The holy gospel according to Mark, the 12th chapter:    “As Jesus taught, He said “Beware of the scribes who like to walk around in long robes and be greeted with respect in the marketplace and to have the best seats in the synagogues and places of honor at banquets.  They devour widows’ houses and for the sake of appearance say long prayers.  They will receive the greater condemnation.  He sat down opposite the treasury, and watched the crowd putting money into the treasury.  Many rich people put in large sums.  A poor widow came and put in two small copper coins, which are worth a penny.  Then he called his disciples and said to them, ‘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 contribute out of their abundance, but she out of her poverty has put in everything she had,  all she had to live on.”

Today’s Gospel is a lesson about money – and about arrogance and humility – and about Us and Them.  And in a rather remarkable coincidence,  I experienced something in my own life within the last week that touched on all three of these themes and more.

It began with a strange email I received on the morning of November 5th from someone at Carthage- and all it said was “Hello.  Are you available?”   It seemed a little weird and very much out of character for this person,  so I actually sent them a text asking if they had just sent me an email.  They answered right away to say that they had not- which seemed to indicate that their email account had been hacked.   But in fact, it was a matter of being hacked.  Somebody had taken the trouble to create a gmail email address that incorporated my colleague’ name into the name of the address – and then he sent out this cryptic email message to a number of people at Carthage.   It was someone masquerading as him in a really sneaky way.  And as soon as my colleague was able to determine the nature of the deception, he sent an email to a number of people – including all of us in the music faculty – warning us that this spurious email was circulating and should be ignored.

Unfortunately, one of my colleagues in the music department did not see the warning until after they had responded to this email and gotten caught up in an exchange – and ultimately, the person behind this unauthorized email address persuaded my colleague to purchase $300 in gift cards – gift cards that proved to be worthless.   It was a horrifying embarrassment for my colleague – and also a serious hit for them, financially.  It was the sad case of someone trying to do a kind thing for someone else and having it blow up in their face … and with no clear path to recompense.

As soon as what happened became known,  another colleague of mine from the music department sprang into action – emailing all of us with the suggestion that perhaps each of us could contribute some money to a small fund that could be collected and presented to our colleague to mostly or perhaps even completely cover the loss incurred.   The response was immediate and enthusiastic – and all of the full time music faculty ultimately contributed to this gift, which was presented to them with our best wishes-  a gift that left this colleague humbled and grateful and relieved.

Believe it or not, there was actually one member of the music faculty who was a rather grudging participant in the gift – willing to contribute but not completely happy about it …. feeling like this was a way of allowing someone to escape the consequences of a needless and even foolish mistake.  This was NOT like collecting a gift for someone whose house just burned down through no fault of their own – this felt completely different from that, and this member of the music faculty was troubled about the whole thing.

That member of the music faculty I’m talking about …… was me.

<sounds of laughter in the congregation>

I hope that laughter is because your’e shocked to hear this.  I really hope your first reaction to having that was something along the lines of  “wow!  I thought Greg Berg was a much nicer guy than that!”   I hope your initial reaction wasn’t “Yup!  Sounds like something Greg Berg would say.”

Well let me tell you,  my wife Kathy was shocked ….thunderstruck …. maybe even downright horrified when I shared these feelings with her.  (Thank goodness I did so in the privacy of our kitchen.)  She could not believe what she was hearing – that I could harbor such misgivings about helping out a colleague and a friend.

And I must admit that it was only when I heard myself say these words out loud and saw her horrified bewilderment that I began to understand just how un-Christian my response had been to all this …. and I am still grappling to understand where these feelings came from.   But in a strange way I am grateful to have been given such a potent lesson in humility – a potent realization that I have issues with arrogance that are very much worth examining.  I realized that I have a long way yet to go in becoming the true follower of Christ – something that I thought I already was.

In a delicious if embarrassing bit of irony,  the very same day – November 6th- that my colleague received the gift from the department,  I posted something on my Facebook wall without giving any thought to its connection to all of this.   It was a quote from the Trappist monk Thomas Merton, a gifted writer who died in 1968, 50 years ago this year.  The quote is this:   ‘Our job is to love others without stopping to inquire whether or not they are worthy.’ Let me read that to you one more time:  ‘Our job is to love others without stopping to inquire whether or not they are worthy.”

Our gospel lesson today paints a most unappealing picture of kindness and generosity and piety when it is wrapped up in a cloak of self-righteousness and self-serving arrogance …. when the good deeds we do are not done for the sake of righting a wrong or addressing a hurt …  but for the sake of setting the giver apart as somehow better than the people around him.

