Someone once said, “Widows are divided into two classes: the bereaved and the relieved.” Today’s Scriptures place a spotlight on two widows. In their time, they, along with orphans were the most vulnerable and least protected members of society because there was no social security structure in place.
These two widows teach us two simple but important lessons. They first teach us about trust in God. With no thought of tomorrow, they gave all they had to live on. From the purely human perspective, their actions seem foolish, a misguided piety or a neglect of their own needs. Elijah requests, even demands a cake even when the widow tells him that she has hit rock bottom and only death awaited her and her son. Jesus observes that the widow at the temple gave her whole livelihood. She could have given one coin and kept the other but she put in both coins. What these widows possessed was faith, that is to say, a lively trust that they were in God’s hands.
So often the Lord asks us to go the extra step, even when we feel we have given all we could and when it seems that circumstances are against us. Those are to the times the Lord calls us to trust him. Those are the times he “stretches” us and molds us. Fr. Henri Nouwen calls this “keeping it together:” “We can only survive our world when we trust that God knows us more intimately than we know ourselves. We can only keep it together when we believe that God holds us together. We can only win our lives when we remain faithful to the truth that every little part of us...every hair of our head is completely safe in the divine embrace of our Lord.”
The second lesson we receive from widows is how a gift is best offered to God. They gave from their want in contrast to the scribes and the wealthy who gave from their surplus. They offered the Lord what was extra, what they really didn’t need. Any gift to the Lord should always involve sacrifice.
As a youngster, walking to Mass every Sunday, I would pass a pastry shop. Outside its door was seated the mother of the shop’s owner in a black dresss and large apron. One Sunday, she called me over and gave me two dollars: “Here is a dollar for you and another for your sister. After dinner today, come back for a pastry.” At Mass I realized that I had forgotten my offering envelope. (There was the custom of providing church with a year’s supply of little offering envelopes—an attempt to train us to be good givers!) When the basket passed, I put in my sister’s dollar! I did not want to make a sacrifice! I had to take care of my own needs! After dinner, my mother asked, “What would you like for dessert? I informed her that I was going to the pastry shop! She replied, “Don’t forget to take your sister. I know that you received two dollars this morning! (Mothers communicate!) I had to go to my room to break into my bank!
The wealthy at the temple also made a great show of their gift. The Temple has 13 fluted containers for offerings and the donors were expected to loudly voice the amount they were giving—a task easy for the wealthy but a mortification for the widow. Consider the Lord’s words we hear every Ash Wednesday: “Take care not to perform righteous deeds in order that people may see them. When you give alms, do not blow a trumpet before you, as the hypocrites do...to win the praise of others. I say to you they have already received their reward. When you give alms, do not let your left hand know what your right is doing, so that your almsgiving may be secret and your Father who sees in secret will repay you.” St. Vincent DePaul understood this well when he advised: “A good work talked about is a good work spoiled.”
A disciple models himself/herself on Christ who came to serve and not to be served. The Lord’s servants do not need a trumpet fanfare to be pleasing in the Lord’s sight. Disciples do not take the highest place or the box seats. Let’s pray for this grace today—that we might understand that the most worthy and truest giving is not so much a matter of our wallet but of loving and trustful sacrifice. Let’s remember too that it lies not in the amount of worldly praise we receive but in what God’s sees.