‘Dear Yahweh’

Mark 12:38 – 44

Dear Yahweh,
Only You will know what I hold in my hand as I stand here with all the important men of the synagogue — Scribes, Pharisees, wealthy people. I clasp my fingers around these two half-pennies so no one will see what a pitiful offering I give to you, but, really no one seems to see me, anyway. Interesting how since my husband died I became invisible except for a few kind-hearted people who give me some of their leftover food or coins. Don’t get me wrong; I’m grateful for those leftovers because I know it’s You who put Your kindness into their hearts.

When my husband was alive, I’d come to Synagogue with him and worship, looking forward to the Savior you would one day send us. I fit in back then. Tagging along behind him, I had a place. I miss him sorely, my companion, my friend — and I also miss the companionship of our friends who no longer need to come around since he’s not here any more. Why do they look away, as if they’re embarrassed, when I see them in the marketplace? Am I not the same person I was before I lost him? For the first time, I know what it is to be alone. Invisible. Still, you said, “Yahweh created them male and female in his image.” I am as much of a person as these men.

Yet, these Scribes are men of influence. They’re the policy-setters. Look at what they’re able to do for their Synagogue. I can hear the heavy “clank-clank” of their money that they put in that nicely-polished treasury. I see that man, Jesus, watching them. He certainly must be impressed. I think I’ll just grip on to these little coins and hide them from the men of status in our town, and their wives.

Listen to me! Are you a different God for them than you are for me? Of course not.
One of those guys has hired a weaver to make a new curtain for the tablets, the Holy of Holies. My gift, though, might be enough to cover a few feet of a single thread within the curtain. It almost makes me wonder why I give You this money. It’s all I have to live on.

I’m a fool! What could I give to God that would make any difference? I need this money to buy a handful of lentils.
Those rich guys are the ones who built the temple, this place where we worship you. Still, you said, “Unless Yahweh builds the house, those who build it labor in vain.”

They took my house. I sold it in desperation, but since I’m a woman and I’m not allowed to learn matters of business, I didn’t have a way to argue with them when they told me my house wasn’t worth much. I’d be homeless if they didn’t let me stay in the servants’ quarters. Yahweh, you do provide.

These little coins don’t even have a picture of Caesar stamped on them. And they’re all I have to live on. They’re a metaphor of my life. Without my husband’s identity stamped on me, I have very little worth. So, I suppose what I’m giving you is not just two little coins that aren’t going to make a difference in the synagogue budget, but my very life, blank without your image.

I suppose the smart thing to do would be to hold onto one of these coins. Maybe I could get half a handful of lentils to fix tonight. Or a few seeds to start a garden. All you require is 10 percent of our first fruits. Yet, I don’t know if I could figure out how to chip one-tenth off these pitiful coins.

Certainly you couldn’t require any giving of a widow with no source of income. But a gift doesn’t seem like a gift if it’s given to fulfill a requirement.

The smartest thing to do is hold onto these coins. I think I’ll go find some seeds and plant them and be more self-sufficient.

It’s my turn. I’m here next to the treasury and my hand is now sweaty from hiding this embarrassing gift. Yahweh, all I have to give you is me. I am your daughter. You are my God. If I trust you, I trust you with all of me. I know that I’m not invisible to you. So, once again, I’m not going to play it safe. I’m going to toss these coins and hear them go “tink-tink” into the treasury the same way some men toss dice into a circle. I’m going to trust in you, Yahweh, and I am not embarrassed or intimidated by those important men. I’m here because You are my God and I am your Daughter.

No one even looks my way as I toss them in, but this man named Jesus looks me straight in the eye, and, Yahweh! It’s as if I’m seeing you.
Amen.

Sally Oakes is pastor of Bethany United Methodist Church, 607 Rivers Road, Fayetteville, GA 30214. Sunday school is at 10 a.m., worship at 11 a.m. each Sunday. Phone: 770-964-6999 or 770-964-6992, or e-mail bethanymnc@bellsouth.net. All are invited to the community picnic on Aug. 18. Website: www.gbgm-umc.org/bethany-fayetteville/