November 10, 2024. Texts: 1 Kings 17:8-16; Hebrews 5:24-28; Mark 12:38-44.
There was a knock at the door and the young woman opened it to find several men standing there. She did not invite them in, for that would have been unseemly. But they only came to bring word to her that her husband had been killed that morning.
There was an accident, they explained. The town’s smelters burned hot to render metals from stone and earth. It was like alchemy to make bronze. The woman’s husband had been pleased to work there, though it was dangerous work. And on this day the unimaginable had happened.
The men shifted uncomfortably. There was more. The foreman was unwilling to give even a half day’s wage for the dead man’s labor that morning. They held out a few small coins – all that the man’s co-workers could provide from their own pockets. They were sorry, they said. So sorry for what happened.
The woman took the coins silently. She could not form any word of thanks. An unwanted word was drumming in her head: widow. Only her eyes, brimming with tears, expressed her gratitude.
Everything changed that day. They had never been a family of means. Nor was there any help from friends or family. Accident. Unlucky. Widow. Those were the words the young woman heard as she passed by. As if by association with her, things might go badly for them also.
It took almost no time for the woman to use up the small store of food she had. There was no milk for her son, only water to drink. They both grew thin and pale.
The day came when the young woman knew it was over for them. All she had left was her dignity. She set out her measure of coarse grain, her last spoonful of olive oil. She went to the city gate where carts entered the town.
The road was deeply rutted. It rocked the carts and things fell off the high loads. Stones for the smelters, clumps of wool for the spinners and weavers. And sticks from the wood merchants that the woman could not afford to buy for her cooking fire.
This is where the foreigner, the man of God called Elijah found the widow. Bent over in the service of picking up small sticks. He asked her for water. A common request from travelers.
Then he asked her for bread. She could see he was hungry. Also that he was a holy man. But she had nothing to share and she said so. Let his God feed him!
I’ve only got enough to feed myself and my child. Then we’ll go into the desert and let the hot sun and bitter cold nights do their work. We will have a peaceful end. It is all I have left to give my son.
Elijah looked at the woman steadily. Don’t be afraid. It will be all right. And it was.
Just how did Jesus know that the woman at the Temple treasury was a poor widow? Perhaps her clothing signaled her marital status. And the two small copper coins betrayed her precarious economic position.
A tithe was the customary offering. Ten percent of what you had. In Jerusalem it was considered a matter of social responsibility and piety to give your tithe faithfully. Many that day did their duty, as Jesus observed. And when your bottom line is way above the high tide mark, you can give a lot and not feel the pinch at all.
Jesus knew the widow had been far more generous than that. Jesus told his followers that day that the poor widow had contributed her whole living. He seems to have meant not only her money, but also her time and her energy. For this woman, the Temple was not a building, it was the place of God’s holy Presence. How could she come so close to God and give anything less than all she had?
Jesus had said, beware of the Scribes who like fine clothing, favors in the marketplace, premium seats in worship, and seats of honor at meals in high society. Jesus did not categorically denounce Scribes. In fact, he’d just commended one as wise and thoughtful.
Scribes were not Temple authorities. Although, they were observant Jews. They served a public role in society in such matters as letter and document writing for the illiterate poor and those too wealthy to need literacy.
Jesus warned his followers that not all Scribes were there for the sake of public service. Something like the counsel of Psalm 146:3 – “Put not your trust in rulers, in mortals in whom there is no help.” Not all scribes were worthy of the people’s trust. Especially from the most vulnerable people – the widows. They were caught in a tragic system that dehumanized and oppressed them. And yet they still chose to contribute to the common good.
The larger sense of the lessons from Elijah and Jesus today is a teaching about humility. The widows are given a status they did not choose. Neither as ordinary women, or as widows. Yet they have been faithful in a very particular sense. It is in the humble giving of all their living for God’s purposes.
The lessons also suggest that humble living prepares us for God’s purposes. That somehow unchecked pride and invulnerability cause barriers and inhospitality to the Holy Spirit. And that being open to God means regularly and faithfully examining our own lives for signs of these things.
So. In Mark’s gospel, Jesus is in the last week of his life. Like the widows of Zarephath and Jerusalem, he will give all his living for God’s purposes. And he always did say, follow me.