The widow’s offering

Blessed are you who are poor,

For yours is the kingdom of God. Luke 6:20


Read Mark 12:41—44

This woman is one of the very special people of my life. I should like to follow her home, to leave the crowd at the temple behind, to see where she lived. I had not known you could need so little. I would like to catch again the look on her face. Where could she get such a quiet assurance that enabled her to toss her last coins away? No, I would find, they weren’t tossed away. They were given to God. I see that. They were entrusted to God, as she was herself. Where did you get this faith, I would ask. Where the abiding joy? How can you not store up anything for tomorrow? I cannot do that. And why do I not think you are plain foolish? Why do I not think you are deluded? Why do I know, in my heart of hearts, that you are speaking to me, and that you are speaking out of deep joy, and that you speak with the blessing of my master?


Master, thank you for drawing my gaze to this woman. I thank you, first, because you saw her. You selected her out of all others for my special attention. You, who said the Father’s eye is on the birds of the air,[1] who hop about and peck at my backyard, you actually lived in the truth of it. You know my loves. You know my attachments. You know my culture of fitting in. You know what weighs me down and what I need to be released from. But I do not. Even as I turn to my night’s rest, speak into my life about those things you would free me from, all that burdens me, so that I bear your easy yoke.[2]


[1] Matthew 6:26

[2] Matthew 11:28-30