Amen, I say to you, this poor widow put in more
than all the other contributors to the treasury.
For they have all contributed from their surplus wealth, but she, from her poverty, has contributed all she had, her whole livelihood."
As Saint Mark tells the story, everyone watched the donations of the wealthy as they contributed to the temple. It seems to be some kind of public event, like a Mardi Gras parade or homecoming football game. In this case it's an ostentatious display of generosity as individuals step up to do good for the temple and do well by their reputations. Crowds of people watch the proceedings. They're always fascinated by the lifestyles of the rich and famous, and they expect to see flashes of gold and glints of silver in the hands of wealthy benefactors. If there is any suspense to this oft-rehearsed routine, it's which fat cat might give more than the other; and who might give the largest amount. Will Daddy Warbucks outdo his last year's donation? Will Scrooge McDuck disappoint again?
People can often be very generous. A pastor told me many years ago, "If you explain what the church needs clearly and honestly, they'll support you." They can even make deep sacrifices, especially during hard times like war, famine or natural disasters. Neighbors, friends, family and strangers pull together and cheerfully support one another. The news media love these stories, search for them and celebrate them every time a hurricane hits a coastal city or fire devastates a rural home.
During this fundraiser, Saint Mark tells us, an old woman joined the procession and contributed all she had. Odds are, Jesus was the only one who noticed.
And your Father, who sees in secret, will repay you.
Like the prophetess in the same Gospel who anointed Jesus head with costly, genuine spikenard, signifying the approach of death, this old, impoverished benefactor is unnamed but immortalized. Both women challenge every generation of Christians, especially those who are smugly confident they have sacrificed enough. "Have you now?" they ask.
The crowd Jesus watched that day were, except for the old woman, willing to give generously so long as everyone also gave generously. They would go so far as to feel the pinch of sacrifice when everyone sacrificed together. But when the rumor goes round that certain others, especially those with deep pockets, have quietly withdrawn from the contest, the public spirit withers.
These women act not with the public spirit of ceremonial self-congratulation but with the Spirit of one who gives more than he can give.
Who did not deem equality with God something to be grasped,
but emptied taking the form of a man,
being found in human estate,
accepted even death, death on a cross.
Someone will say, "Yes, but he was Jesus. He could do that!"
These silent women speak clearly and for all time, "So do we."
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I love to write. This blog helps me to meditate on the Word of God, and I hope to make some contribution to our contemplations of God's Mighty Works.
Ordinarily, I write these reflections two or three weeks in advance of their publication. I do not intend to comment on current events.
I understand many people prefer gender-neutral references to "God." I don't disagree with them but find that language impersonal, unappealing and tasteless. When I refer to "God" I think of the One whom Jesus called "Abba" and "Father", and I would not attempt to improve on Jesus' language.
You're welcome to add a thought or raise a question.