in youth was either a far-flung illusion or God was being mocked by what these people were doing and professing. There are a number of people that share this exact sentiment.

Yes, Christianity and Buddhism have perceptible differences of perspective, but they have in them core considerations of what all people seek: to find and to be peace. The leaders of organized religion seemed too often interested in disturbing that peace.  

May your June Pride be in Peace!