Sermon by Rich Novak on 11.10.2025
This has been a rough week. One of our most beloved members of Emanuel, Jeff Nokes, from one of our most beloved families at Emanuel, was suddenly struck down in an instant and died. We were just with him – joking, telling stories, enjoying his wit and wisdom – and then boom. We are left heartbroken, speechless, aghast. But then we are reminded of how fragile life is and that truly, as the Gospel of Matthew states “you know not the day or the hour when the Lord will return”. But I must admit that at various times since hearing this news, I have been angry. Yes, angry at God. How could you allow this to happen to one of your faithful servants? How could someone who, by all accounts, tried to live a faith-filled life be struck down in a moment like this?
And then in looking for some comfort I fall back to the words of Rabbi Harold Kushner who wrote “When Bad Things Happen To Good People” as a contemplation on the death of his son due to a degenerative disease. As a devout person, Rabbi Kushner admits that his first response was to ask “why did God permit such suffering?” Where he ends up is, I believe, in the same faith statement that we profess. God does not intervene to prevent tragedy, nor does God punish or reward people based on their actions. God values human free will over interference. Given that, bad things can indeed happen to good people. Think Job in the Hebrew Scriptures. The takeaway – although God may not intervene in every misfortune, God offers love and strength to those who seek God’s aid. Rabbi Kushner also tells us that we must go through the grieving process and adds that prayer and participation in a religious community provide the best path to healing.
And so we are left picking up the pieces in the aftermath of this tragedy. We must rely on prayer and this faith community to pick ourselves up but, more importantly, to be there for the Nokes family as they walk through this painful journey.
We experienced another shock to the system and, frankly, to our faith community this week as well. Our long-standing support for the least of us – the poor, the hungry, the unhoused, the migrant, the abused, the marginalized – has seemingly been challenged, if not upended, in this presidential election. Hurtful and destructive words and promises that were used to describe our neighbors, not our enemies, were not condemned by a majority of voters, but rather were embraced. Never has such vile and debasing rhetoric been part of a national presidential campaign in the history of this country. Never. Ever. All of us, everyone one of us, comes from someplace else. And yet too many of our fellow citizens were eager to slam that door shut. I got in. You go home. And we saw our faith blasphemed by the surreptitious work of so-called Christian nationalists. And we did not condemn that nor did we speak out when our neighbors were being attacked. Again, I come back to Rabbi Kushner and ask “how could God let this happen?” How could humans be so cruel to other humans? And Rabbi Kushner’s words come racing back – God does not intervene to prevent tragedy, nor does God punish or reward people based on their actions, valuing human free will over interference. Given that, bad things can indeed happen to good people.
We used to have a banner on the Emanuel outreach building that echoed the words of Martin Niemoller, a prominent Lutheran pastor in Germany. You remember it? “First they came for the socialists, and I did not speak out—because I was not a socialist. Then they came for the trade unionists, and I did not speak out—because I was not a trade unionist. Then they came for the Jews, and I did not speak out—because I was not a Jew. Then they came for me—and there was no one left to speak for me.”
I don’t care about your politics, your party affiliation, how you voted or if you did not vote. What I care about is what happens to the least among us, the people that Emanuel has cared about deeply for at least the last 30 years that I have personally witnessed. What do we do now? Will we live up to and live out our inherited faith tradition, emulated by Pastor Martin Niemoller, and speak out? Or will we be silent and then no one will speak for us when they come for us, to paraphrase Martin. If we profess to be faith-filled Christians, and that is a big if, then our focus needs to be not on the promises of this world, but on God’s realm. Through Jesus, we have been given a guide on how to love and care for others. And as we see in this week’s readings, we have some instruction for how to act.
In the first reading in Kings, the widow of Zarephath labors under a death sentence. It may not be apparent, but the widow is in a dire situation when Elijah, instructed by God, comes to her and asks for food. She says, “I am gathering a couple of sticks, to take home and make a meal for myself and my child. We will eat it, and then we will die” (1 Kings 17:12). In great despair, Elijah finds the widow preparing for her own “last supper.” As the Elijah narratives indicate, however, the God of Israel specializes in feeding the hungry (1 Kings 17:1-7) and raising the dead (1 Kings 17:17-24). And this story is no exception.
