“All the city was gathered at his door.” In that one verse Mark, the Gospel writer, reveals the intensity of public demand for the son of God.
With the setting of the sun most men find escape from their labors—the darkness permitting them to rest. Such was not the case with Jesus. Even as the sun dipped its head, the shadows of the crowds bringing their sick ones sought out the one who gave sight to the blind, made the lame to walk, and healed the sick.
Constantly aware of the nearness of the impending hour when he would become “the lamb to take away the sins of the world,” it became “his meat and drink to do the will of his Heavenly Father.”
The moments he had to himself became sparse and precious. The dew still wet under foot, there on the Mount of Olives he talked with his Father in heaven. Moments treasured before he must return to walk in their midst, “the word made flesh.” To sit in the temple grounds, the market place, beside the well, and watch the people passing. Idle moments would we say ? Rather a time when the greatest teacher to walk this earth became a scholar. Capturing the lessons being acted before him, they became an integral part of his teaching to generations from then on. Instructing those who would listen how they should, or should not, walk before their God.
Such a lesson was forged as Jesus sat one day in the court of the women. In this court of the women were thirteen receptacles each shaped like a trumpet broadening downwards from the aperture, and each adorned with various inscriptions. Into these were cast those religious and benevolent contributions which helped to furnish the temple with splendid adornments.
The rich men and the Pharisees made up the larger part of the crowds lingering around these receptacles. With a pious ritual and proud as peacocks spreading their showy tail-feathers they cast their gifts into the front of the chests delighted at the music of the coins announcing the generosity of the giver to those within hearing.
Paul later on would describe such sacrifices as sounding brass or tinkling cymbals lacking charity.
How disgusted Jesus had become with these men, the supposed “Shepherds of Israel.” What sorrow of heart they had brought him.
Where the darkness of evil had prevailed, suddenly a beam of light appeared. His eyes were drawn toward a poorly clad widow threading her way towards perhaps one of the less conspicuous chests. Poorly dressed as she was, her face displayed her wealth in other things like contentment, peace and a purpose for living. Her mission was revealed in the clenched hand. Depositing her little contribution in the chest, she left as quickly as she had appeared.
Her offering had consisted of two mites, the smallest of current coins.
Finding the street which would lead her home, she mused again on what she had done. “If only she could have given more,” she thought. Not that she cared about the snickering, or the cruel eyes of the rich men. A whispered prayer trembled on her lips, “May the God of Israel be pleased to accept of my gift.” The whole affair was then dismissed from her mind.
Dismissed but not forgotten by one unseen observer, Jesus found pleasure its narrating the event to his apostles.
He said, “Truly I tell you, this poor widow has put in more than all of them: for they all contributed out of their abundance, but she out of her poverty put in all the living that she had.” (R.S.V.)
Her example has drifted through all generations like the perfume of the spring blossom that we might inhale and know the sacrifice that rises acceptable to our God.
Sad to say our offerings often fall short of such divine commendations, imitating more that offered by Ananias and Sapphira. True they gave a great amount, but their offering was spoilt in trying to deceive God. They gave, but made sure the sacrifice did not become a hardship to themselves.
Does our mirror cast a reflection of one giving in the collection on a Sunday morning, but holding back more to be able to sit in the lap of luxury? Or one who spends a little time to visit the aged and the sick, writing to the lonely and depressed, but devoting the abundance of our labor to build monuments for this life?
“We should dig so deep into our pocket it hurts our corns.” This is a favorite expression used by an exhorting brother trying to drive home his message on the way we should give unto the Lord.
An observer of people, Jesus will play this role again when he sits as the judge. How will he see us in passing? Will he be pleased to bestow on us treasures reserved in heaven for those poor in this world’s goods but rich in faith as he says, “You have through love of your Father given everything, even your life.”
The Origin of the Organic World – Part One