A local charity realised it had never received donations from the town’s most successful businessman. The volunteer in charge of donations called him to persuade him to contribute. “Sir, wouldn’t you like to give back to the community somehow?” The businessman thought about it for a second and replied, “First, do you know that my mother is dying after a long illness, and she cannot afford proper care?” Embarrassed, the volunteer mumbled, “Um… No.” “Second, do you know that my brother is a disabled veteran, blind and confined to a wheelchair?” The stricken volunteer began to stammer out an apology but was cut off. “Third, do you know that my sister’s husband died in a horrific traffic accident, leaving her penniless with three children?!” The humiliated volunteer, utterly beaten, sheepishly said, “I had no idea…” The businessman cut him off once again, “… And I don’t give them any money, so why should I give any to you?”
The story of the thirsty and hungry prophet Elijah and a nameless widow in today’s first reading can be uplifting because we know its happy ending, set against dire initial circumstances. A drought caused widespread severe famine. Initially, on God’s order, the prophet stayed by a stream in the wilderness, where ravens miraculously provided him with food. When the stream dried up, God directed him to the pagan town of Sidon to seek shelter. It doesn’t look like a big deal to us, as we are used to travelling freely to various places and seeing people from all over the world in our towns and cities. However, as the prophet Elijah’s life had been defined by his fight against pagan influence in Israel, seeking shelter among those he saw as enemies must have been truly challenging. When he approached the city gate, he cautiously (I imagine) asked for some water, perhaps expecting a hostile reception, similar to the one Jesus had when he asked a Samaritan woman to give him water to drink, only to get a scoffing response: “How is it that you, a Jew, ask a drink of me, a woman of Samaria?” (John 4:9) I guess the prophet Elijah might have been surprised to see the woman readily responding to his plea. Encouraged by her willingness, he also asked for food; a request that triggered the woman’s bitter explanation of her dire situation: “I have […] only a handful of meal in a jar and a little oil in a jug; I am just gathering a stick or two to go and prepare this for myself and my son to eat, and then we shall die.” The prophet’s reaction seemed brash: “First, make a little scone of it for me and bring it to me, and then make some for yourself and for your son.” It was wrapped in soothing words (“Do not be afraid”) and a promise made in the name of God: “Jar of meal shall not be spent, jug of oil shall not be emptied, before the day when the Lord sends rain on the face of the earth.” But she wasn’t a fellow believer as she had made it clear a moment earlier: “As the Lord your God lives.” There was a massive jeopardy in trusting the stranger and his promises, but the reward would be her and her son’s survival. The choice was hers to make. She took the risk, shared her meagre resources and experienced the fulfilment of the promise. Mind that the vessels wouldn’t overflow with plenty; they kept holding just enough to let the three of them scrape through.
In today’s gospel, we had a different widow who accidentally earned Jesus’ commendation for offering a massive contribution to the upkeep of the Temple: “two small coins, the equivalent of a penny.” Unlike other wealthy donors who gave what was superfluous to their needs, “from the little she had has put in everything she possessed, all she had to live on.” It’s very tempting to use this story to encourage you to give all your money to the church. But I’m aware of Jesus’ warning against people like that: “Beware of the scribes who like to walk about in long robes, […] to take the front seats […] and the places of honour […]; these are the men who swallow the property of widows while making a show of lengthy prayers.” However, Jesus praised less the purely financial contribution of the widow; much more her willingness to make a personal sacrifice for the benefit of others, as the Temple (in that case) served the community as a whole. That is something I’m willing to ask you to consider, namely volunteering.
We are blessed to have already a number of people who build up our parish community in so many ways that any attempt to list them would inevitably result in me upsettingly missing out on some. However, we must not be complacent with what we have now; we must think about the future and continuity. We must be forming a new generation of catechists, readers, musicians, ushers, tea & coffee makers, volunteer drivers, those who set up the place for Sunday Mass, and so many more. You see shortcomings and wonder, “Why didn’t somebody do something?” Maybe it’s time to realise that you are that “somebody.” “If you think you are too small to make a difference, try sleeping with a mosquito.” Even when your age or health stops you from doing things, you can pray for the community. You might worry about how volunteering makes you feel until you actually help someone and see how it makes them feel. If you’d love to get involved but have no time, imagine the conversation at the cemetery: “See that grave marker? That’s Freddie; he always said he wanted to volunteer but could never find the time. I guess he still hasn’t.”
