Homily for November 8, 2009

Father Tom’s Homily
32nd Sunday
November 8, 2009

I once heard it said that St. Patrick’s Cathedral in New York City was built with the nickels and dimes given by the immigrant poor, like the Irish maids working in the homes of the rich.
It was the nobodies with slight resources that helped to build a monument to their faith, a great cathedral in the heart of the city.
In today’s gospel, Jesus notices the contribution of the very poor widow whose penny was a more generous gift than the ostentatious big donations of the very rich.

One of the best examples of the widow’s penny donation that I have ever heard is from a book about Monseñor Oscar Romero. The book, titled Memories in Mosaic, is a collection of memories of his friends and associates about this great archbishop who was assassinated because of his support for the oppressed poor.
One memory is from a priest who was an assistant at the cathedral in San Salvador. After the Sunday Mass that Romero offered, people would crowd around him to speak to him as he greeted them at the door as they left the cathedral.

Romero was so loved and respected by the poor because each Sunday homily gave voice to their suffering under the extremely harsh military government. He would courageously name the victims that its death squads had claimed that week.
He fearlessly confronted the powerful knowing that his own name was high on their death squad list. He accompanied the poor on their way of the cross as one of them.

At the door people wanted to touch Romero, to hug him, give him flowers or money or some little gift, shake his hand, give him their babies to hold for a moment, or kiss his ring.
Often these brief encounters with him went on for a long time. The people so loved their good shepherd leader.

The assistant priest was there to manage the crowd and to assist the archbishop in whatever way he could. One Sunday he saw an old woman at the edge of the crowd waiting a long time to have a personal moment with Romero.
When she saw the priest, she turned to him. She said, “Padre, with all these people here, I don’t think I’m going to be able to see the Monseñor.”
She said she had a gift to give to Romero. When the priest said he would be happy to give it to him, she reached into an old paper bag she had in the pocket of her apron and pulled out an egg.
When she gave it to him, she said, “Wait I have another,” and handed another egg from her paper bag.

The priest said he would pass these along to the archbishop. She added, “I have something else,” and reach again into her raggedy little bag.
She pulled out a wrinkled one-colon bill. It was worth about 40 cents in U.S. money at the time.
She said, “This is also for Monseñor.” He thanked her.

Curious about this old woman he judged to be in her eighties, who seemed so poor, he asked her, “Tell me, what is your name?”
She said, “Remedios.”
He said, “And where are you from.”
She said, “From Nuevo Edén de San Juan.”

The priest knew about this small town way out in the Morazan Department on the border with Honduras. (This is in the area where Calavera is located.)
Catching at least a couple of buses to reach the city, it would take her most of a day to travel.
He said, “But Niña Remedios, the bus ride must have cost you more than what you are bringing to the Monseñor.”
Her answer completely surprised the priest. She said, “No, because I came to San Salvador on my own two feet.”
“You walked?” he asked. “Yes, I walked,” she answered.

He reassured her that he would personally give the gift to Romero telling him about her and her long journey to bring it to him. And she went away happy. The priest added in his testimony, “I’m sure she returned home on foot as well, this eighty year-old woman.”
When Romero heard about Remedios’ remarkable gift, he made it a special point to mention her by name in the next Sunday’s homily which was broadcast nationwide each week.

The priest added, “I’m sure that Doña Remedios way out there by the Torola River, in Nuevo Edén de San Juan heard him. And I’m sure that both her heart and her feet were happy.”
It’s a modern day version of today’s gospel tale of the generous widow.
The stories of both these very poor old women allows us to see them with God’s eyes.

Mark’s gospel places the widow’s gift from the heart alongside the haughty attitude of some of the religious leaders, who wished to have front row seats at the synagogues and places of honor at banquets.
No only does the gospel reading lift up her offering, but it shows how shallow are the concerns of the scribes who parade around in their long robes and say long prayers.

In his famous autobiography Narrative of the Life of Frederick Douglass written in 1845, the author told of the misery he suffered in his years as a slave in the South.
As a slave, one of his observations was that some of the worst slave owners were those who were the most ostentatious about their religious faith.
These pious ones often treated their slaves cruelly. For example, they would overwork them and regularly whipped them to keep them docile.
They are like the scribes of whom Jesus says, “They devour the houses of widows and, as a pretext, recite lengthy prayers.”

The widow’s action is praiseworthy because she so generously gave without reservation.
Her gift foreshadows the gift that Jesus himself was to make a few days later with his life on the cross. He was a poor man who gave everything he had without reservation.
St. Paul notes Jesus’ gift with these words, “Though he was rich, he became poor for our sakes so that we could become rich through his poverty.”