One of the greatest honors of priesthood is being invited into peoples’ lives, often at the bookend moments which are either the happiest or saddest a human experiences. Every weekend, it’s really incredible to look out and know so many stories, represented in the faces seated in the pews. I smile inside when I catch a glimpse of the couple I married a few years ago who are still holding hands and crazy about each other. My heart is full when I see parents wrangling unruly toddlers who are trying to escape church because years earlier they asked me to pray for a healthy pregnancy. I also see people whom I visited in the hospital after a health scare, who received the anointing of the sick and now are back in action, full of new life and energy. And finally, I see many who have a lost a loved one and are walking through the various stages of grief. It’s hard for me to believe, but in my time at IW, I have celebrated more than 150 funerals and those stories always stick with me. Most of all, I am moved by the widows I have served as a priest. More often than not, there is a certain grace in their sorrow, an openness to God in their loss, and an honesty about the vulnerability and uncertainty which lies ahead. There has never been a good time to be a widow, but in the ancient world, it was pretty much the worst fate that could befall someone. It is only recently that social programs and safety nets were put in place for those who lost not only their beloved spouse but also their protector, provider, and advocate. For this reason, widows have a special place in God’s heart throughout the Scriptures. Over and over again, God sends prophets to call for their protection and condemns those who take advantage of their desperate situation. In Luke’s gospel, Jesus raises the son of a grieving widow and today he praises another for her generosity and trust. What might you and I learn from the example of the two widows presented in our readings?
What I first notice about both of them is that, despite their tremendous loss and hardship, they maintained a connection with God. So often, when things go wrong for us (sometime it only takes a trivial thing), we begin to doubt God’s love and goodness. Tragedy that is filtered through the lens of “why me” or “this is not fair” often moves us to pull away from God and even forsake him completely. For those who are able to hold on to faith, even in the worst moments of heartbreaking loss, there is the ability to walk with God, even in the darkness which gives no answers. The widow of Zarephath practices hospitality towards Elijah, even though she is down to her last bit of flour and oil, because her faith tells her that in welcoming the stranger, one might be ministering to God himself. The widow in the temple continues to give, even though she too is down to her final reserves, because somehow she still realizes and acknowledges all that God has done for her. Even in tragedy, even in hardship, even in poverty, these women live generously. When there is nothing left to give, they give a little more!
Faith simplified these women. Trust brought them to a place in their poverty that carved out a capacity for God and a generosity that defies caution and conventional wisdom. Sometimes, my heart can get so cluttered that there is little capacity for God. If I actually stop and do an "inventory" of my heart, I discover all kinds of desires there, all sorts of attachments, a wide variety of hostilities and judgments, and most of all, a list of worries, tensions and fears. Even though I might turn to God in prayer to give me what I want and remove what I don't, I can't always say my heart is full of the Lord. It takes honest reflection to discover the many ways our possessions and our plans possess us. Our needs and our anxieties quietly erode our capacity for trust.
St. John Paul II captured this holy disposition of the two widows in a phrase called the law of the Gift. This spiritual principle is counterintuitive but it states that you become more fully human, more alive, and more completely the person God made you to be to the extent you give yourself away. If you want to save your life, lay down your life. It is in giving that we receive. Abundance comes from the willing gift of who I am and what I have to others and to God!
In that place of total trust in God, the jar doesn't go empty and the jug never runs dry. Then, instead of asking God to take away my troubles or punish my enemies, I'm asking God to help me to be a source of joy, comfort, assistance to others, to help me be generous because I now see all those who are in greater need than I am. When we are hooked onto the one, true God, who is pure gift and love, we can give and give and we will not run empty.
Now, the opposite is also true. If I cling to substitutes for God, if I turn things into God that are not God, I can hoard all the wealth, power, fame, and pleasures possible and it will still not be enough. I will still feel empty and insecure.
With these readings today, we could ask for the grace to be able to give more from the deepest reserves of who we are and what we have. We get God’s love by giving God’s love away. We can ask, who needs this kind of generosity from me. Who in my family needs what I had instinctively feel is more than I could give? Who in the world, in the church, in this parish needs my generosity, not from my leftovers but from my deepest reserves?
Can we imagine being this generous, this free? We can only get closer to that place by asking for these graces boldly, by letting God love us into freedom, by letting our Lord convince us that our real happiness will be in letting go of more and more, and falling into the hands of a loving God - who keeps faith forever, who protects and provides for widows, and who sets captives free.
