pentecost 23 Year B

Ruth 3: 1-5; 4: 13-17 NRSV text
Psalm 127 NRSV text
Hebrews 9: 24-28 NRSV text
Mark 12: 38-44 NRSV text

It seems clear once again that the Lectionary compilers just don’t “get” what’s happening in the Markan narrative! Or at least, it’s clear that their approach is not concerned with the narrative flow of the gospel, but rather with Mark’s individual “pearls” – the various pericopes in isolation from one another. It’s standard historical critical exegesis and, as you’ll have gathered from previous posts here, I find it an unhelpful way of reading Mark. It fails dismally to do justice to the dramatic narrative that’s unfolding; more than that, however, it blunts us to Jesus’ searing and radical criticism of the social, political and religious structures of his day. Let me try to clarify what I mean.

If you read the Lectionary texts for today as two “pearls “ – two originally separate “Jesus stories” that Mark has put next to one another here, what you get is the obvious connection between the two that scholars have long recognised: the connection between the scribes who “devour widows” and the poor widow in the next pericope who puts her last coins into the temple treasury. So far, so good. But then Jesus’ comments about the widow’s mite seem like a spiritual object lesson – “Don’t look at the amount; look at what it has cost her! She gives far more sacrificially than the rich people!” That’s how I learned this story in Sunday School. What we are missing here is Jesus’ criticism of the widow’s action – the sense in which she is mistaken in thinking that this is what is required of her! That comes when we take Mark’s narrative as a whole into account. Jesus is not holding her up as an example of true piety so much as the unfortunate victim of a corrupt temple cult – an example of precisely how the scribes “devour widows’ houses”!

Mark’s story: Jesus goes on the attack
By missing out 12: 35-37, the Lectionary compilers force us to miss out a vital transition in Mark’s narrative of Jesus and the temple. Let’s rewind a moment and see where Mark has led us:

1. Jesus enters Jerusalem to acclaim as the Davidic Messiah (11: 1-11)
2. He then enters the temple, where his first action is to drive out the moneychangers and sellers (11: 15-16). He calls the temple “a den of robbers” (11: 17).
3. The response of the chief priests and scribes is to try and kill him, because the crowds are “spellbound” by his teaching – his opposition to them (11: 18).
4. He returns to the temple the next day. This is the occasion for a series of confrontations with the chief priests, scribes and elders (11:27) centred around the clash of authority: what authority does Jesus have for acting and teaching as he does (11: 28). The issue for the temple authorities is this: “How dare you come in here and upset the system? This is God’s house and we are the gatekeepers! What’s wrong with the system?”
5. Note Jesus’ response: he asks them about the origins of John’s baptism (11: 29-30)! His point here is that both his and John’s ministries are clearly from God, but because they happen outside the established temple cult, and both marginalise and criticise it, the authorities refuse to acknowledge it. They have too much vested in the system! For them, if it happens outside the temple system, it cannot – by definition – be of God.
6. He goes on to tell the parable of the wicked tenants against them (12: 1-12). They are wicked. They will resist God to the point of murder. And of course, the parable revolves around the fact that the vineyard owner is God and Jesus is the murdered son.
7. The confrontations take place as the authorities wheel in the various groups to try and trap Jesus: the Pharisees and Herodians, the Saducees and, as we saw last week, one of the scribes (11: 13-34). This ends with Jesus’ opponents being silenced. They not only feared the crowds, but “didn’t dare to ask him any more questions” (12: 34).
8. Up until now, Jesus has been called to justify his authority. It has been a case of the temple authorities saying, “Ve are in charge in zis place! Ve ask der kvestions here!” Now it’s Jesus’ turn!
9. In the silence following his defeat of the last of the “strong men”, Jesus goes on publicly and metaphorically to “ransack their house”, just as he did when he first entered the temple. And his first move is publicly to distance himself from the imperial cult of a restored Davidic kingdom (12: 35-37). This is a remarkably important moment. Jesus has entered Jerusalem to acclaim as the one who is about to restore David’s kingdom (11: 10). This is what both the crowds and the disciples understand by and want of their “Messiah”. The term is, for them, controlled and given content by a vision of a restored monarch and a restored state of Israel, centred upon the temple. It is a criticism of Rome’s colonial domination, not of the Jewish socio-political system bound up in the temple cult of sacrifice. The latter is regarded as unproblematic.

