I get a lot of e-mails from church members. Some critical; some complementary. Some political; some even funnier. People send religious jokes that have been around forever, but I enjoy them anyway. And being that the e-mails are sent to the pastor, all tend to be clean. Here's an example of a story I first heard in seminary, and I receive a variation three or four times a year. In terms of this weekend and in relation to our Gospel text, the story is relevant. Here's the Reader's Digest version: a little boy is in the church narthex looking at a bronze plaque listing members of the congregation who died in the service. The boy says, "Which service Dad? 8:30 or 11:00?"

We tend to laugh without really thinking. To the mind of a little boy, worship services seem to go on forever; the notion that some people don't survive to the benediction seems reasonable and a bronze plaque in their memory seems appropriate. But, how poignant when we begin to think about the joke. Especially this Veteran's Day weekend. War is hell and all-too-many veterans have died in the service. They die in the desert, far from home and - how can this be? - as near as Ft. Hood Texas. These veterans have given their all to their country. To my knowledge, nobody from Grace has died in the service, but there are many veterans worshipping with us this morning. Thank you all!

This story of the boy in the narthex also resonates with our Gospel text. We hear again of the widow who gives her all to the Temple. Sure giving your money is different than giving your life, but it is the same sense of sacrifice for a higher cause. And so this Veteran's weekend Sunday morning, in the name of the Savior who gave his last drop of blood for the sake of the world, we focus on this nameless, now famous, widow.

But first, this. Two weeks ago I had mixed emotions at our anniversary service when we named our classroom building the "Ethel Anderson Educational Wing." We unveiled a bronze plaque, which has since been mounted in the classroom hallway. Now this isn't all that unusual. Most of us have been in temples and churches where at the end of each pew a bronze plate had been fastened. Where each stained glass window had the name of the donor etched into the glass. Where the base of the candelabra, and the bottom of the offering plates, and the ..., well you get the point: there was more bronze visible than you'll see at any Olympics. Bronze marked with the names of the donors, and the persons memorialized by the gift. It's not unusual to see such things - and there is nothing at all wrong with such acknowledgments. But that has not be our custom.

Some years ago the leadership at Grace made the decision not to acknowledge gifts of gold and silver with a permanent marker of bronze. We had healthy conversations about the ban on bronze. During the period leading up to the building of our sanctuary, there was a point of view that said we needed pews, and choir chairs, and candlesticks and candelabra and communion ware - and people might be more willing to underwrite the cost if there were to be a permanent and public acknowledgment, that is, a bronze marker. The answer we came up with was this: the people of this congregation have a tradition of generosity and there is no need to encourage their giving with a carrot at the end of the stick ... nor a bronze marker. People around here tend to support causes bigger than themselves, to the Glory of God, no strings attached. No markers attached.

But let's get down to brass tacks of a new bronze plaque and my mixed emotions. It almost seems we are saying Ethel's gift is more important than your gift or my gift. Ethel did not make this new church building possible. She did make it easier - she did not make it possible. There are countless people among us who give of themselves and of their own financial resources to put a roof over our altar, a shelter to keep the rain out of our font. If we acknowledged every gift with a plaque we could have built the whole facility with bronze ... so generous has been your giving over the years. Let me close out this particular personal pastoral struggle by letting you all know how grateful I am for the ongoing support this church gets from family and friends ... and how happy I am that there has been not even a hint of, "How come Ethel gets a plaque?"

Jesus is in Jerusalem, at the Temple, in the narthex, or entrance way. He was people watching. Gifts to the Temple treasury were given in the narthex and people were walking to the offering tables and giving their bills and their coins. A poor widow, and there was no such thing as a rich widow in Palestine, a poor widow approaches the offering plate and gave her two coins, her one cent worth. All she had. And Jesus takes notice. He doesn't praise her. She felt the need to respond to a cause bigger than herself. He doesn't praise her, he merely acknowledges her. No bronze plaques - merely the red-letter words of Jesus: "Truly I tell you, this poor widow has put in more than all those who are contributing to the treasury. For all of them have contributed out of their abundance; but she out of her poverty has put in everything she had, all she had to live on." Jesus does not dismiss the gifts of the rich. He simply points out that the major characters are the minor givers, while the minor character - the poor widow - turns out to be the major donor of them all. In a few days Jesus would be crucified ... his blood would flow, his heart would stop: all he had to live on. There was a cause greater than himself ... the cause of saving the world.

This familiar story of the widow dropping her last coins in the offering plate is more a story of faith than finances. Sure, her last two coins; but she knows she'll manage. She trusts her God to see her through - perhaps through the generosity of her neighbors. Her coins were tiny, but her faith and confidence were mighty. Did the temple need her money? No, of course not. But ... she needed to give. She was hardwired for generosity. Giving gave dignity to her life. It gave meaning to her impoverished existence. If you were to say to her, "Ma'am, your last two coins. You just gave away your last two coins." She would probably shrug her shoulders as she walked into the Temple to thank God for her abundance. She had nothing ... but she was rich in relationship to her Maker. There are ways other than the Fortune 500 to measure true wealth.

As is the rhythm of our congregation life together, we approach our annual campaign to secure pledges for the work of the church for the coming year. This is a low key campaign, and the Stewardship Committee and the Congregation Council are not at all concerned about that fact. They know, and experience has proved, you and I are hardwired for generosity. When it comes to sharing financial resources for the work of the church - we're all veterans!