Trusting God

Image Conscious People Cleansed By Christ

11.7.21 [Mark 12:38-44] River of Life (24th Sunday after Pentecost)

What does a man pray for just before the biggest tennis match of his life? Quick feet? A smooth backhand? Mental fortitude? Victory?

All of those sound likely. But just before the 1990 French Open final, Andre Agassi prayed. But not for any of those things. “‘During the warming-up training before play I prayed. Not for victory, but that my hairpiece would not fall off.”

That day, Agassi’s prayers were answered. He lost the match, but he didn’t lose his toupee. Those who remember Andre Agassi in the early days of his career, remember his vicious topspin, his larger than life personality, and his lion’s mane of a mullet. Andre Agassi had a carefully crafted image. Everyone else on tour was straight-laced. Agassi was punk-rock. They were boring. Agassi was exciting. They were sticks-in-the-mud. He was a rebel.

Andre Agassi was such a well-known rebel that Canon, the camera company, made him the face of their new SLR camera called the Rebel. The commercials were classic late 80’s cheesy. In one moment, Agassi is wearing a white suit; the next, he’s shirtless. Sprinkle in a few tennis like scenes, then he cruises by in a Jeep, running his fingers through his long hair. The commercial ends with a catch-phrase that hounded Agassi. Standing there in that white suit, he lowers his Ray-Bans a little, and says: Image is everything.

Agassi didn’t write this tagline, but he lived it. It’s why right before the French Open he prayed that he wouldn’t lose his hairpiece. Because to him, every time he found clumps of hair on his pillow and clogging up his drain, he said he felt like he was losing his identity. Because, for a long time, Image was everything.

The importance of image is not an issue that only Andre Agassi struggled with, of course. Cameras are everywhere and so many of us are so very concerned with how they capture us. Six years ago, The Atlantic reported that every two minutes humans take more photos than ever existed in total 150 years ago.

It’s probably easy to blame the technology. Cameras are faster, cheaper, and easier to use now than ever. But they didn’t invent and improve themselves. Cameras are everywhere because people want them everywhere. And part of the reason we are so camera-crazy is because we, as a society, are so image conscious.

That isn’t new. In our Gospel reading today, Jesus speaks about the image consciousness of his day and age. The Pharisees didn’t have a favorite Instagram filter, but they had a favorite seat. Andre Agassi wore a wig so that people would be impressed by his image and think of him as a rebel. The teachers of the law wore small leather boxes on their foreheads so that people would be impressed and think of them as more righteous than the rest. To the teachers of the law and the Pharisees, image was everything.

This is why they dressed up in (Mk. 12:38) flowing robes with (Mt. 23:5) tassels, too. (Mk. 12:39) They sat up front in the synagogue, so that people would see them and they would have an opportunity to speak their piece. When people held banquets, they delighted to sit in (Mk. 12:39) the places of honor. They loved to be (Mk. 12:38) greeted with great respect in the marketplaces and (Mt. 23:7) to be called Rabbi. Even their prayers are (Mk. 12:40) for a show.

This is the key truth that Jesus is driving at. It is not that he is rebuking their fashion or where they found a seat or how they interacted with people at the marketplace. It is why they behaved the way they did. (Mt. 23:5) Everything they do is done for people to see. This was the root of their image problem. Image was defined by what others saw and thought about them.

We have a similar image problem. Really, we have two image problems. One is a carbon copy of what Jesus addresses here. For most of us, our image consists of what other people see and then think about us. Sometimes, it’s an obvious thing. We put a lot of time and effort into how we present our physical image. We exercise because we want our figure to reflect that. We don’t wear long flowing robes or small leather boxes on our foreheads, but we carefully curate what clothes we wear because of how it reflects our image. We know how to hide our flaws and highlight the features we’re most proud of. When we get our picture taken, we fixate on how we look far more than anyone else who will see it. Why? Because at best we are far more image conscious than we want to admit. At times, we even obsess over our image.

But it’s not just a physical thing. It can be a vocational thing, a relational thing, even an intellectual thing. 40, 50 years ago when a person told you what they did for a living, they gave you one word. Maybe two. And you knew right away what they did. Now people give you full run-on sentences for a job title and it feels like it would be easier to solve a Rubik’s cube than it would be to figure out what they actually do. Why? Because we are so very image conscious, we are busy trying to impress people. And we don’t just want to be known for an impressive title. We want to be known as good at our job, whatever that job is. So we work hard, sometimes too hard, to be seen as good at our job. Perhaps, we are more willing to make moral compromises or bend the truth at work, because we want to be a team-player, we want to be liked. Respected.

Our image consciousness is why we are more likely to do the right thing when we think people are watching, but are less likely to do so when we think no one will notice or care. Like the teachers of the law that Jesus rebukes, (Mt. 23:5) so much of what so many of us do is done for people to see.