It reminded me of a concept I was introduced to a few years ago when I interviewed a conservative commentator by the name of Andrew Sullivan.  Our topic happened to be gay marriage … (but don’t worry, I’m not talking about that today) …  and one of the things he talked about was the parallels between that struggle and the struggle for civil rights,  and how the last of the bigoted laws to fall were the laws that outlawed interracial marriage.  In exploring why that might have been the case,  Sullivan talked about how many people – in fact, most people – like to view themselves Contradistinctually.  How’s that for a juicy 7 syllable word?!   It means that we like to think of ourselves in terms of how we are different from someone else.   I’m male …. you’re female.   I’m white collar … you’re blue collar.   I’ve got a lot of money …. you don’t have so much.   I voted for this guy ….  You voted for that guy.  I’m from here … you’re from there.   I’m white …. you’re black.  I’m godly …. you’re worldly.

It’s as though it’s a means for us to know who we are … and maybe more importantly, a means for us to know where we fit in the world and to know what role we play in the world.

It’s a tricky thing- because it’s obviously important that each of us celebrate the unique, one-of-a-kind person that God created us to be.  We were never supposed to all look the same and talk the same and think the same or even believe the same.  What a bland, boring world this would be if we were all completely the same.    But when we take that concept of Contradistinctuality too far-  to create a sense of US and THEM – with US being superior over THEM – then we are treading on very dangerous ground indeed … and I think this is precisely what Jesus is indicting in today’s Gospel.

Yes, each of us is a unique person, created to be you and only you … and all of us woven together into the amazing design that is the Body of Christ …. but with no one part of the Body any greater than any other.

I always feel like that is demonstrated – lived out – SO beautifully when we come forward to share in Holy Communion.  When you come forward,  you do not have to pay a toll – or bring a receipt showing how much money you’ve given to the church.   You don’t have to pass a quiz – or flash an “I am Lutheran” card.   All Are Welcome,  as our opening hymn says so beautifully.  And no one is given a special place of honor – not the most generous giver, not the busiest volunteer,  not the wife of our senior pastor – and not even a retired bishop.  <looking at former bishop Jeff Barrow sitting in the front pew.>  All of us are equally broken, equally flawed-  yet equally forgiven,  equally cherished.

This past Sunday we celebrated All Saints Day – which is NOT a day to single out the greatest among us and to laud them for all that set them apart from the rest of us.  No, it’s actually a day to celebrate the amazingly complex and beautiful Body of Christ- and the many and varied saints who comprise it.

This most recent All Saints Sunday was especially meaningful for me because of several personal losses that I experienced this fall.   Within the space of a single week,  I was part of two funeral services for two women of God who, at least on the surface, could not have been more different from each other.   One of them was someone that none of you know. Her name was Amme Anderson, and she was the mother of my best friend, Marshall.  I don’t think I have ever known a kinder, gentler person in all my life.  I knew her for more than 50 years and in all that time, I never heard her utter an unkind word about anybody.  She was incredibly sweet and selfless and Christ-like.

Just a few days earlier was the funeral of our own Henrietta Welch – who was actually none of those things.  She was feisty and opinionated and frank and strong-willed …. and just as precious to me – and in her own way just as Christ-like.

In that very same week was also the funeral of Jack Potter- beloved father of our own Kate Barrow.  Jack was one of the most vibrant human beings I have ever known – a guy who was, in the best sense of the word, a simple man – a down-to-earth man –  and yet a man of tremendous intelligence and imagination – and an incredibly generous, joyous soul.

When I think of these three amazing human beings, all of whom I was so blest to know and love- it just underscores the spectacular splendor of what God has created in all of us as the Body of Christ ….  all of us flawed, all of us broken,  yet all of us beautiful and cherished.

If there are people among us who are especially saintly – and I would count the three people I just  named among them – what they shared in common is a complete disinterest in being called ‘saintly’ – as being set apart as exceptionally special … but who instead lived their lives with humility and grace.

1968 was not just the year that Thomas Merton died.  It was also a painful year in which Martin Luther King and Robert Kennedy were both assassinated and our country was rocked with all kinds of bitter discord.  It was a year where one wondered if our nation would survive intact.

1968 was also the year that a quiet, gentle children’s program debuted on PBS – a show hosted by somebody named Fred Rogers.  Think of all that was going on in our country.  What a time for us to be introduced to the sweet folk of Mr. Rogers’ Neighborhood.  There are all kinds of quotes from Fred Rogers that I could share with you this morning,  but this is the one that I think speaks most directly to us today:

I believe that appreciation is a holy thing- that when we look for what’s best in a person we happen to be with at the moment, we’re doing what God does all the time.   So in loving and appreciating our neighbor,  we’re participating in something sacred.

The words of Fred Rogers.

Amen.