It’s fitting that before Jesus launches
into a discussion of religion and worship, he makes a brief but significant
comment on the object of our worship. In
an effort to pry open the minds and imaginations of His hearers, Jesus throws
out a rhetorical question, basing its query in scripture. “How can the scribes say that the Christ is
the son of David?” The scribes were
looking for an heir to David, to reclaim David’s throne. While understandable, this turns out to be
misguided in that it fails to account for the scope and grandiosity of God’s
plan. Jesus quotes Psalm 110:1 where
David refers to the Messiah as his “Lord”, and asks “why would David refer to
his heir as his Lord?” The only
commentary we receive on the exchange in Mark’s gospel is that the people “heard
him gladly.” Of course, it was
ultimately this message that would get Jesus killed, but people’s reception of
the message doesn’t change the validity or truth of the claim itself. God’s plan for our world is far grander than
we can imagine, and our worship should reflect our appreciation for the grace
and mercy that is the result of that plan, as well as our love for the God who would
put such a costly plan into motion.
When we understand Jesus’ point about the
Messiah, in terms of who the Messiah would be, and also what he would
accomplish, it should shape how we worship.
Such was not the case with the scribes he mentions in the next
section. What is their worship, their
religion about? It’s about places of
honor; it’s about occupying center stage, so that they become the center of
attention. They crave markers of
deference and pretense, markers that are condemned by Jesus. Why?
Because religious leaders aren’t supposed to be above the community,
they are supposed to be a part of the community. They aren’t to be apart from the community,
they are to be among the community. The
scribes Jesus’ referred to longed for prestige and respect, that could then be
transformed into material support, hence Jesus’ comment about “devouring widow’s
houses”. Instead of serving those at the
margins of society, the religious leaders were living off of them. When Jesus speaks of their prayer life, it
makes perfect sense why they would act this way. We see that their prayers were aimed not at God,
the rightful object of our devotion, but at the people around them. They weren’t talking to God, so much as
speaking to those around them. Prayer
had become a convenient way of manifesting self-centered religion. We see from their example what religion isn’t
about, but that doesn’t tell us who it is about.
We all know that the answer to the
question “who is our religion about?” is God, but knowing the answer, and
knowing how to reflect that answer in our lives is two different things. To help us understand what it means to give
ourselves over to God fully, Jesus tells a story about a poor widow and the
offering she makes at the temple. In
those days, the temple had trumpet-shaped receptacles, in which people would
deposit their offering. Larger offerings
of bronze coins would make more noise, and draw attention. (It makes me kind of glad that most offerings
in churches are now made with more stealthy paper currency or with
checks). When the rich came to pour in
their large offerings, it probably sounded like someone hitting the jackpot in
a casino. I’m sure that in more than one
instance, the approving looks of respect were more of a motivating factor than
a desire to honor God when such large contributions were made. The offering of the widow, unlike the
offerings of the rich, probably made very little noise, if any. No one’s attention was drawn by the clanging of
those two small coins hitting the trumpet-shaped receptacle. But something tells me that was ok with
her. I don’t think she walked up to drop
in those coins, hoping that others would notice and talk about how wonderful
she was. I think she gave those two
coins- and the fact that there were two means she could have kept one, and
still given 50% of what she had, no paltry percentage- motivated by her love
for her God. She was giving out of her
necessity, what she needed to live on, rather than out of her surplus, and
Jesus uses that to illustrate the point that true contributions are measured
not by quantity, but by how much of ourselves we give.
We can learn two things from the widow,
and if we take those things to heart they will dramatically alter how we approach
worship, and how we approach our faith.
First of all, our worship should be God-centered. I fear that too many times we worship with
one eye on God, and another on those around us.
Our worship becomes the religious version of over-the-top PDA that we’ve
all witnessed and been disgusted by at some point or another. Such overt “public displays of affection” are
usually about grabbing attention, not displaying affection, and they usually
come from a place of deep insecurity.
Does that mean we never worship in public? Of course not! It simply means that our affection for God,
not getting attention from others, should be what drives our worship and our
faith. The other thing we can learn is
that all of us have something to offer God.
Too often we feel like the widow, standing there looking at the meager
coins in our hand thinking that they will never make a difference. I’d argue that those two small coins might
not have helped the temple make budget that month, but the devotion that they
reflected was worth far more than any amount of money she could have poured
into the offering box. God isn’t looking
for people who can give a lot of what they have; he’s looking for those who are
willing to give all of who they are.
No comments:
Post a Comment