A young man in Africa said to me once, “You can’t be a minister, because as a woman, you are not mighty.” I have never forgotten that word. He used the word “mighty.” We don’t use it much in our culture. We don’t talk about “might” very often. We use words like “strong” and “powerful,” but I don’t often hear people in this country talk about might. So, for this young man, women weren’t intended to be ministers because they could not, by nature apparently, be physically strong enough to convey God’s might. At least that’s how I interpreted his meaning.
So, not only were women NOT mighty to him, but God was definitely MIGHTY. Again, we don’t often use that word to talk about God either, do we? We use lots of other words, like good, gracious, merciful, kind, powerful even… but “mighty” is not one that is still comfortable in our vocabularies these days. At least I don’t hear it very often.
When I think of might, I think of the ability to move something – having the physical force to shift something otherwise unmovable. Might has always implied to me – some forcefulness.
And as for ministers, it’s true that we don’t always know whether we have any power to influence or move people or situations at all – any might. A fellow minister named James Howell, pastor of Myers Park United Methodist church in Charlotte, North Carolina, shares about this dilemma in a story called “Staying Power,” in which he describes being called to the hospital late one night, only to learn that a young couple from his church were being told that their baby daughter, whom he had baptized only weeks before, had been discovered to have a malignant tumor intertwined with her spinal cord at the base of the brain. The parents’ anguish was immense, and the minister’s desire to help and do something REAL to make a difference was just as immense. MIGHT of any kind, in this situation, would certainly have been very helpful. But he felt absolutely powerless. Especially, he shared, when another minister related to the family showed up all smiles and platitudes, telling the couple everything would be ok – that God would save their child. Rev. Howell knew there was no way that he could say that with integrity, but he envied the other minister’s confidence and certainty. What he wanted to do was just cry for the pain he shared with this couple and their child. He had no helpful words. And, even being educated in the school of thought that said that just one’s presence – just being there – made a difference, Howell came close that night to leaving the ministry. Never before had he been more confronted by how little “might” he really had. Why hadn’t he gone to medical school, where he could have learned how to really help people?
The United Church of Christ in New Brighton is no cathedral church. We are not a Riverside Church in Manhattan, or a Trinity Church in Chicago, both of which host thousands of people on Sunday mornings, and thousands more during the week in programs and outreach. We don’t have the clout or power to invite big names like James Forbes and Branford Marsellis to come speak on a Thursday afternoon and expect to get big audiences each and every week, like Westminster Presbyterian Church in Minneapolis. We don’t have the space and stature of a Plymouth church that hosts many programs, concerts, lectures, exhibits and even a foundation. We are none of those things. And so, some might say we are not a very MIGHTY church.
And it’s true, we aren’t any of those things. We are tucked away here, between the highway, the road and the lake. We are hardly noticed when people drive by. We have been a presence in New Brighton for more than a hundred years. It was the first church established in this community, but we are no Basilica. We haven’t grown over the years in leaps and bounds, becoming the mega-church of the area. We haven’t needed to build a new mall-sized structure to accommodate all the programs and ministries we are doing. We haven’t done any of these things. You’d think in over 100 years, we might have BECOME something! What’s wrong with us? What are we doing if we, as a church, don’t even have any might?
Our Gospel reading from the book of Luke has Jesus in the church of that time – the temple, with quite a few things going on at once. In one area, there are people commenting on the grandeur and beauty of the temple itself. In another area there are probably Scribes doing their thing in showy fashion. And in another area, following a line of others, perhaps, there is a widow plunking two coins – the smallest value coins that existed then – into the coffers of the church – giving her mite – MITE – as it were, her two cents.
Jesus calls our attention to this woman, and then, to the impermanence of the temple itself, no matter how magnificent it might be, and then, somewhat frighteningly, to the call to faithfulness that will be required of his disciples in an apocalyptic time to come – a time when there will be wars and insurrections, earthquakes, famines, and plagues. A time when faithful followers will be persecuted and handed over, will suffer many things, including the betrayal of family and friends, and will be called to testify to their faith without preparation.
Jesus is sharing here, an apocalyptic vision. He is talking about a time most of us don’t want to think about. The word “apocalypse,” after all, means the same thing as “revelation,” and well, we just don’t like to go there. We don’t like to think about Jesus as a sooth-sayer – a visionary in that way. It makes us uncomfortable to move into the territory of Jesus the psychic, or Jesus the prophet.
But why should it? Because, if we think about it, here we are, aren’t we? I mean, aren’t we LIVING NOW in a time of wars and insurrections? A time of earthquakes, famines, and plagues? Aren’t we living in a time of persecutions and betrayals? Why are we so afraid of hearing what Jesus has to say about these times, when we are living in them? Do we see ourselves as so insignificant a church as to not need to listen to this part of Jesus’ ministry?
Yesterday a report from the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change warned that climate change was happening at a much faster pace all the time, and that the results would be dire in a very short time, especially for the poorest and most disadvantaged people on the planet, as well as for thousands of species on the planet, if we don’t take immediate action. The report included a hopeful note, however. It mentioned that if all the countries on the planet were to make a commitment to change that would cost only .6 percent of our Global Gross Domestic Product, a significant impact could be made.
