Pentecost 25
Sermon Preached by Reverend Michael Hillier on Sunday, 10 November 2024.
Mark 12.38-44
Our gospel reading for today does not make for comfortable reading. We would all prefer to keep going, reading the next section and seeing if there is anything there that captures our attention rather than this one. If, for a moment, we focus on me, I sit in front, lead the service, and wear a long robe. And probably I’ve got the best seat! It’s not comfortable for me to hear that I am privileged.
As you know, I recently participated in a retreat at a monastery in rural Tuscany—a beautiful place in a stunning location. Three of us, who were clergy, had the privilege of staying within the 15th-century monastery proper, whilst the other 38 were in the Guest House, which was initially the stable and built on a grand scale.
On arrival, there was a problem with my door lock, and one of the monks was helping me and said, ‘You must be special; you’ve got the best room!’ (It was two rooms with facilities.) I spent the next week thinking they would wise up and realise they had made a mistake and say, ‘Go down lower; you get a single room with bathroom facilities further down the corridor’. I tried to keep a low profile!
Even the second story of the widow’s mite could be aimed at me. By most of the world standards, I am comfortably off and don’t want for anything. I try to be generous, but I know my generosity has limits, and I don’t really give sacrificially but instead out of my abundance. Just what Jesus points out!
Perhaps in your own way, you can also identify with the stories and feel slightly uncomfortable.
That’s not always bad if it leads to positive change in some way rather than simply feelings of guilt with paralysis to follow. But if we take the first example, how does my just going and sitting in the back row here in St Andrew’s help with ordering the Service apart from producing a sense of chaos? Who is now leading? It can also just create a false feeling of humility on my part.
Now that I have mentioned the word ‘guilt,’ if that is all these two stories produce, that’s not helpful for any of us. So, how might we use these two stories positively and helpfully? How might we use these two stories to help us somehow grow as human beings and in the care of others?
The first thing to note is that I am not convinced that Jesus was talking about everyone. Indeed, He was talking about some, perhaps even the majority, who would take pride in their self importance and others who would be less than generous in their giving. But I think there were many then, as today, who were humble and generous with everything they did.
This might lead us to think, ‘Well, that latter is indeed me, humble and generous!’ And this is the danger and where we can miss the point. So let me come at this slightly differently so we can see how it might speak to each of us in our way and our situations.
I don’t want to play psychologist, I don’t want to try and simply smooth over the darker aspects of each of our lives in pretence, and I don’t want to offer ‘do-it-yourself’ advice for resolving any of this. But I do think we might both face this darker side of our character and begin to find a way forward that recognises the truth of our lives.
Two phrases I remember reading that I sometimes use to describe myself in various situations are my ‘great soul’ and my ‘little soul’. Sometimes, I ask myself, ‘Am I operating out of my “great soul” or my “little soul” in this situation?’ The answer can be revealing, and I need to listen carefully to my inner voice and act on it, not make excuses or simply dismiss it.
I think these scribes mentioned in today’s reading often operated out of their ‘little soul’ and not their ‘great soul’. If they were operating out of their ‘great soul’, they would not be seeking places of honour, not needing to be held in respect by others. They would simply be their true selves. Our ‘small soul’ is our petty soul, our ego, the part of us that demands attention, is self seeking, is easily frustrated and can act like a child.
Our ‘great soul’ is that part of us that is not self-seeking but wants the best for the other, sees a bigger picture, and listens to the distant ‘beat of a different drummer’. There is a generosity of spirit, which somehow is life-giving for the other person rather than sucks the life out of the moment. We also see this when we notice in the other story what the rich give compared to the poor widow, who gives only two small copper coins, which is all she has. She operates from an abundance mentality rather than a scarcity mentality. Somehow, she saw she was rich, though not in monetary wealth. I think she had a full, generous, and grateful heart. She operated from a
‘great soul’ model.
Those rich people operated from a scarcity model. They needed to be seen to be generous but not too generous. It would eat into the capital they had squirrelled away. But they were also very aware of others looking on. They were operating from their ‘little soul’.
Isn’t it interesting that history has chosen to remember this poor widow whose name we don’t even know rather than all these others who probably gave much? There is a deep irony in this.
She gave the least at one level, and at another, she gave the most. And she is the one who is remembered.
Our ‘great soul’ and our ‘little soul’. Two other phrases that can help us clarify these are our ‘False Self’ and our ‘True Self’.
We could say that our True Self is our soul, that deepest part of our being where God resides within us. Colossians 1.27 tells us, ‘The mystery is Christ within you – your hope of Glory!’ Isn’t it wondrous to realise that God is there within you, dwelling in your heart? You are not alone, never alone. Mostly, we don’t recognise this truth. And when we do, how does this change us, even transform us? It should be an extraordinary recognition, something to give thanks for.
Something to fill us with wonder and delight.
Your False Self is not bad; it’s just that it pretends to be what it is not, pretends to be more than it is. It’s your ego. It’s a mask or costume we put on, more to fool ourselves than others who can often see through these. It can be like various identities that younger people can try on as they seek to work out who they are.
These can be an excellent place to start in our search but not a good place to end. These False Selves can revolve around who we are and what we do: our education, our job, the kind of clothes we wear, and the kind of car we drive. In some way, we can mistakenly believe that these things define who we are. Yet we must be reminded that we are operating out of our ego, False Self, and little soul.
Unless we are saints, none of us are squeaky clean regarding many things in our lives: We do not love God with all our heart, mind, and soul. We do not love our neighbour as we should. And nor do we love ourselves in a healthy and life-giving way. We are all wounded and, in some ways, broken—every one of us.
But don’t despair. God is not a divine judge nor a divine policeman looking for any opportunity to put a black mark against our name. No, He is more like a coach who knows us intimately with all our strengths and limitations, has our best interest at heart and wants what is best for us. He sees all that we might be and will be one day and wants only to encourage and entice us onwards.
And so, as you live your life, gently ask yourself, but not in an accusing way, ‘Am I operating at this moment out of my “great soul” or my “little soul”? Am I living out of my “False Self” or my “True Self”’? And even when you find, at times, that you are living out of your ‘little soul’ or your ‘False Self’, give thanks to God that you have been able to recognise and accept this.
Recognition and acceptance are other steps on the journey that can lead to change.
So, take these two stories today as reminders, challenges, and opportunities to grow and be less ego-driven and more generous. Being led by God, you and I are on the most wonderful journey, and for all of us, it is not yet clear what we will become. But it is slowly happening, and for that, we give thanks to God.