PRAYING WITH THE WIDOW

 

The gospel passage assigned for Sunday, November 7 is (shorter option) Mark 12:41-44:

[Jesus] 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.

Lots of beautiful commentaries have been written on this passage over the centuries, emphasizing especially Jesus' contrasting of the contributions of the wealthy contributors with the widow's two pennies. My encounter with his widow took a slightly different tack the other day when I was doing my morning lectio. I found myself completely distracted, preoccupied with a meeting that I was supposed to run that afternoon. 

I've found that at times like this the best strategy is to take hold of the distraction and enfold it into my prayer. That way the distraction is turned into the focus of my prayer. I know that I need to pray "Lord, why am I worried about this meeting? I've prepared for it, and there's nothing more I can do. So I'm now handing it over completely to you. I'll let you worry about it." This strategy works almost all the time. This is where the poor widow came into my reflection.

Did you ever wonder what was going through her mind as she let go of her two pennies? Was it easy for her to let go? Or was she, perhaps, terrified? In either case she was entrusting herself completely to the Lord's mercy. As Jesus points out to his disciples, what she let go of was "everything she had to live on" (the Greek says "her entire bios," her entire life). And all I need to let go of is my grasping control of a silly meeting! 

It's so hard for me, as it is for any of us, to let go of the cherished fiction that I am in control of things. A minute's reflection, though, is enough to assure me that I'm not ultimately in control of anything. My faith reassures me, however, that I don't need to be in control, because the Lord's "got the whole world in his hands." I sing that line, but how deeply do I believe it? 

The widow stands there by the offering box, her hand, holding her two pennies, hovering over the slot. She looks at me encouragingly as if to say, "Come on. I know that you believe God loves you and takes care of you. So why not just let go?"  She drops her two tiny coins; they hardly make any noise. Only Jesus can hear the sound. I stand there clutching my worries. 

The Widow's Mite painting by Uko Williams