Homilies by Rev. Andrew Collis unless indicated otherwise.
‘A new solidarity’
The marriage of Ruth and Boaz is not a conventional romance in the modern sense of the word. Naomi and Ruth find a way to survive (following a period of grief and destitution), and Boaz accepts an invitation to honour the name of a deceased husband and relative. It may seem culturally alien (marriage has taken, and will yet take, many forms), but it also illumines an aspect of our gospel.
The widow represents all survivors of loving commitments. I see the widow as making a donation to the temple in honour of a deceased spouse who also made donations – celebrated festivals, rituals, community events, and so on.
Her donation is made not solely in her own name, but on behalf of another, alongside an absent other, in the name of a love she honours, in the Spirit of a family. We might think of her today, then, in terms of honouring the dead, and imagine others who give to beloved institutions/communities in honour of deceased spouses, partners, grandparents and parents, siblings, children, friends. God be with you …
Vivid examples of generosity in the context of poverty – giving one’s life in the absence of a life partner or significant other – love after or in spite of dispossession.
A not insignificant example might be the contributions made by many in honour of Trevor Davies and the community paper he founded; in honour of Ali Blogg and Ross Smith … Contributions of volunteer labour. Contributions to Cana Communities in honour of Fr Brian Stoney. Love for Redfern and Waterloo in honour of Mum Shirl, Fr Ted Kennedy, Irene Doutney. Love within families in honour of deceased grandparents, parents, siblings, children …
Inspired generosity in the context of poverty.
Christianity itself constitutes an example of inspired response in this sense. Our donations (money, resources, time) are made not solely in our own names but on behalf of others, in the name of a Saviour and Lover we honour, in the Holy Spirit of a family.
As Mark’s Jesus walks toward Jerusalem and his death, he encounters an assorted group of “little people” who embody gospel values: a grieving father who cries, “I believe, help my unbelief”; a bevy of children who remind him of what it means to enter God’s kindom; an unknown exorcist who casts out demons in Jesus’ name; a blind beggar whose faith brings healing and who bounds up to follow Jesus.
In today’s reading, which recounts Jesus’ final public act before his farewell speech to the disciples and subsequent passion, a poor widow gives “her whole livelihood” (literally, her “life”).
Frequent refrains in Israel’s laws called for special care of the widow, the orphan, the poor and the stranger in the land:
Exodus 23:9 “You shall not oppress a resident alien.”
Leviticus 19:34 “You shall also love the stranger, for you were strangers in the house of Egypt.”
Exodus 22:22 “You shall not abuse any widow or orphan.”
Deuteronomy 24:21 “When you gather the grapes of your vineyard, do not glean what is left; it shall be for the alien, the orphan, and the widow.” Deuteronomy 27:19 “Cursed be anyone who deprives the alien, the orphan, and the widow of justice.”
The Hebrew and Greek terms for “widow” come from roots that suggest helplessness, emptiness or being forsaken; and what these people had in common was their isolation from the web of love and support, and a deep sense of powerlessness. In traditional societies today a similar fate often awaits. And in our seemingly prosperous society widows (and widowers) often suffer, in addition to their deep grief, from economic loss, the burden of raising a family alone and isolation from friends.
Jesus teaches in the temple, which had recently been magnificently reconstructed by Herod, one of the great builders of the ancient world. The temple area was twice as large as the Roman forum, and the sight caused Jesus’ disciples to point to “the wonderful stones and wonderful buildings” (Mk. 13:1). It was a religious and commercial centre with a large staff, requiring great financial resources.
After a number of disputes with the temple establishment, Jesus lashes out at the scribes, pillorying their social and religious posturing – wearing elaborate vestments, glorying in signs of honour, but most harshly “devouring the houses of widows” by promising to recite lengthy prayers. (Says one commentator: This sounds hauntingly like certain contemporary religious fund-
Jesus then sits, faces the treasury and watches people donate money, most likely putting it in boxes marked “alms,” which have been found by archaeologists. A poor widow comes by; Jesus notices her as she throws in a couple of coins (lepta), the equivalent of a few cents.
The contrast is stark, not only between the rich, who give out of their surplus, and the widow, but also between the widow and the scribes. In contrast to the external signs of honour sought by the scribes, she possesses true honour in God’s eyes. Her action not only symbolises what Jesus will do (that is, give his life) but provides a “bookend” with the action of the woman in Mk. 14:1-
These nameless “little people” are great in their courage and service, even in the face of powerful institutions that can exploit them and crush their loved ones. Their kin are all around us today … Even if we don’t, for the most part, see them.
“Little people” of courage and service may be returned servicemen and women traumatised by war, or those in mourning for loved ones lost to war or armed conflict. “Little people” of courage and service may be adults surviving child abuse, inching towards recovery.
“Little people” of courage and service may be the migrants who work long hours, without security or insurance, in our factories and abattoirs. “Little people” of courage and service may be the farmers who, from the hands of big food corporations, receive very little for their crops. “Little people” of courage and service may be the young labourers overseas who assemble our computer products.
“Little people” of courage and service may be those experiencing or at risk of homelessness, those overcoming fears of addiction and persecution, those dealing with (mental) confusion and (physical) exhaustion – some of whom we pass on the street as we make our way to work or worship, to the movies or to the theatre.
Jesus calls us to sit with him for a moment and watch to see who participates in the life of our churches, our communities, our schools and colleges, our economies – to look into the dark corners for people in need of food, clothing, shelter, decent wages, a helping hand, an advocate, a friend.
And then not simply to observe, but to help those whom we see to call other people and invite them to open their eyes, too – to go and talk with those who are hidden in plain view – to ask them about their lives, to ask them how we might partner with them to create hope and new life – to demonstrate that God’s way is not the way of oppression, but the way of justice and love (Christie M. Dalton) – to demonstrate what Brother Ghislain of Taize calls a “new solidarity”:
Let’s complete the homily together. You’re invited to come in silence, to pray silently and to drop a coin into the “alms” box as you pray for someone you know who has lost a spouse, close friend or social network … for single people and the many gifts that single people bring to the church and community … Amen.