But let’s reflect first on Elijah’s words. He speaks crazy talk. When his eyes see only scarcity, he talks about abundance. The prophet assumes provision, when the widow’s words speak only of desolation. Elijah brings a word of faith into a moment of deep fear and resignation. After hearing about the widow’s preparations for death, Elijah gives the widow the same word of promise God gave to Hagar: “Fear not” (1 Kings 17:13; cf. Genesis 21:17). The prophet goes on to speak as if the promise of God was already fulfilled: “Don’t be afraid! Go home and do what you said. But first make a small cake of bread for me from what you have and bring it to me; and then make something for yourself and for your child” (1 Kings 17:13). Elijah’s words, although seemingly absurd, actually invite the widow to participate in the new reality God’s promises were creating, but which for the moment remain hidden from view.
Elijah then further clarifies God’s promises: “the God of Israel says the jar of flour will not be used up and the jug of oil will not run dry until the day YHWH makes it rain on the land” (1 Kings 17:14). God will provide the widow and her child the means to survive this terrible drought. Once condemned to hunger, death, and suffering, the widow is given a new word that nullifies her original death sentence. Death is swallowed up in promise, despair in hope. The reversal of death in this story (vv. 8-16) anticipates the literal reversal of death in the next (vv. 17-24).
Today’s second reading from the letter to the Hebrews provides a different lens and places its message within the context of the early Christian community. For generations, Christians had been waiting for Jesus to appear a second time. Writing about two decades after Jesus’ death and resurrection, Paul seems so convinced of Jesus’ imminent return that he instructs engaged couples not to marry (1 Corinthians 7). Hebrews is a particularly challenging book to hear, read and interpret but one aspect is very clear – the attempt to balance the “already” and the “not yet” of Jesus’ saving work. The author of Hebrews makes a bold and audacious claim that, because of Jesus’ once-for-all sacrifice, Christians can enter the holy presence of God. Those facing struggles and crises can access Jesus’ constant intercession on behalf of his human siblings.
But the “not yet” leaves room for the biblical tradition of lament. When we hear another news report about children killed in bombings across the globe or a shooting in a classroom just outside our city, or we are shocked at the sudden death of our loved one or we are astonished by the cruelty of others, we can be reminded that we are still a people waiting for God to set all things right, to finally vanquish sin and death. In this case, the end of this week’s passage is a helpful precursor to the Advent season of waiting. “Christ was offered once to bear the sins of many, and then will appear a second time—not to deal with sin, but to save those who are waiting for Christ’s appearing.”
Our Gospel reading today provides yet a third lens through which to view the mind of God, the word and ministry of Jesus and the implications for us today. As with so many of the parables, today’s parable operates on multiple levels with multiple meanings. That is no mistake; it is intentional.
We’ve heard these words before, again and again, and perhaps we have tuned them out, become immune to them or, at the very least, failed to appreciate the implications.
“In his teaching, Jesus said, “Beware of the religious scholars who like to walk about in long robes, be greeted obsequiously in the market squares, and take the front seats in the synagogues and the places of honor at banquets. These are the ones who swallow the property of widows and offer lengthy prayers for the sake of appearance. They will be judged all the more severely.”
To understand this better, it is important to remember the historical context of the Temple at the time of Jesus. (Read excerpt from Aslan’s Zealot re: temple)
Peter did say that the disciples had left everything and followed Jesus (10:28). Jesus said in reply that anyone who leaves one’s “house [Greek oikia] or brothers or sisters or mother or father or children or fields for my sake and for the sake of the good news” (10:29) would be rewarded. This saying well applies to the disciples because they left their families and possessions behind. Peter, Andrew, James, and John had their own boats and nets (1:16–20). Peter and Andrew had a house (Greek oikia, 1:29). Peter had a wife (1 Corinthians 9:5) and a mother-in-law (Mark 1:30).
By contrast, the widow’s two small copper coins (12:42) are as good as nothing. The coins are not like the “everything” the disciples left behind. The widow would have not been so poor if her husband had left enough for her, if she had an adult son or father who could support her, or if she had remarried. It looks like our widow did not have a house, brothers, sisters, mother, father, children, or fields—anyone or anything that would have helped her financially.
The Jesus we know does not ask the destitute to squeeze themselves to the last drop to serve God. Rather, Jesus comforts and blesses them. He condemns the rich and the powerful who exploit the poor.
Jesus critiques the scribes harshly. In verses 35–37, Jesus implies that they do not understand the Scriptures, especially regarding the Messiah; that is part of why they not only fail to recognize Jesus as the Messiah but also oppose him. In verses 38–40, Jesus critiques the scribes’ social and religious practices. The most relevant part is verse 40, in which Jesus says that the scribes “devour widows’ houses” (Greek oikia in the plural).
