Nov 11, 2024 - God Sustains the Generous Widows

[with appreciation to Peter Kreeft's Food for the Soul and Bishop Barron's Sunday Sermon] Good morning, brothers and sisters.

Our readings today align along a remarkable theme: faithful widows who give generously to God, who sustains them.

The Responsorial Psalm says

“The Lord gives food to the hungry… The fatherless and the widow he sustains.”

The orphan and the widow were two of the most vulnerable members of ancient society. This was a time before orphanages, shelters, food stamps, and welfare programs. If the man of the family died, the widow was often in dire straits: basically, she often became a beggar overnight.

Widows were completely dependent on the generosity of others to survive.

This is why Jesus in the Gospel speaks so harshly about the scribes who [quote] “devour the houses of widows” – I imagine that perhaps one of these scribes was a landlord who evicted a widow who could not pay her rent.

Jesus points his fellow Jews to core of the Old Law. The Old Testament repeatedly commands that Jews should sustain widows and orphans. For example, Deuteronomy 14 specifically states that Jews should tithe their harvest proceeds for widows, orphans, foreigners, and the Levite priests.

So the widow was dependent on God, and the generosity of His people.  This is the context for our magnificent first reading, from the First Book of Kings.

The prophet Elijah comes to a poor widow in Zarephath, who with her son is on the verge of starvation.  Elijah comes to her, asks first for a cup of water, and then for a small bread cake. The widow replies: “[I have] only a handful of flour in my jar and a little oil in my jug…. I was just getting a couple of sticks to bake some bread, and then we were going to die.” But Elijah promises her that, if she gives away this little that she has, that God will reward and sustain her.  She trusts him, and lo, a miracle occurs and [quote] the “jar of flour did not go empty, nor the jug of oil run dry…”

The story continues beyond what we heard today. Immediately after this episode, the woman’s son becomes sick and dies – literally, he “stopped breathing”. The widow bemoans that he died because of her sins, her guilt, and she pleas for Elijah to help.  Elijah stretches over the dead boy 3 times and prays that the “life breath” would return to the child, and it does – the boy comes back to life.

It is a rich story, and the early Church Fathers found powerful symbolism here.

They saw Elijah as a prefigurement of Christ, the widow as the Church, and her son as the new Gentile Christians.

The first thing Elijah asks for is water – which echoes baptism, the first Sacrament.  Later, Elijah stretches over the dead child three times - St Augustine compares this act to Baptism: in which the deacon or priest pours water three times and says: I baptize you in the Name of the Father – 1 – and of the Son – 2 – and of the Holy Spirit – 3.  It is through Baptism that we who were dead, who were breathless, receive new life, new breath through the Holy Spirit. Indeed, the Latin word ‘Spiritus’ can also mean breath.  St. Augustine also points to the odd detail of the widow collecting just ‘two sticks’.  Why not 3 or 4? Because with 2 sticks you can make a cross – and it was through the cross that Jesus saved us, and that he miraculously transformed the simple gift of wheat flour into the Bread of Life that allows us to live forever.  Turning to the oil in the jar: it could prefigure the oil used in Baptism and Confirmation.  Finally, we recall that it was through the woman’s confession of her own guilt that Elijah resuscitated her son – her confession could prefigure the Sacrament of Confession with the priest.

Thus, we have in this story, written over 500 years before the time of Christ, a beautiful icon of how Christ saves us through his Sacraments and the cross.  Through humble materials (like water, bread, and oil), Christ -- through a priestly mediator – offers us the saving Sacraments of Baptism, Confirmation, Reconciliation, and the Eucharist. They sustain us even amidst spiritual drought.

So don’t let anyone tell you that the Bible, including the Old Testament, is outdated or small-minded – it is rich in layers of meaning. We’ve just discussed an allegorical or Christological interpretation, but I’d like to turn now to the moral interpretation: reading this story, how might we live our life differently?

The story of the widow of Zeraphath, and the story of the widow with the two coins in the Gospel, are stories of trust. Both widows are at the end of their respective ropes – one is on the verge of starvation, and the other has only two small coins left to her name.  But both women give generously – they hold nothing back when God asks.

Are we ready to offer everything to God in trust? Brothers and sisters, I’ll be the first to admit that this is really really hard. The world teaches us to cling, to save up for ourselves, to trust in ourselves.

But the saints teach us the opposite: the more that we give of ourselves, the more that we receive.

I recall the prayer of St Francis of Assisi: “Lord make me an instrument of your peace… [it concludes:] for it is in giving that we receive… it is in dying that we are born to eternal life.”  If St Francis had remained a rich party-boy all his life, he would have been forgotten in history. But it was in giving everything to God that he found joy, that he found himself.

St John Paul II called this “The Law of the Gift”: only by giving ourselves can we truly find ourselves. John Paul II himself lost so much: relatively early in life, he lost his mother, then his brother, then his father. He was targeted first by Nazis and then by Soviets. He was nearly assassinated. But he did not become bitter; instead, he trusted that God had a plan in all of these crosses.

