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A TIME AND A PLACE FOR A TITHE
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I’m happy that the widow of Zarephath encountered Elijah, and I’m sure she and her son were even happier—they didn’t starve to death during the drought-induced famine. I guess I’m happy for Elijah, too, even if it was at his word that God closed up the heavens, producing a multi-year “dry season” as a punishment for King Ahab and Queen Jezebel. After all, he also didn’t starve. He was the beneficiary of the Lord’s largesse to the widow: oil and flour never ran out. I will not discuss the question of the source of the drinking water for these 3, given that there was no rain… But they made it.
I’m far more puzzled by the widow in the Gospel reading, especially yoked as it is to a specific condemnation of the scribes (aka, professional theologians/teachers; aka by analogy, today’s pastors?) who devour widows’ houses. I think of certain TV “evangelists” of what is called the “gospel of prosperity,” assuring folks that God wants them well off and pleasured, and a generous tithe (to them, of course) is the way to show God how much you trust this promise. But it could equally apply to cases when pastors “cook the books” to get special sources of income to buy high-end vacations or beach houses—we’re facing scandals like these today, sadly.
But back to the widow—why was she at the Temple, in line to donate to the treasury? She had to know that most others were giving the equivalent of thousands of dollars (looking good as they did). She had to know she’d look pretty pathetic in the company of those high rollers, including how they and she were dressed. She knew she had nothing to match the amounts of their gifts, as they wrote 5-figure checks without even thinking about it. What did she have? Things we take for granted today (Social Security, Medicare/Medicaid, unemployment insurance…) simply didn’t exist. She had nothing to fall back on. She had what she had, and that was it. So why was she there, and why was she doing what she was doing?
There is only one answer that makes sense to me: she was so in love with the Lord that nothing else, at least for the time being, mattered so much as her chance to make a material gesture that affirmed her love. She was not buying anything; she was showing that she was giving everything. After all, isn’t that the essence of love?
The lesson for us is not about what we’re willing to give; it’s about what we’re not willing to give. Go back again to the rich (young) man on the one hand, and blind Bartimaeus on the other. Which one would we rather want to be? Which one are we more likely to be?
Fantasy time: wouldn’t it be great if the poor widow and Bartimaeus met and got married??