If the leaders had kept the Law (for example, Deuteronomy 24:19–20; 26:12–13) and feared God, who is portrayed as the ultimate defender of widows in many passages of the Hebrew Bible, the widow in our passage would have not become that poor. The widow’s extreme poverty is the evidence that the leaders have failed.
I feel that the Gospel of Mark is asking the following question here: When does a temple of God hit the rock bottom and lose its reason to exist? Is it when merchants do business in the temple (11:15–16)? Is it when the religious leaders challenge the authority of the Son of God in the temple (11:27–28)? Is it when they seek to trap the Messiah politically (12:13–15)? Is it when they misunderstand the Scriptures (12:24, 35)? Is it when they say long prayers for the sake of appearance (12:39)?
Jesus was sitting down at the Court of the Women in the temple, looking at the “exceedingly beautiful and lofty columns” there. He turned his eyes to the temple treasury, knowing that the temple had already accumulated immense wealth. He saw “many rich people” (12:41) offer large sums of money. Perhaps it was when a widow put in her last coins that the temple hit the rock bottom.
The presence of one destitute widow questions the reason for the temple’s existence. As always in Mark, the disciples fail to understand: one of them said, “Look, Teacher, what large stones and what large buildings!” (13:1). While the disciples were amazed at the splendid appearance of Herod’s temple, Mark’s Jesus saw no reason for the temple to exist anymore—not even a stone upon a stone.
As many of you know, Ann and I recently returned from a trip to Scotland. One of the places that we visited was the Cathedral in Glasgow. This kirk has operated as a church for over 1050 years. And we think we have an old building? Ha! The church, the cathedral, before the Reformation, was a Roman Catholic cathedral. It sits on one of the highest parts of the city of Glasgow and sits on High Street, the only pathway to Merchant City. In old times, farmers, craftspeople and others would travel from the countryside to sell their wares in the market city of Glasgow. To do so, however, they had to pass the Cathedral and pay a toll to go down High Street to the merchant area. The church collected these tolls and used them to live large, buying up more and more land at the top of the hill and the surrounding area, amassing great wealth and fueling a pretty comfortable life for the many clergy who were engaged in Cathedral duties. The Roman Catholic church also declared this Cathedral to be a pilgrimage site, due to the relics of St. Kentigern, commonly known as St. Mungo, and so pilgrims came from everywhere, at great personal sacrifice, to visit the shrine, pay the fees and perhaps even buy some indulgences. It doesn’t sound a whole lot different than the Temple in Jerusalem that Jesus railed against.
Fast forward to the Reformation and it was no surprise that the people rebelled because they had enough. They saw the abuses of this system and a so-called religious institution that was more about enriching itself than living out the words of Jesus, so reminiscent of the story in today’s Gospel reading. And so the Cathedral was overrun, the Roman Catholics were run out and the Protestants took over. The Roman Catholic archbishop, who hid in a little room off of the altar area, escaped to France with his life. Large 4 inch thick oak doors still hold lead from bullets that were fired when the church was reformed. John Knox, originally a Roman Catholic priest, led the Scottish Reformation. Interestingly, the people protected the church building from destruction in part because of its prominent role as a focal point for the community. Is this when this temple hit rock bottom too?
It is an amazing building to see that now is a major figure in the Church of Scotland (Presbyterian) that is actively engaged in various ministries serving the poor, the hungry, the disenfranchised, the least among us. The volunteer guides are wonderful and they ask the tens of thousands of visitors to look beyond the beauty and splendor of the building to consider the contemporary work of this Kirk.
And here we are. We come full circle and have to ask: have we too hit rock bottom? Our hearts are crushed by the passing of our friend. Our hearts are broken by a majority of our fellow citizens who so willingly demonized others and were enablers to debasing and destructive language. Will we learn from the words of Elijah to put our trust in God? Will we abide the words and actions of Jesus and double down on serving the least among us? Will we speak up like Pastor Niemoller or will we be silent? Finally, if we fail to live up to and live out our baptismal calling, will we be in a situation like the Jesus in Mark’s gospel who saw no reason for that temple to exist and have no reason for this temple of Emanuel to exist? Our faith, our trust and our hope is in God, made manifest in Jesus. May we serve as Christ.