When You Have No More to Give — Keep Giving

It was simply by the coincidence of the calendar that observance of the Veterans Day weekend also gave as readings for Sunday Mass two readings that oddly, powerfully deepen our sense of service, duty, giving even to the last. First, we have the moving story of the widow in Zarephath,

"When he came to the gate of the town, a widow was there gathering sticks; he called to her and said, ‘Bring me a little water in a vessel, so that I may drink.’ As she was going to bring it, he called to her and said, ‘Bring me a morsel of bread in your hand.’ But she said, ‘As the Lord your God lives, I have nothing baked, only a handful of meal in a jar, and a little oil in a jug; I am now gathering a couple of sticks, so that I may go home and prepare it for myself and my son, that we may eat it, and die.’" (I Kings 17)

And then, in the Gospel, Jesus’ notice of the poor woman giving from her poverty at the Jerusalem temple, amid the rich donors who flaunt their wealth on Sabbath — and steal from widows on other days,

"He sat down opposite the treasury, and watched the crowd putting money into the treasury. Many rich people put in large sums. A poor widow came and put in two small copper coins, which are worth a penny. Then he called his disciples and said to them, ‘Truly I tell you, this poor widow has put in more than all those who are contributing to the treasury. For all of them have contributed out of their abundance; but she out of her poverty has put in everything she had, all she had to live on.’" (Mark 12)

In both readings, a widow, herself on the edge of disaster, finds herself with a choice to make — hospitality, or care for her son and herself — care for lonely herself in old age, in the face of the shameless greed of the wealthy who rip off the poor even while making public pretenses of piety. They give to the stranger at the door, to the good causes the hope the temple supports. 

Two widows thus speak to us on a Veterans Day weekend when we remember innumerable people who have served their countries — surely for a variety of motives, but so very often simply out of a sense of duty, even when their lives and health are in danger. Whatever we think of wars —  Never again war, never again war!, as Pope Paul VI cried out — we cannot but be grateful for the vast majority who serve because it seems the right thing to do: soldiers like a widow taught never to turn away the unexpected guest, like a widow responding to selfishness not by becoming selfish, but continuing to give in the most routine — and heroic — way. 

And then there was the election. This has made many of us feel widowed, bereft, seeing no good options before us. We cannot abide Trump in his debasement. Many of us were also not wild about Harris and Democratic pomposity either. Trump won, even as we did not, do not, really understand so many of our neighbors across America. We can turn and run, we can imagine striking back. But Veterans Day and the Sunday readings show us that like soldiers, we need still to serve our communities, even when we will surely lose battle after battle. We need to have the courage of widows, doing the right thing — even when we seem to have nothing left to give.