A different sort of Messiah
Jesus has at least two quarrels with this version of messiahship: the first is that royal power is “power over” others, and Jesus stands in the tradition of prophetic denunciation of the way in which this power corrupts what God intends for human society. God’s power is concerned with the protection of the vulnerable: “the widows and orphans”. The Davidic model of monarchy and temple is responsible (in his view) for making and exploiting outcasts. This is what he has been trying – unsuccessfully - to get through to the disciples.

Secondly, the vision of a restored Davidic kingdom is narrowly parochial. The kingdom that Jesus proclaims embraces the whole world. It is a vision of the world as God intends it to be. God is Lord not only of Israel but of the whole earth – an earth on which God’s will is done perfectly. A restored Davidic kingdom reduces Yahweh to the level of a tribal god.

Jesus’ question about David’s Son is not a question of genealogy, but of ideology. It is not David who controls the picture of what the Messiah should be, but the Messiah who ought to define what kingship (power) is about! Jesus here is being radically unorthodox in his messianic theology. Two things are going on here. Mark is emphasising the point made in the opening verse of the gospel: Jesus (the Messiah) is not David’s son but God’s Son. But note what follows from this: it means not only that Jesus has authority to criticise notions of royal power (“power over”), but also the temple (to which Davidic royal power was inextricably linked).

I cannot emphasise enough the latter point. This is a section of the gospel, set in the temple, in which Jesus denounces the whole temple system as exploitative (“den of robbers”). It is a system that “devours widows’ houses”. And this section ends with Jesus leaving the temple for the last time, looking back on it, and announcing its imminent destruction (13: 1-2).

Jesus denounces the scribes
It is in the wider narrative context of Mark’s narrative of Jesus’ final moments in the temple that we can turn our attention to the very last two of his “temple teachings”. Jesus is teaching the “large crowd” in the temple. He has just had a go at the scribal teaching about the Royal Messiah. Lest anyone think that he was having some sort of generalised theological discussion about messianic theology, Jesus now makes absolutely clear what his problem with the scribes is: their theology about the Messiah is used to legitimate the kind of power that they themselves love to wield over others.

And so he begins: “Beware of the scribes!” This isn’t a theological debate. He is warning his listeners that the scribes are guardians of a system that is ranged against the kingdom of God. Their theology is not “innocent”. It is ideologically driven. “It’s all about power and influence”! Look at what they “love”:

• To walk around in long robes (a sign of influence)
• To be greeted with respect in the marketplaces (ie to have people grovel and fawn)
• To have the best seats in the synagogues
• To have the paces of honour at banquets

Hardly flattering, is it? These are the things they “love” – their priorities. These are the things that they work tirelessly to achieve and maintain. They love the trappings of power and influence – to be “above” people. They are supposed to be ministers of God, and yet are the very antithesis of being “servants” (Jesus’ own criterion for greatness in kingdom terms). But there is worse to come: “They devour widows’ houses and for the sake of appearance say long prayers” (12: 40).

Jesus is here referring to two related things. The first is that the scribes were often appointed as executors of the estates of men who had died, because the widows (being women!) were presumed to be incapable of such responsibility. The “long prayers” is a reference to their claim to piety – that, being godly men, they could be relied upon not to take advantage of their position and exploit the widows. In fact, it was a system that was widely abused. Scribes acting as executors regularly used their power to siphon off money and property from these estates for themselves, “devouring the widows’ houses” and reducing them to poverty.

