Long ago and far away, Jesus preached The Sermon on the Mount. Now, this morning, for Stewardship Sunday in places far and near, many ministers will preach a “Sermon on the Amount.”

They’ll talk about tithing, the annual budget, global mission made possible by members’ generosity and love, the atoning sacrifice of Jesus Christ on the cross, and our great hope of God’s kingdom over all, in all, through all, and above all.

They will tell poignant stories and offer illustrations of men, women, and children who go the extra mile in giving, self-giving and forgiving for the sake of others.

And, at the center of it all in many congregations will be the story of the widow who gave “all she had to live on” (two small coins) to the temple treasury while Jesus and the disciples looked on.

That, after all, is not just my text for the day. It is the recommended Gospel wherever Presbyterian, Methodist, Lutheran, Roman Catholic and other churches choose to follow a common lectionary (or cycle of readings through the Bible).

Sure, a preacher could depart from this text and look elsewhere. But why? Why would I? The widow’s offering has long been held up as the quintessential story of faithful financial support – a model for God’s people.

Just how good is she, this widow? One of my commentaries says that her self-sacrifice anticipates Christ’s self-giving on the cross (Schweizer, Mark, p. 259-260). Both Jesus and the widow gave away “all they had to live on.”

Another commentary compares her to the woman who poured expensive perfume on the head and feet of Jesus shortly before his arrest and crucifixion. Jesus told the disciples she did it “to anoint my body for burial.”

Couldn’t the same be said, in a way, of the widow in the temple … especially since, in the very next verses, Jesus calls his body a temple that will be destroyed and rebuilt in three days? What one does with expensive perfume, the other does with her little pennies. Each one makes a “fragrant” offering to the Lord. His body is anointed.

But why rely on commentaries? We can see for ourselves The woman in today’s reading is remarkable simply for the fact that Jesus noticed her. He noticed her in a crowd where many seemed to have much more to offer she did. And he noticed her in a patriarchal religious culture that focused almost exclusively on men.

It’s as if to say, there are things we do and gifts we contribute for the greater good that no one else notices. But God does. And there are other people who offer good gifts too … that we overlook. But God sees. Our own left hand may not know what the right hand is doing. But God is aware.

So the first (and most typical) reading of this story commends the widow for her gifts. We hear Jesus honor and bless her … and lift her up as an example for us.

But that’s not the only possible reading of the scene. Instead of praising the widow, some folks think that the widow was trapped in an exploitive and oppressive regime. (With that kind of message, we can guess how their stewardship season will go!)

But it doesn’t mean they’re wrong. As evidence, they can point to the psalm we heard which rejoices in God’s power to bring justice to the weak and the lowly … and which cites widows as frequent victims of abuse in that culture, as well as being favored beneficiaries of God’s protection and help.

In the same vein, in the Gospel, before drawing attention to the widow, Jesus says, “Beware of the scribes” who wear fancy clothes and demand to be greeted with respect and who claim seats of honor on fancy occasions … and who “devour widows’ houses.”

One of the shocking revelations of this text may be that the temple itself had become the worst enemy of widows in that culture. And if that’s true, what does it imply, by extension, about the church?

We all know what has been done in the name of God over the centuries to vulnerable people. Think of lavish, gold-crusted cathedrals in Mexico, financed by the sweat and sacrifice of peasant farmers. Or the church in the Middle Ages selling indulgences, supposedly to help the loved ones of poor families to find their way to heaven, but actually to pay for ornate robes and ostentatious excesses in religious landmarks across Europe.

It is scary to read this text that way, because it forces me at least to consider what it costs every year to heat and cool and maintain this big building. I’m not saying the building is bad or that we shouldn’t keep it up – only that we have to beware not to “devour widows’ homes,” or take their last pennies to save God’s house.

Indeed, in the Hebrew language that Jesus spoke, the word “widow” is derived from a word that means “one who is silent” – or unable to speak up to defend herself.

Could it be that Jesus is speaking up for her, not with praise (as we usually think), but with a lament on her behalf?

Why stop there? There is a third option for reading the text – a way not as naively happy as the first reading, nor as gloomy as the second, but a synthesis of the two that is realistic and helpful for us.

