“Jesus sat down opposite the treasury and observed how the crowd put money into the treasury.” What a wonderful little detail, a small moment. This small aspect of our Gospel story is such a favorite of mine, because it shows Jesus thinking. I imagine him sitting in the temple, back against the wall, people-watching, as if He were sitting in Penn Station. He smiles to Himself after witnessing the small act of humility and trust. “Calling His disciples to himself,” another small moment where I imagine all of them low, huddling around Him trying to hear, Jesus uses the widow as an example of holiness. He does not make an example of her. He compassionately doesn’t embarrass her.
He witnesses her giving “her entire livelihood.” This is a phrase I think is important, but we must be cautious in our interpretations. Predatory preachers might (and have) used this thought to suggest that we should give all our money. I don’t think Christ or His Church is asking us to give everything we own. I think Christ is asking us to give everything we are. The challenge to us of this nameless woman, centuries later, is that she gave everything of herself. She was authentic while the others boastful. Any gift — monetary, physical, timely — must be an example of our authentic faith.
David McCullough, in his now famous Wellesley High School commencement address, talks about this need for authenticity when serving. “We cheapen worthy endeavors,” he writes, “and building a Guatemalan medical clinic becomes more about the application to Bowdoin than the well-being of Guatemalans” (June 6, 2012). He couldn’t be more correct! In a generation that is thirsting for authenticity, (the “authentic farm to table cuisine,” the “authentic travel experience”) we must be reminded that true spiritual experience comes from within. Our Carmelite ancestors inform us that to understand our faith we must turn inward, toward that “little heaven of the soul” that Saint Teresa of Avila describes, or Saint John of the Cross when he shares with us that, “to understand our true selves is to know ourselves in the dark and quiet depths of our being.” I’m not suggesting that our public persona is fake — our co-workers and neighbors know us like our spouses or children do, albeit differently. The example of the woman in the treasury was that it was her private, deep knowing self that gave her simple coin, not a coin from a purse but “her entire livelihood,” her entire love. Let us have the courage to look deep inside ourselves and meet ourselves, again, for the first time.
I’ll be seeing you,
Elliot