November 10, 2024
32nd Sunday in Ordinary Time
Calling his disciples to himself, he said to them, “Amen, I say to you, this poor widow put in more than all the other contributors to the treasury. For they have all contributed from their surplus wealth, but she, from her poverty, has contributed all she had, her whole livelihood.”
- Mark 12:43-44
This Sunday’s Gospel is one of my favorites – the one about the poor widow. Whenever the Gospel reading talks about humility and/or poverty, I’m always inclined to pick out one or more hymns that cite the Beatitudes, particularly the first one: “Blessed are the poor in spirit…” Did you know that there are four songs in our hymnal that directly cite the Beatitudes? These are: #601 We Are the Light of the World, #740 O How Blessed, #739 Lead Me, Lord, and #742 Blessed and Beloved/Bienaventurados. Depending on which Mass you go to, you may hear one or more of those Beatitudes-themed songs.
Speaking of being poor in spirit, I’ve found it to be somewhat of a pattern in my life that I’ve formed very close bonds with people who struggle with mental health. In the Philippines where I come from, there is much to be desired in the way of mental health awareness. Few understand that for a person who struggles with crippling anxiety, it may well take everything they have to simply get out of the house and carry out the daily tasks that most other people take for granted. As we live in a culture that primarily values results, it is tempting to overlook the effort demanded of one to achieve the same result as another to whom the task may come more easily. It has greatly impacted my life to have lived with people who carry this type of cross, these invisible and so often misunderstood crosses, and to have seen them persevere to the best of their ability, giving the entirety of their two small coins.
In his novel The Pearl, John Steinbeck writes, “For every man in the world functions to the best of his ability, and no one does less than his best, no matter what he may think about it.” When I first read those words, I was immediately skeptical. I thought, hmmm, does everyone really do their best all the time??? If that’s true, then it would mean that no one is ever truly lazy. But that seems contrary to our experience of witnessing people who really do appear to be lazy, and I imagine everyone has at some point procrastinated about something, however small – I can certainly think of many times when I felt I didn’t give my best. But if I can’t judge based on results, how then would I know if someone is giving their best, or only their bare minimum, or if perhaps they might be carrying an invisible cross that I don’t know about? I think it is simply impossible to know with absolute certainty, unless you possessed the omniscient mind of… God.
In my own work as music director, I must often remind myself that although I aim to set a consistent standard of musical quality, each of my choir members is differently equipped – different strengths, different areas for improvement, different level of proficiency, different amount of free time to practice outside of rehearsal, etc. I try to challenge each of my music ministers to give what I believe is their best based on my honest assessment, but every once in a while, I get the assessment wrong, because I too do not possess the omniscient mind of God. The good news is that while no human being has omniscience (with the obvious exception of Jesus), we all have the capacity to be kind. So… how exactly does one enforce a high standard of musical quality while also being kind and sensitive to the many varied circumstances of church musicians who are 100% volunteers? That, dear reader, is a question for another time! On that note, I’d like to share Kierkegaard’s own reflection on the poor widow:
Or consider someone who wants to do an act of mercy — can he do more than give all that he possesses-and did not the widow give infinitely more than the rich man gave out of his abundance! At times the circumstances can determine that a penny signifies little more than it usually signifies, but if someone wants to do something marvelous, he can make the one penny signify just as much as all the world’s gold put together if he gives it out of compassion and the penny is the only one he has. Indeed, someone who has an ear for judging how large the gift is detects the difference just by hearing the jingle of the coins, but compassion and the temple box understand it differently.
When someone who enjoys health and strength and who possesses the best gifts of the spirit enters the service of the good with all that he has, with the range of years that seem to stretch out before him, with expectancy’s every demand upon life, every claim expected and demanded only for the sake of the good — and when, on the other hand, someone who sadly sees his earthly frailty and the day of disintegration so close that he is tempted to speak of the time granted him as the pastor speaks of it, when in the hour of resolution a person like that promises with the pastor’s words “to dedicate these moments” to the service to the good — whose tower then becomes higher? Do they not both reach heaven? Or when one person, a stranger to internal enemies, aggressively directs his mind and thoughts toward humankind in the service of the good and wins thousands, and when another, retreating in internal battles, in the moment of resolution saves himself, whose tower then becomes higher?
- Søren Kierkegaard, Against Cowardliness, in Four Upbuilding Discourses, 1844
With my peace,
Carlo Serrano, Music Director