That’s the first—and probably most prevalent image problem we have. The second is similar, but would deny being anything like it. That’s what makes it perhaps even more sinister. There are some of us who pride ourselves in being rebels or renegade spirits like Andre Agassi. I don’t mean you’re wearing a wig here. And if you are, that’s fine. It will be our little secret.

But some of us love the idea of telling everyone else that we don’t care what anyone else thinks about us. Let’s say, for the sake of argument that was true—and not some projection. Is that really any better? If you are living for your own approval, you will will fall into selfishness. Again and again. Because that’s how you’re geared. If you are living for your own approval, you will struggle to be patient, kind, compassionate. If you are living for your own approval, you will avoid bearing the burdens of others—as God calls you to do. Living for your own approval is not the solution. If you are living life for the approval of one sinner, or ten, or a hundred, or even thousands of sinners, the difference is moot in the eyes of God. People who live for the approval of others—even themselves—will be punished severely.

That’s why Jesus says plainly (Mk. 12:38) Watch out for the teachers of the law. Jesus saw the harm they were doing to their own souls and the hardship they were inflicting on the most vulnerable among them. Jesus recognized that when sinners live for the approval of other people, they inevitably treat the less powerful as mere commodities. When you’re on the hunt for power, authority, respect, and wealth—a poor widow is just another person to devour to feed your appetite for more.

Then Jesus sits down and watches the crowds in and around the Temple. Every good Jewish man was required to pay the Temple tax of a half-shekel. Anything above and beyond that was free will.

(Mk. 12:41) Many rich people threw in large amounts. Then a poor widow, someone exempt from the Temple tax and someone that the people of Israel were called by God to support, (Mk. 12:41) puts in two very small copper coins, worth only a few cents. Jesus does not say that what the rich people did was wrong in any way. He doesn’t castigate them publicly for only doing so to be known as generous people. In fact, he doesn’t talk to them at all.

Rather he uses them as an illustration to his own disciples. Why? His disciples, like most people, were impressed by most of the wealthy, powerful, and respected people of their day. When Jesus sent that rich young ruler away with the assignment to (Mk. 10:21) sell all your worldly goods, give it to the poor, and then come follow me, the disciples were confused. If this wealthy person can’t inherit the kingdom of God, (Mk. 10:26) Who then can be saved? they murmured.

Now Jesus lays before them a positive example. Look at this widow. Her only wealth—if you can call it that—were these two small copper coins. She is poor in this world. But she is rich in faith. (Mk. 12:44) She, out of her poverty, put in everything she had to live on—and that is more meaningful to the Lord than what all the others have done. She looked at her life and did not see what she lacked—a husband, family to support her, the benevolence of her people—but she treasured what she had—a God who continued to love and take care of her.

That gesture was moving to Jesus because that was what moved him to come here. Not to the Temple, but here to earth. The Son of God came to give everything he had so that we might be rewarded most generously. The Apostle Paul put it beautifully. (2 Cor. 8:9) You know the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, that though he was rich, yet for your sake he became poor, so that you through his poverty might become rich. Jesus became poor for you by setting aside his divinity and humbling himself.

When we think of riches, we tend to think of financial matters. But Jesus as true God was rich in power, in respect, and in wisdom. Yet he came into this world as a helpless babe. He walked the face of the earth he made as an unremarkable resident of Nazareth for most of his life. He applied himself to studying the Word of God, even though he produced it.

Finally, he took on our sin-debt. He was treated as a poor, miserable, destitute sinner in our place. He was publicly disgraced so that he could atone for all our guilt and the iniquities we try to hide. He suffered hell for our shameful ways. He died for us. And then he rose again and shared the spoils of his righteousness with us. He gifts us the forgiveness of sins, salvation, and eternal life.

Why did God do all this? Grace. Moved solely by his grace God promised to redeem his people. God gave that promise to the people he made in his image, Adam and Eve, from the moment they first tried to dress themselves up to look better than they were. This poor widow clung to that promise. She relied on the God of all grace and power and wisdom and mercy to provide all that she needed for body and soul—not just for the next day, but for eternity.

So she did what she could and God in the flesh praised that. Just as he does for you. This poor widow did not give her last two copper coins because she was trying to impress anyone. She acted because she trusted. Image wasn’t everything; God was everything she needed. She produced fruit in keeping with her faith. And so do you. God does not command that any of you empty out your bank accounts into the church coffers. But here the Son of God highlights the high-view that God himself has on deeds of faith that fly under our radar. Don’t ever think what is done in faith, doesn’t matter. Don’t ever think your contribution is too small to be of any significance. Don’t ever convince yourself the Lord and his Church don’t need you. Without faith it is impossible to please God. With faith, with that simple trust that God has gifted you everything in his Son, even the smallest of gestures, even the most meager of gifts in the eyes of this world are precious in his sight. Amen.