But secondly – and more importantly – the temple system of sacrifice itself exploited the poorest and most vulnerable. Having to pay for sacrifices meant that the poorest had their meagre resources continually depleted by a system that was supposed to express God’s grace! Poor people – particularly widows who had no protection or ready source of income – had to ensure that they at least paid the temple taxes. In this sense, the scribes (administers of the system) “devoured widows’ houses” without compassion and became rich at their expense. The burden of Jesus’ “Beware of the scribes!” is therefore a structural criticism. While individual scribes might not use executive power to defraud widows and other poor people, they were part of a system (the temple) that did! This is why Jesus appears to think it impossible for scribes to become disciples: they would have to cease being scribes (see last week’s post)!

The widow’s mite: a case of exploitation
We need to see a far more direct link between what Jesus has just said and the very next incident than biblical scholarship has traditionally made. Imagine how a film-maker or director of a play would set this up. Jesus “sits down opposite the treasury” (v41). He is a spectator – a critical observer of the system in action. The door to the treasury is open. People queue up to go in and make their offering. They tell the scribe on duty what the offering is for. The scribe declares its purpose and the amount for all to hear (the accountant has to know in order to write it down).

As Jesus watches, many rich people go in. He hears the large sums of money announced. Then a poor widow – precisely the sort of person he has just been speaking about – goes in. She gives the scribe two of the smallest coins in circulation. They total less than a penny. The scribe isn’t impressed! “This isn’t nearly enough! You’ll have to better than that!” he says. “But it’s all I have!” the widow protests. “Nonsense! Go home if you have to, and get some more money. This won’t do!” “Sir, there’s no point in going home. There’s nothing there. I’m not lying – this is all I have. I am a widow. I have no husband, or anyone else that I can ask for more. It is the last of my money.” And so the scribe grudgingly takes the very last of the woman’s money, announcing the amount in a voice thick with contempt.

Do you see the point? Jesus watches as the scribe takes the last of the woman’s money! He doesn’t tell her to keep it and use it for food. He takes it – as though that is what God demands!

“Can’t you see what I’m getting at?”
Jesus now calls his disciples to him – the group that has been “missing” since 11:25. In this incident (11: 20-25), Peter has addressed Jesus as “Rabbi”. Jesus has taught them something from the withered fig tree. That teaching ends with a statement about free forgiveness: “Whenever you stand praying, forgive”. Forgiveness cannot be bought. It must be offered freely – because God offers it freely! Forgiveness involves not only forgiveness of wrongs (as in this instance) but also the remission of debt (as in the Jubilee Year).

And now Jesus Rabbi calls the disciple to him in order to teach them about why he refuses to be the sort of Messiah who is bound up with power and with the temple. He prefaces this with the solemn “Amen”. In effect he’s saying, “Look! See what you’re advocating when you want me to be your kind of messiah! You’ve heard all I’ve said to you. You’ve been with me among the poor people – the people on the margins. You’ve seen how desperate their lives are. And you’ve heard me tell them about a God who loves and welcomes them. You’ve also heard me having a go at the people and systems that make people poor and desperate. Well, here’s an example! Can’t you see what’s wrong with this whole system? Can’t you understand why it makes me so mad, when the religious system makes people think that they owe God their very livelihoods? And you want me to be a part of all that! You’d love to buy into it, wouldn’t you? You’d love to be walking around town and have people grovelling at your feet, fawning over you, inviting you to their parties. Well, the system stinks! And trying to make out that it’s God’s system is just cynical manipulation. It’s obscene. The tragedy of it is that it convinces people like that poor widow – who’s just handed over her last two coins – that that’s what piety is all about, and that’s what God is like!”

Desperate situation, desperate remedies (Ruth 3: 1-5; 4: 13-17)
Hey ho! Welcome to the censored version of Ruth, courtesy of the Lectionary compilers! This is Ruth with all the juicy bits missed out – the sanitised version that goes from “Go and meet Boaz tonight on the threshing floor” (nudge nudge, wink wink) to “So they got married and lived happily ever after”!

