The Temple of Herod was huge. Its walls enclosed an area covering some 35 acres. Nearly all of that was open air, with various impressive colonnades and gates and dividing walls. Once inside the outer Temple walls and gates, you found yourself in the largest area, the Court of gentiles. That meant gentile converts to Judaism, and Jews who had not achieved a state of ritual purity. Passing through that you came to the Court of women: that is, where ritually pure Jewish women could come: but no further. Passing through that you came to the Court of Israelite men. Then passing through that there was the Court of Priests, where the Altar of Sacrifice stood. Then at last, through the great doors of the massive facade, there was the Holy Place. This at last was an indoor area: more like what we associate with the sanctuary of a Church. Then within that Holy Place, on the other side of a heavy curtain, there was the final inner sanctum: the Holy of Holies, where only the High Priest ever went, and that only once a year.
Apparently the receptacles for financial offerings in the outer Courts had brass, trumpet shaped mouths. All money was in metal coin, so all offerings made very satisfactory clanging sounds! Unless, of course, all you had was the minuscule smallest coin of those days. This was so light that its fall into the treasury must have been virtually inaudible.
The words of our Lord about the poor widow are the last he spoke in the Temple before his Passion. In the previous Chapter of St. Mark’s Gospel he had violently driven out the animal dealers and money changers (11:15-19). Then he engaged in a series of sharp public confrontations, all within the Temple, denouncing in turn the Pharisees and Herodians and Sadducees and Scribes. He prophesied impending destruction, not only of the Temple itself, but of Israel as a whole, especially through his parable of the wicked tenants. But now, his parting words, on leaving this sacred space forever, are of admiration, and praise.
The anonymous widow whom Jesus observed is one of the anawim, the poor of the Lord; a representative of faithful Israel; truly loving God with all her heart, and certainly pleasing to Him. Such people stand well prepared for the coming of Christ’s Kingdom (cf. 12:34; Lk 6:20; Mt 5:3). This widow is without resources, because women then had no legal or property rights. Her husband is dead; maybe her sons are too; maybe rapacious relatives, or maybe cynical religious authorities, have swallowed up her property. Someone else in her position might well have become bitter, and resentful, and angry, and loudly complaining. Not this one. She is focussed, for now anyway, only on worshipping God; on giving to Him what she can, and indeed all she has, in praise and thanksgiving and adoration.
In praising her, Jesus sets before us once again the paradox of the Gospel, with its inversion of expected values. Someone who is poor and insignificant can count for a lot before God. Those who are wealthy and powerful and influential can perhaps be worth very little. A great modern exponent of this understanding was St. Thérèse of Lisieux. She had great ambitions, and wanted to achieve great things, for the salvation of the whole world. And she did all that. But her “little way” was the way of humility, of childlikeness; doing little things with love; giving whatever she had, or could, however insignificant, with total generosity and abandonment.
Today’s Gospel reminds us again of who really counts in the Catholic Church; who really makes a difference; who is truly powerful with God. It is the Saints, the humble ones, often the little ones: those who truly love Jesus above all things; those who pray a lot; those who in Christ have overcome worldly and fleshly temptations, and live in true holiness of life. Such people still of course need the ministry of Pope and Bishops and clergy for the Sacraments, and the ecclesial government. But God is not deceived, and he sees very clearly where religion and virtue and pious words are phoney, and empty hypocrisy, and merely a cover for corruption or complicity with evil. Today’s media easily finds out and focusses on the scandals and sins of prominent Church people. But they less easily see the Saints, who are her true glory and authentic witness.
Perhaps all of us are very aware of how our sins are noted by God and due for punishment. But the promise of Jesus is also that our good deeds will be rewarded, and in full measure. Jesus noticed the coins of the widow. And God notices all hidden good deeds whatever: all little acts of unselfishness and generosity, or self denial, or forgiveness, or devotion, or simply of charity.
Not one sparrow falls to the ground without your Father knowing, says Jesus; and you are worth more than many sparrows (Mt 10:29). Ah, we respond, but my good deeds are so few, so poor, so compromised! Similarly my sufferings! I would offer those, if I thought them of any worth. But what are they compared with what other people suffer, or with what Jesus himself suffered on the Cross? And our Lord responds: even the poor widow needed to be saved by my blood. But having been so saved, and joined to me, made one with me, in the Holy Spirit, all her good deeds gain infinite value.
And so now here we are, coming not to the Temple, but to Holy Mass. We offer to God not symbolic animal sacrifices, but the perfect and unique sacrifice of Christ. We offer his infinite merits, and to that we unite all our own insignificant offerings: our merits, our prayers, our sufferings. Then we find ourselves in Christ rich indeed; of very great value; pleasing to God, useful for the Church, and well set on course for our heavenly inheritance.