This is less than is being spent on the War in Iraq.
There’s a revelation for you. We live in a time of revelation. We understand so much more about ourselves, our lives, our context, our science, our politics, our future, our past, our present. We are, potentially, an etremely educated species. We are not living in the dark. We are living in a time when much is being revealed to us, and when we have sooooo much information that we could become overwhelmed by it – indeed, I think we often are. We even have the tools and resources, as a species, to make the changes we need to make. It is being revealed to us over and over.
So, what are we – a little church on the corner of a highway and a street, next to a lake – to do about all of this? We are not significant enough to make a real difference, we might say. But I question this. I really do.
That night at the hospital, after hours waiting in anguish with this young couple as their child cried and cried in pain and fear, Rev. Howell, feeling more and more powerless was almost ready to leave both the hospital and his ministry. But before he could go, something happened. He writes: “Then her parents asked me for a favor. ‘We are exhausted. Caroline won’t stop crying. Could you hold her for a little while so we can step out and take a little break?’ And so I took this child in my arms and rocked her. She cried, and I cried, and then, having expended all her energy, she drifted off to sleep. I kept rocking her until her parents came back, a little bit rested, relieved to see her more peaceful. We placed her gently in the crib, and then I left them, took the elevator downstairs, and stepped through the door into the night.” He continues: “As I felt the chill against my face, I knew I would not quit ministry. It was as if my whole life had been a preparation for this dark evening. All the wrestling with what career to pursue, counsel from professors, the books, papers, degrees, hurdles of ordination: I had been in training for this day, so that on this day I could drive to Durham and give two parents a littlt bit of a rest – and to rock a very sick child to sleep, just to hold this little one who seemed to have as little hope as I did.”
We don’t always have a lot of hope. We don’t always have a lot of power. We may not be mighty at all – there may be nothing in us that is able to be FORCEFUL. We may feel and seem pretty insignificant in the grand sceme of things. But what we mustn’t ever forget, is that the grand sceme is made up of all of us little insignificant people, insignificant ministries, insignificant churches, and insignificant, completely insufficient gifts. But what we DO HAVE, is what we have. What we DO HAVE, is what we have.
That widow had two small coins. It was what she had. It wasn’t a lot of money, but she had it. And she gave it all. Reverend Howell had no words, no magic prayers to make it all better, no wand to wave to make the suffering go away. He didn’t even have a lot of faith that God was going to transform that horrible situation. But he had some. He had enough to be able to say “yes” when asked to hold a crying child. He had THAT MUCH. And he gave it to the situation.
We don’t have a lot of power or influence as a church. We are not a big deal in the grand sceme of things. Maybe your money would be better spent on another charitable organization that’s making a real difference. But think about this. Year after year, this congregation has been able to sustain a ministry of worship, education, fellowship, service, witness and outreach through its own means – through the sharing of resources of its members – alone. And think about this. We may not be a mighty church – we may not be able to force great change in the world, but we are and do have what we are and do have. We are a people who listen carefully to Jesus’ teachings and try earnestly to follow them. So, some follow to the front lines of protest and political causes. Some follow to the front lines of caring for people who are sick and dying and alone. Some follow to the front lines of creating greater integrity in their workplaces. Some follow to the front lines of teaching others more about God and our Christian tradition and ethics. Some follow to the front lines of doing whatever they can to make the world a little better in their corner of it. Some follow to the front lines by teaching their children about boundary breaking love and inclusion of all God’s people – all races, all ages, all economies, and all preferences. All God’s people!
Huge institutions already exist, and we are still in the mess we are in! Size doesn’t change the world. And honestly, might doesn’t really change the world either. What we have, and what we do with it – all of us – every single on eof us – changes the world.
Today, as we give thanks for all the abundance we know as a congregation, as we shine our lights of faith and love together, I invite us to know that God celebrates this with us – that giving what we have to this time of revelation… sharing our mite… this is our great and true strength and power.
Jesus was right. What is required of us now, in this time of much being revealed to us in the way of challenge and responsibility for the planet and for the vulnerable peoples and species of this planet… what is required of us now is not MIGHT, but faithfulness and strength. What is needed from us is to give what we do have – whatever that may be – to the situation. Being part of this little church at the crossroads of a highway and a road and next to a lake is being part of the light of Christ’s love that might someday be a calming embrace in the darkness of a painful night, a cry for justice and righteousness at the capital, a touch of healing during anguish and exhaustion, an opportunity to learn and grow and challenge one’s assumptions, a push for sustainability on this planet, or a word of welcome when the rest of the world seems to shut its doors.
Jesus said, “You will be hated because of my name. But not a hair of your head will perish. By your endurance you will gain your soul.” If someday we, the United Church of Christ in New Brighton, are able to be just one opportunity for healing, sustainability, justice, or peace to someone along the way, then we too will not perish and will gain our souls. In this we can celebrate both our strength, and our mite.
Amen.