St Mother Teresa of Calcutta is another prime example. She prayed constantly that she would never refuse anything that Jesus asked, and indeed for decades she suffered severe spiritual darkness. One of her refrains was that we should “Take whatever God gives and give whatever He takes with a big smile.” If God gives us loss and suffering; we receive this with gratitude. If he takes our health or even our love ones from us: we give these up freely.

This is so, so hard. How can we possibly “Take whatever God gives and give whatever He takes with a big smile”?

I’d like to give three practical suggestions.

First, even though it’s an awkward topic, the readings today compel me to mention money, and the parish’s Grand Annual Appeal. Nobody likes asking for money, but an active parish needs funding to run its programs and keep the heat on.  I’d encourage everyone to prayerfully consider the Gospel today, and whether we’re more like the rich men tossing in our surplus, or the widow putting in her 2 coins. In fact, this Gospel might be a particular call for parishioners who feel they have very little to give – perhaps some of our young people or students.  I’ll admit that when I was in medical school and residency, I only gave to the basket on the rare occasion that I had cash in my wallet. Looking back, I wish I had just set up a recurring $10 weekly donation. I’m embarrassed to say that I spent way more on ‘going out’ and social events than I did on the Church or charities. So think about it.

Ok, whew, I’m done with the awkward part, and I can move on.

The second practical suggestion costs no money, but does cost about 20 seconds every morning. I’d encourage everyone to pray a Morning Offering every morning, if you’re not doing so already.  Growing up, my mother prayed this prayer with us every morning on the drive to school. It’s a great prayer – you can even buy mugs with the prayer printed on it – so you can read it as you drink your morning coffee. It’s a great stocking stuffer.

The prayer goes like this:

O Jesus, through the Immaculate Heart of Mary,

I offer you my prayers, works, joys, and sufferings of this day

for all the intentions of your Sacred Heart

in union with the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass throughout the world,

for the salvation of souls, the reparation of sins, the reunion of all Christians,

and in particular for the intentions of the Holy Father this month.

Amen.

Such a beautiful prayer. Consider printing it off and putting it on your bathroom mirror or fridge to remind you to pray it every morning. Or you could set a smartphone alert that pings you daily. In behavioral psychology, these are called ‘nudges’, and such nudges can be very helpful in the spiritual life. 

Yes, it’s very hard to “take whatever God gives and give whatever he takes with a smile”… it takes grace… and we do well to pray for this grace every morning, to “offer up our prayers, works, joys, and sufferings” of that day.

We offer them ‘in union with the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass throughout the world”.

Indeed, this is my third suggestion: that we should explicitly unite our sacrifices, our gifts to the greatest gift of all: Jesus in the Eucharist. Here on this altar, the priest acting in persona Christi will re-present for us the Paschal Sacrifice, when Christ offered his body and blood for us. Jesus gave to the last drop: he felt complete spiritual abandonment on the cross saying: “My God, my God, why have you abandoned me?” But he forgave his enemies. After he died, he was pierced with a lance, and blood and water flowed out: He gave to the last drop.

And we can add our own meager drops to his perfect sacrifice.  It is a highpoint in Catholic theology that we can participate in Christ’s redemptive action. As St Paul says, “I rejoice in my sufferings, for in my flesh I am filling up what is lacking in the suffering of Christ.” Saints up and down the ages have taught us: If we offer up our suffering, this can help to save souls. Mother Teresa had a small army of ‘sick and suffering co-workers’ … people who were too sick or disabled to help with physical service– but they offered up their sufferings prayerfully for others. This is the action of the saint: to give to the last drop.

Maybe we are feeling completely drained: physically, psychologically, or spiritually. We feel we have nothing left to give. We’re like the widow starving to death. Well, we can offer even our emptiness, like the few drops of water that will soon be mixed with the wine … which together are transformed into the one Perfect Sacrifice.  Jesus can take our measly handful of flour and transform it into the Bread of Angels. 

I know it’s easy to get distracted in Mass – especially if you’re taking care of little ones – but I’d encourage everyone to do their best during the Consecration today –to offer yourself, whatever it is you can give – in that most sacred moment when the priest elevates the Host and the Chalice.

‘Do this in memory of me’

And I pray silently: ‘Jesus, I offer up my sufferings and frustrations to you. And I offer this Mass for my spouse or my sick friend or my sibling who has left the Church.’ 

We cannot imagine the weight of a Mass, offered for others.  Offering a Mass for someone is one of the best gifts we as Catholics can give – especially when we try during Mass to participate actively, to enter  into the Sacrifice of Christ.

Every Sunday you come to Mass, you can offer that Mass for someone you know. And of course I encourage everyone to try to come more often, during the work or school week.

Let us pray to be like the widows in readings, to give generously: whether our finances, or making a daily Morning Offering Prayer, or uniting our sufferings to Christ on the altar.

We know that our offerings are never made in vain. God sustains the widow, and he will more than sustain us if we give ourselves to Him. Let us be like drops in his Chalice, poured out for the world.

Amen.