8 Nov 2015
32nd Sunday in Ordinary
Time, Year B
Every election year we’re faced with the big questions of
social justice. You know, we hear about immigration,
poverty, unemployment, crime and discrimination—just to name a few. Of course, among these issues, we Catholics
pay special attention to the question of “the poor.” And as the next election year goes into full
swing, and we’re hearing what differing sides think, whether it’s Progressives
or Conservatives, or whomever, it’s good to hear again what our Catholic faith
tells us. And today’s Scripture readings
are a good starting point.
Right from the outset, we see that God comes to the poor; he
comes to the starving widow of Zarephath through the Prophet Elijah. And God comes to the poor widow at the Temple
Treasury through the observant eyes of Jesus.
And in both situations God gives high praise to the poor for giving
every last penny they have, every last morsel of food they have.
But that seems to be what God loves about the poor: they
don’t have a surplus of anything, and so everything they give is truly a
sacrifice. When it comes to loving their
neighbor, the poor don’t have a choice but to share what little they have.
And so, our Catholic faith recognizes a certain “solidarity”
with the poor (that’s the word we use . . . “solidarity”). God comes to the poor, and so, we do the
same. They’re the most dependent people
in our society, and in some ways that’s what God asks us to imitate—at least, spiritually
speaking. God asks us to be “poor in
spirit;” to take the risk and actually rely on him—instead of what we consider to be our “surplus.”
And we show our solidarity with the poor in so many way—many
of which we probably don’t even consider important. For instance, when someone we know is in the
hospital, or is in need of some dire help, what’s left, but to pray? When all
our resources are spent, prayer becomes our “widow’s mite.” It’s all we have left, sometimes. But that’s perhaps the most valuable and
important gamble we can make—to bank everything
on the mercy of God. And so, in prayer we can show our solidarity with
the poor . . . we become “poor in
spirit.”
We Catholics are in solidarity with the poor: who’ve maybe fallen
on hard times through no fault of their own, and those who are physically or mentally
unable to care for themselves, those who are starving, those who are lonely or
rejected, and so on. It’s to them that God comes. God comes to the homeless, to the hungry, to
the sick. But he also comes to those who
may not even realize they’re poor.
You know, a trend that’s happening among our youth is an
increase in “doubt”—doubt in their faith, doubt in God, and even doubt in
themselves. Some of our youth decide
they don’t agree with the Church on “this” social issue or “that” teaching, and
so they leave. Without so much as a
brieg conversation, they decide that the 2,000 year old Church, with billions
upon billions of believers throughout time and space, and with God as its head
. . . is wrong.
And so, they follow the path of doubt; they enter into a
world of poverty and become part of “the poor.”
But we remain in solidarity with our younger brothers and sisters—even
if they don’t want us and our prayers for them; even if they don’t know they’re
part of “the poor.”
Or consider friends or family who are divorced, or people who
have mental illnesses, or addictions.
Consider those who have marital problems, or financial problems, or
problems being accepted by others. Think
about those we reject because they’re
. . . different. And then think about ourselves who are rejected by others;
rejected, at least, because of our Catholic faith, if not for other reasons.
The “poor” are all around us.
And we are part of “the
poor.” And God comes to all the poor. Of course, this idea of solidarity with the
poor is one that we usually hear from the “Progressives.” Following God’s example, we would agree: God
shuns no one, certainly not “the poor.”
---
But it’s interesting that, in the stories of the two widows
today, God doesn’t give them a free hand-out.
Elijah doesn’t appear to the widow and say, “Oh, I’m sorry you’re almost
out of food . . . here, let me get you some.”
He doesn’t say that. And when
Jesus sees the widow put her last two coins in the treasury, he doesn’t try to stop
her and say, “Oh, no . . . you keep that money; you need it.” He doesn’t do that. In fact, it’s just the opposite!
Not only does God not
give them a hand-out or a free pass, he expects
them to give what they have. And, of course, God does this because he
knows a valuable truth here (and it’s one we know, too)—the truth that it’s in giving that we receive. Now, we usually associate that with us: “When we give to the poor, we
receive the blessings of having done well.”
But God turns this idea around and says just the same about the poor. When the poor
give, they receive.
And what do the poor receive from their giving, but a sense of worth
and value. That little widow at the Temple Treasury
could’ve thought: “What are my two little coins going to matter here? Are they really
going to make a difference?” But, of
course, they did make a
difference—not so much to the Treasury, perhaps, but to God and to her it made a
difference. She contributed “from her
livelihood;” she shared herself and
so she had a purpose. She mattered because she gave.
This past week I was visiting an elderly woman. She was in her 90s and was pretty much
confined to her home. But she had a
great big smile when I met her at the door, and we had a pleasant talk together. Well, she had been baking some cookies and
told me I just had to take some with
me. And so, of course, I took some
(because you don’t turn down cookies).
But whenever I’m in that situation and that happens, I always
feel like I’m taking something they should probably be enjoying
themselves. But that’s not how this
woman saw it. From her perspective,
those cookies were a gift . . . out
of the little she has, she shared with me.
It wasn’t just some cookies she gave me; it was a piece of herself that she gave me. In her ability to give, she had value; she had purpose, she still had meaning as a
human being, even in her old age.
And so, God knows a valuable truth about the poor which we can sometimes forget: that it’s in giving that we receive. And what “the poor” receive back is their human
dignity. This is a good lesson from
Scripture to remember in this next election year: that—like God himself—we
Catholics expect and challenge the poor to give what they
can. And, of course, we hear this view expressed
by the more “Conservative” voices in politics today.
And so, neither the Progressive nor the Conservative view of
the poor is complete by themselves.
Instead, the two views work together—at least, in our Catholic mindset. We call solidarity
with the poor “solidarity,” and we call encouraging
to the poor to give what they can “subsidiarity.” Solidarity and subsidiarity—those are two
principles central to our Catholic
view of “the poor.”
---
Again, it’s in giving that we receive. And “the poor” have lots of themselves to give, if we encourage them to give. They may not money to give, but they can give out of who God made them to be as a person. We
have lots to give—we, too, are “the poor”—and the more we give of ourselves,
the more of a sense of value and dignity we have.
For instance, I’m a musician; the more music I play—the more
I share of myself—the more dignified I become in my own humanness. Or maybe somebody has a knack for encouraging
others; well, the more they share that gift, the greater sense of worth and purpose
they have.
“Giving” isn’t about what we don’t have . . . “giving” is about what we do have. And everybody, even
the poorest of the poor, has something
to give.
---
Every election year we’re faced again with the big questions
of social justice. And this next
election year won’t be any different.
But when we hear various thoughts on what to do about “the poor,” let’s
consider the views of our Catholic faith.
And let’s remember the example of the Lord, who embraces the
poor, but also helps them to get on their own two feet. Let’s encourage the poor—and each other—to
give what we can of ourselves . . . because it’s in giving that we receive, and
what we receive back is our human dignity.
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