1 Kings 17: 10-16; Hebrews 9: 24-28; Mark 12: 38-44.
Fr. Kevin Boucher
I will never forget the first time I met Matthew. He was a gentleman that the priest’s at St. Paul Seminary had “adopted.” About once a week he would show up on the doorsteps of the seminary looking for one of the priests to hear his confession, or give him a bite to eat, or a few dollars to help pay his bills. He never raised a fuss. He always stood patiently waiting at the door for someone to come through and let him inside the building no matter how cold it was outside. He would then make his way up the stairs to the apartments where the priests lived. This was no small feat because Matthew was blind.
I have to confess the first time I saw him I didn’t quite know what to expect because he was quite poorly dressed, and not very clean. I didn’t know what he was doing at the seminary in this fairly affluent neighborhood. Surely, I thought, he must be lost. It was pretty hard not to notice him, but many people would pretend that he wasn’t there and go out of their way to avoid him. I even found myself doing this a couple of times.
But then one night, the night I met him, we were hosting a party at the seminary. It was a recognition party honoring all of our benefactors and the people there were dressed in their finest attire. The women were wearing minks and expensive jewelry. The men were wearing there finest tailored suits and it truly was a gala affair with the finest people of the St. Paul Archdiocese in attendance. About a half hour into the event in walks Matthew asking if someone could call him a cab. Most of the people didn’t even seem to notice he was there. One of the priests saw him come into the room so he brought him over to the punch table, got him a seat, and then went to his room to call the cab company.
In the meantime I had wandered over to the punch table and Matthew caught my attention asking me if I could direct him to the bathroom. I had to take him by the arm and show him to the proper room. After that the priest came down and told him that his cab should be here in about 5 minutes. Matthew asked me if I could show him the way to the end of the sidewalk. We stood there and talked for about 20 minutes before the cab finally arrived. He got in and I sent him on his way without a second thought.
A couple of weeks later Matthew came back to the seminary and as he walked by me I said hello. He stopped, turned to me, and called me by name thanking me for waiting with him for the cab the other night. He had recognized my voice and remembered my name. But most of all he thanked me. He had nothing else to give me but his gratitude. He had nothing to give me but his gift of self.
It was a tremendous gift which he gave me that day. He gave me the gift of recognition. In the dark world in which Matthew lives he now knows a person who did nothing more than spend some time with him, and he was grateful for that. He didn’t have to say thank you to me because I had done nothing for him. But he did so because he had his priorities straight.
There was another gala party and the people who were dressed in their finest robes were sitting about in the places of honor. They had their priorities messed up. They thought that just because they were in charge of the temple, they were the most important people. The collection boxes were clinking noisily as others dropped their bags of money into the treasury. Most of the people there probably did not even notice the widow come into the room and deposit her few small coins. Not even Jesus’ own disciples noticed the woman because he had to call them over to himself and point her out to them. She was a relatively non-descript woman, fulfilling her obligation as a Jew, and showing her love and trust in God by giving the last of her money to the temple. And most of the people did not even know or care that she was there.
This woman had given all of her money because she believed it was the right thing to do. The widow that Elijah met gave him her last bit of food knowing full well that she would then die of starvation. These women totally placed their trust in God. These women had surrendered their lives totally to the Lord and nobody ever really noticed them. But they had their values straight.
The rich in the temple were not being berated for their generosity. In fact the Lord loves a cheerful giver. But Jesus wanted to point out that sizable amounts are not necessarily a measure of values and priorities. The true measure of values is what is inside a person’s heart. The widows in today’s stories truly valued God above all things, even their own worldly existence. Matthew valued the reality that he had been noticed and treated with respect as a human being and he in turn did the same.
There are many people in our world, in our society, in our community who are never given a second thought because they don’t seem to be able to give anything in return. There are the poor who some say are a burden to the economic system. There are the unemployed and the homeless who some say are a burden to our welfare systems. There are the mentally and physically challenged who some say are a burden to our social systems. There are the nameless, faceless unborn, who are destroyed each day simply because they are unwanted.
But all of these people are human beings. All of these people have value because they are God’s children. All of these people deserve the same rights and dignity which are afforded to us. If we truly wish to call ourselves Christian; if we truly believe that we become one body, one spirit in Christ, through our sharing of this Eucharist, then we better have our priorities straight.
We have the responsibility of recognizing all people as equal. We have the obligation to work against attitudes and structures which treat people unfairly. But above all, when we treat people with respect and dignity, we will see Christ in those very same people.
