32nd Sunday 2024
I Kings 17:10-16; Hebrews 9:24-28; Mark 12:38-44
What do the two widows of today’s First Reading and Gospel have in common? Extreme generosity, certainly: the one shares the last of her food with Elijah, a complete stranger, while the other dedicates the last of her money to God. Is there anything else involved? Faith, I would say. Essentially, both of them are entrusting their very survival to God, since they have no natural resources remaining.
It is possible, I suppose, to suggest that both are acting in desperation or resignation; to assume that they are both at their wits’ end and are being reckless. I am not convinced by that argument: isn’t it natural to cling onto our resources until the bitter end, rather than share them with a foreigner or effectively throw them away?
There was a similar episode in the life of St. Francis of Assisi. On a visit to Rome, he was apparently shocked at what he saw as the meanness of pilgrims in St. Peter’s Basilica, who were donating very little, and so he emptied his own purse into the collection, and went away impoverished but happy.
This gesture was indicative of St. Francis’ whole attitude. He neither kept, nor allowed his followers to keep, anything by way of savings, but relied entirely on the providence of God and the generosity of wealthier people.
Perhaps earlier than usual, I am going to pose the weekly question: what about us? I don’t think that we are required to give away everything: to rely entirely on the goodness of God and the open-handedness of others. We have responsibilities which we must fulfil. We have an obligation to provide for our own welfare and that of our families. There are demands which society rightly makes of us to contribute to the common good by way of taxation. Like everyone else, I shudder when the envelope arrives marked HMRC, to inform me how much the taxman intends to liberate from my clutches, but I know that taxes are a necessary evil: that without them, society would be unable to function. There is some truth in Benjamin Franklin’s comment that the two certainties in life are death and taxes.
Once these obligations are met, what else is required of us? Is it for us, as for the two widows, a matter of generosity and faith? How much do you and I possess of those two qualities?
Both are demanded of every Christian—can we say “of every human being”? Bear in mind that the widow who looks after Elijah is not a Jew, not a member of God’s chosen people. Indeed, Our Lord Himself, preaching in the synagogue, singles her out as an example of how God’s choice may fall on anyone. “There were any widows in Israel,”, He points out, “but Elijah was not sent to any one of these”.
This remark, illustrating the breadth of God’s mercy, aroused the wrath of the congregation, who preferred to see themselves as especially close to God. How generous were they, in reality? How much faith did they place in God? Generosity to outsiders is still resented today. You can find on Facebook, people complaining bitterly about money being spent, whether by a Conservative or a Labour government, on overseas aid.
Such people will shout loudly “We should look after our own!” I suspect that they themselves do nothing to “look after our own”: they are simply demonstrating their own meanness of spirit.
Do you or I possess a mean spirit, or do we have the generosity to which Christ calls us? Faith definitely should come into it. Explicitly or implicitly, the two widows relied on God to respond with His boundless generosity to that generosity which they themselves displayed.
This isn’t simply a matter of being generous with material things. The real question for us is “To what extent do I entrust myself, my life, my whole being to God?” Do I seek to conform my whole life to His call, His Commandments—expounded in last Sunday’s readings—to love Him with all my heart, soul, mind, and strength, and to love my neighbour as myself? If I am genuinely seeking to fulfil those two Commandments daily, then generosity and faith will arise in me as a natural consequence.
