This morning’s Gospel reading is Mark 12:38–44:

In the course of his teaching Jesus said to the crowds, “Beware of the scribes, who like to go around in long robes and accept greetings in the marketplaces, seats of honor in synagogues, and places of honor at banquets. They devour the houses of widows and, as a pretext recite lengthy prayers. They will receive a very severe condemnation.”

He sat down opposite the treasury and observed how the crowd put money into the treasury. Many rich people put in large sums. A poor widow also came and put in two small coins worth a few cents. Calling his disciples to himself, he said to them, “Amen, I say to you, this poor widow put in more than all the other contributors to the treasury. For they have all contributed from their surplus wealth, but she, from her poverty, has contributed all she had, her whole livelihood.”

How much should we put in the collection plate?

If you’re anything like me, you ask this question — especially when visiting another parish or place of worship rather than at your usual church. These days, I rarely make my offerings during Mass, since I usually don’t carry much cash. Thanks to electronic giving, I’m much more consistent about my contributions than I used to be, but that doesn’t help much when I’m attending Mass at another church.

I end up having to choose between two Clint Eastwood films, as today’s headline suggests. Should I throw in A Fistful of Dollars, or only A Few Dollars More?

This is, of course, the wrong question entirely. Today’s Gospel reading and the first reading from 1 Kings reminds of the real question: what is the level of your faith in the Lord, and how much are you willing to sacrifice? The latter doesn’t come measured in dollar signs, but in what exactly we treasure most. Is it salvation, or is it wealth? Nothing in either passage suggests that we shouldn’t act responsibly with money. However, both passages urge us to consider what acting responsibly means in light of Christ’s salvation and the mission of His Church.

In fact, Jesus begins his observation about the widow by pointing out that the scribes aren’t even using their own money for their sacrifices. He accuses them of stealing from others to gain wealth, and then using their stolen money to make a public show of piety. Even putting aside the obvious hypocrisy and sin, what kind of commitment does that sacrifice really show? And what did such scribes hope to gain from it? That might fool casual observers, but if they had actual faith in the Lord, they would have recognized that He can’t be fooled by such dishonesty. These are the acts of the faithless, no matter how much money ended up in the temple treasury by their hands.

In contrast, the poor widow barely scrapes by, in part because of the conniving of these authorities. Rather than hoard what she has left to survive, she places her trust in the Lord and offers what little she has to the temple treasury. That is an act of faith, as Jesus points out, that rings much louder than anyone who just donates some spare change.

The first reading takes us beyond that, however, and into the way God answers our sacrifice. Elijah comes across a widow and asks her for a small cupful of water and “a bit of bread.” The widow explains that she has nothing except for a handful of flour and a few drops of oil, which she was about to prepare as one last starvation meal for herself and her son. Elijah asks her to share the bread and allow God’s power to work through her, and in faith she gives up the last morsel of bread she has to the prophet. In doing that, the Lord blessed her for her sacrifice on behalf of His prophet, and she and her son never went hungry again.

This foreshadows the Eucharist so strongly that it’s almost too obvious to point out. As the body of Christ, we offer flour and water (as well as wine) as a sacrifice in our spiritual poverty in the Mass. The priest, acting in persona Christi capiti, transubstantiates it into the body and blood of Christ, giving us the nourishment to continue our spiritual journey to salvation. This offering and the acceptance of the Eucharist requires our full cooperation and faith, without which it becomes meaningless to us.

It is our faith as much as our sacrifice that God multiplies in this process. The widow gave Elijah only a morsel of bread, and yet she ate for a year — thanks to her faith. The widow put in her few cents into the treasury, and yet Jesus blessed her as holier and more faithful than anyone else in that congregation with her demonstration of faith in the Lord. The Eucharist comes from our ongoing cooperation in the one sacrifice of Jesus on the cross, a limitless blessing of that liturgical cooperation with the Lord.

Our sacrifice is measured in the completeness of our commitment to God and our trust in Him, not in dollar signs. The two poor widows in today’s readings turned out to be wealthier than all in the Lord, and offer us a better metric than Clint Eastwood’s greatest hits.

The front-page image is a detail from “The Prophet Elias and the Widow of Serepta” by Bernardo Strozzi, c. 1640-44. Currently on display at the Kunsthistorisches Museum. Via Wikimedia Commons.  

“Sunday Reflection” is a regular feature, looking at the specific readings used in today’s Mass in Catholic parishes around the world. The reflection represents only my own point of view, intended to help prepare myself for the Lord’s day and perhaps spark a meaningful discussion. Previous Sunday Reflections from the main page can be found here.