A chicken and a pig were walking down the road chatting when they passed a diner. In the window was a sign, “Special today: bacon and eggs.” The chicken turned to the pig and said, “Isn’t that nice. We’re featured today.” “Nice for you,” said the pig. “You only have to make a contribution; I have to make a commitment.” Many things in life require that we make a commitment and go all in. If you are preparing to jump out of an airplane you’re committed to your parachute opening. My niece is an OR nurse and her job is to confirm with the patient and the doctor what they are doing in the operating room. “We’re operating on your right knee today, is that correct.” “Doctor, we are operating on the right knee today.” Get it right before committing to cutting. In Church we make sure that people are making a commitment and not going through the motions. In the wedding ceremony the celebrant questions the couple to confirm that they intend an exclusive, life-long union before they exchange their vows. During a baptismal rite, after the profession of the baptismal promises the one being baptized, or their parents in the case of an infant, is asked “Is it your will that you should be baptized in the faith we have just professed together.” The most important things in life require a commitment more than a contribution.
The widow in the gospel story today went all in, betting the rent money, so to speak, on God, giving “all she had, her whole livelihood.” The gospel doesn’t give us any background on what motivated her but we can guess. As a widow in a patriarchal society her life had been difficult. She had come to depend on God over the years. She had found that in many unexpected ways God had blessed her even in the midst of her troubles. She had learned to trust that the God who was blessing her would continue to do so. “We’ve come this far by faith, leaning on the Lord, trusting in his holy word. God’s never failed me yet.” Because she felt herself to be blessed she was grateful. In her gratitude she wanted to make a return to the Lord. The offering she made to the treasury, the widow’s mite, would not have seemed like much to others but it was her way of letting God know her gratitude and her trust.
What about us? How do we move from simply giving ourselves in dribs and drabs to God and go all in, demonstrating our commitment? We, like the widow of the gospel, have been blessed. Yes, there have been ups and downs but every morning we put two feet on the ground and are given a new day to grow in grace. And yes again, we can trust that God is faithful and will, as the epistle puts it, “bring salvation to those who eagerly await him.” So how do we show our gratitude and trust? What return can we make to the Lord? One of the masters of the spiritual life, St. Ignatius, answered those questions by creating what he called Spiritual Exercises to help develop the spiritual muscles of gratitude and trust. He began the exercises by reminding us of our need for God, of how often we mess up and depend on God’s forgiveness. Then he takes us through the stories of the life of Jesus culminating in his death and resurrection. Once we understand that God’s love for us is complete, total and unconditional despite our faults and failings, then we want to respond in gratitude and trust. Ignatius suggests a prayer that we might say to make a return to the Lord for all the blessings received. He called it the Contemplation to Obtain the Love of God. It goes like this:
“Take, Lord, receive, all my liberty, my memory, understanding, my entire will, all I have and possess. You have given all to me, now I return it. All is yours now dispose of it wholly according to your will. Give me only your love and your grace, that’s enough for me. Your love and your grace are enough for me.” That prayer is a reminder everything we have, everything that matters is a gift. We did not create our memory, understanding and will but as Children of God we possess these gifts. We can’t claim them as our property and possession. On the one hand, my liberty, memory, understanding, and will don’t matter that much in the grand scheme of things, worth no more than two small coins worth a few cents. But to me they matter a lot! How do I reach the point of being able to give them back to God? Take my Liberty? I resist losing my independence when I can no longer drive and go where I please. Take my memory? I dread that I might lose my memory in the future since my memory makes me me. Take my understanding? That ship has sailed. After last Tuesday I already don’t understand what is happening. I get it that St. Ignatius is right and God has given all to me but I want to hold onto those gifts even as aging threatens to take them away.
We give it all away, return it to God, the secret of the widow’s mite, only after we accept that we live in God’s world, and not our own. That happens when we lose ourselves in prayer, when we look through the ordinary and find the world is, in fact, charged with the presence of God. Mary Oliver, a favorite poet, describes how this happens in a poem entitled: “Praying.”
It doesn’t have to be
the blue iris, it could be
weeds in a vacant lot, or a few
small stones; just
pay attention, then patch
a few words together and don’t try
to make them elaborate, this isn’t
a contest but the doorway
into thanks, and a silence in which
another voice may speak.