This is actually a pretty racy story! Naomi tells Ruth to go and seduce Boaz (lots of biblical euphemisms about “uncovering feet”) and ensure that he’s so overwhelmed by the experience that he marries her! And that’s exactly what happens. In one sense, it’s a heart-warming (or should that read, “feet-warming???) story. It’s certainly a little bit “tabloidy” for something in the Bible – but then, the Bible is never short on reality!

And the reality is that vulnerable people – particularly women – have to resort to desperate measures in order to survive. Ruth is much like the widow in today’s gospel story. She is alone, with no one to protect her, care for her and feed her. That’s how it was in those days. In order to flourish, she needed a man to marry her and she had to give him children. She also had to ensure that she didn’t annoy him so that he threw her out on the streets. And so Ruth uses her best assets – sex and beauty. She acts to ensure that both she and Naomi will be protected. As a poor woman, reduced to gleaning, it’s her only hope.

Fortunately, Boaz is rich, kindly and honourable. It is a story with a happy ending. But it’s not a love story! The love in this tale is the love between Naomi and Ruth. And love for Naomi drives Ruth to sell herself to Boaz for protection. It’s not a million miles away, in other words, from the stories of sex trafficking in women that we are hearing so much of at the moment. These are shocking, heart-rending tales of women from Eastern Europe finding themselves in a foreign land and ending up in British brothels. It’s a story repeated in all our major western democracies.

The happy ending of Ruth mustn’t distract from the life-situation it depicts of how vulnerable and potentially exploitable women often are, and of how ruthlessly they are, in fact exploited. It raises the same sorts of questions that Jesus faces: what sorts of systems do we build and maintain that have this sort of exploitation at their heart? Why do we keep them going? Why aren’t we motivated to do something about it – out of compassion and because of who we understand God in Christ to be?

The end of the sacrificial system (Hebrews 9: 24-28)
We’ve seen Jesus denouncing the sacrificial system in today’s gospel reading. However good it is in intention, and however much it is supposed to express God’s grace and forgiveness, its institutionalisation in the temple system of sacrifice meant that, for him, it was hopelessly compromised because of its potential for exploitation – just as hopes for a restored Davidic kingdom were similarly compromised.

In today’s passage from Hebrews, we discover the way in which Jesus’ death brings and end to the sacrificial system by rendering it obsolete. The writer uses the image of the temple as a “shadow” of the heavenly sanctuary. As the High Priest enters into the very presence of God (the Holy of Holies) to offer a yearly sacrifice of atonement on his own behalf and that of the people, Jesus offers himself within the heavenly sanctuary itself. It is a “once-for-all” offering. It renders the old system obsolete by fulfilling it. Jesus alone is able to offer such a sacrifice, because it is on behalf of others, rather than himself. It is a “better” sacrifice than the temple sacrifices, because it is an offering of himself, rather than an animal on his own behalf. And it is “final” because he died once and has been resurrected, never to die again. Resurrection is what makes Christ’s death a sacrifice. If he is never to die again, he cannot “offer himself again and again” because he cannot die again and again. And if it is not intended that he should die again and again, it shows that there is no more need for sacrifice!

That is the argument of the writer to the Hebrews. The sacrificial system has been rendered obsolete because there is no more need for sacrifice. We cannot do anything further to receive God’s forgiveness because it has been done freely and willingly by Jesus. Nothing remains to be done.

Sacrifice is costly. Forgiveness costs far more than two small copper coins. It costs more than all the animals and all the wealth of the rich that poured into the temple coffers. It cost the life of God’s own Son. What enraged Jesus was that the temple system lied to people. It told them that forgiveness was costly – but that the cost had to be borne by them! It told them that forgiveness cost the life of a poor, vulnerable widow. The miracle of grace is that the cost was borne by God and his Son, Jesus. All the cost. It was borne out of love and the free offering of himself for us by Jesus – so that to us, forgiveness comes as the utterly free gift of grace! Hallelujah!

Amen.