It starts with the honest admission, as the second reading does, that the world is not perfect. And religious institutions aren’t perfect, either.  All human-led systems on earth are subject to sin and abuse.

It’s easy to find crooks on Wall Street, and con men in every country who dress up as clergy. On an otherwise typical day on an army base in Texas, one man can snap, resulting in a terrible tragedy and myriad unanswerable questions.

People in all walks of life can have great regard for God and neighbor. Or no regard at all, but only a consuming desire for personal gain.

It’s what we call the Doctrine of Original Sin, and it has been with us as long as human beings have had power to make up their own minds to do evil or good. We don’t always make the right choice. In fact, we are prone to doing wrong.

But – as the first reading of the passage indicates – some folks (like the widow) remain faithful and engaged, even so. She doesn’t withdraw. She doesn’t grow cynical or use institutional imperfection as an excuse to be uninvolved. In a flawed, unjust and overwhelming personal situation, she hangs in there, doing the right thing. In a sad and trying circumstance, she commits herself and her meager resources, along with her ultimate hope … to God and God’s people.

Not naive to reality around her, but confident that God will win out in the end, she invests (financially and otherwise) at the place where God and humankind intersect … and where new beginnings are possible.

Consider what has happened in other denominations these days – Lutherans and Episcopalians are dealing with terrible losses. People are withholding their giving. They are joining up with the opposition. Or they’re just dropping out.

Presbyterians too have succumbed to that behavior over the years when a vote doesn’t go a certain way, or when a lightning rod figure gets financial support from the denomination for inscrutable reasons. (I don’t know that it’s happened lately. But it happened 40 years ago. And some folks are still mad about it.)

But not the widow. She doesn’t quit or cast aspersions on others, or dwell on the negative when times are tough and the chips are down. I don’t know what the national economy was like in Israel at the time, or how anyone else’s investments were doing in Jerusalem National Bank. But I know the widow’s own personal economy was in shambles. She could have used that as an excuse to hold back … a little or a lot.

The third reading confesses that the world isn’t perfect. And the church isn’t either. Our lives have countless obstacles and challenges on all levels. Even when we are at our best, things go wrong sometimes … through no fault of our own, or God, or anyone else.

But we’re called to be faithful. We are called to believe in God’s ability to lead us through the dark valley and the looming shadow of death. We are called simply to be faithful.

So blessed be the ones (like the widow) who “invest” in hope! Blessed be the ones who give of their substance for God’s praise and glory … and for the transformative mission of the church in the world!

Two thousand years after that widow and the man who pointed her out, we’re still in business. God hasn’t failed us yet. After so many generations, the widow’s little contribution continues to pay dividends for you and me and countless others! What an investment!

I know a couple who put a house on the market over a year ago, and bought another, slightly larger home for their growing family. Then the market collapsed. Their timing, as you know, couldn’t have been worse. Homes quit selling. They couldn’t find a buyer for the one they had moved out of. They couldn’t make two mortgage payments at once. The bank foreclosed on their old house. But even that wasn’t the end. One of them got sick, long-term, so their household income was cut in half. They had nowhere to turn.

But the church – this church – heard … and began to help out.

We gave them hope. Did we fix the problem? No. But we let them know they aren’t alone in this cold, difficult, challenging world. They’ve still got their work cut out for them. But they know – at least I think they know, with the help of the church and the love of God – that all is not lost.

I know church members who don’t come to church often, but when they go in the hospital, we visit them. And they are overwhelmed with gratitude. They don’t feel they deserve it. But they cry tears of joy as we pray together.

I know people without health care, people laid off from work, people who never thought it would happen, but have to go to the ’Tosa Food Pantry on a regular basis. Because of what you bring on Communion Sundays, we are there for them.

We deal with unjust systems every day. We live in an imperfect world. We can’t do it all. We can’t meet every demand. There are people who will be cynical and sarcastic about it. Others will be naively optimistic early and disillusioned later on.

What about us? Can we? Will we … be faithful in an unjust and overwhelming world?

Our stewardship commitment answers that question.

Whatever commitment you make, large or small, may it be …