November 8, 2021
Paulist Fr. Rich Andre preached this homily on the 32nd Sunday of Ordinary Time (Year B) on November 7, 2021, at St. Austin Catholic Parish in Austin, TX. The homily is based on the day’s readings: 1 Kings 17:10-16; Psalm 146; Hebrews 9:24-28; and Mark 12:38-44.
Today’s gospel passage is about the widow giving her last two cents to the temple treasury. Our first reading – about Elijah and the widow of Zarephath – picks up the same theme. But some additional context will help set the story:
In the Bible, Elijah suddenly appears out of nowhere, declaring to King Ahab that there will be a drought for several years. God eventually sends Elijah into the foreign land of Sidon, telling him that a widow there will provide for him in the middle of the drought. Apparently, neither God nor Elijah bother to tell the widow that she’s part of the plan. And yet, this widow willingly shares the little water that she has. The food she has is so minimal, it cannot be split among her, her son, and Elijah; yet somehow, God provides.
God provides for us at every moment of our lives. Let us take a moment to reflect on God’s abundant gifts for us, including the gift of mercy.
Lord Jesus, you raise the dead to life in the Spirit. Lord, have mercy.
Lord Jesus, you heal the wounds of sin and division. Christ, have mercy.
Lord Jesus, you feed us with your body and blood. Lord…
Roughly a year after I came to St. Austin, I became middle-aged. It wasn’t one certain event or on my birthday. It was the gradual onset of several minor medical conditions, slightly more weight, slightly less hair on my head, slightly worse memory and slightly less energy, making it slightly harder to juggle my tasks. Then, adding insult to injury, a bunch of my classmates from high school started posting pictures of their children going to the high school prom. When I went to the prom, my dad was 60 years old, but here was the scary truth: at 43 years of age, even if I had gotten married after college, I still could have children graduating high school!
So, two years later, when I saw the musical Dear Evan Hansen on Broadway, it’s not surprising that I struggled to relate to the title character, a high school student who gets caught in a lie that makes international headlines due social media. I didn’t open a social media account until I was 34 years old, and that was only because I was missing out on what my younger seminary classmates were doing.
However, I did find myself relating to the secondary character of Heidi, the mother of the protagonist. Divorced when Evan was just a few years old, working a lot of hours as a nurse, she questions how best she can help her son overcome his crippling anxiety. In the opening number, after failing to cheer Evan up as he heads off for the first day of school, she sings alone on stage:
I’m kinda coming up empty,
Can’t find my way to you.Does anybody have a map?
Anybody maybe happen to know how the [heck] to do this?
I don’t know if you can tell,
But this is me just pretending to know.
In his book called Life After Youth, Marist Brother Seán Sammon says that for most men in the developed world, the first 4 to 5 years of middle age are a time of transition. The growth edge is recognizing that sometimes, you’re going to come up empty. Too often, we try to solve new problems with old solutions, so that we don’t make time to explore the new God-given abilities we’ve acquired through our life experiences. Middle age is a time to let go of certain dreams, certain forms of control, certain ways of doing things, so that we can flourish in new ways. What we do is enough. I’ve been middle aged for four and a half years now, and I’m questioning whether I’ll have this transition figured out in the next six months like Brother Seán says that I should!
And honestly, as someone who is only now openly acknowledging that he is middle-aged, this is how I most relate to the widows in our readings today. Even before the pandemic, the old ways of being me weren’t working as well as they used to. I was – and still am – being invited by the Holy Spirit to change, to grow, to flourish. I have more than a little bit of water and oil, more than two cents to spend on almond flour – it’s been four years since I’ve been diagnosed as gluten sensitive – but my big limits are time and energy. I can’t accomplish as much as I’d like to on any given day, but I know the Holy Spirit isn’t done with me yet! I can do anything I want, but I can’t do everything I want. I’m sure that some of the things that I’m spending my energy on are not the things God wants me to do. If I stuck to what God asked of me, I’m sure I’d have the time and the energy I need!
Perhaps that’s why, for me, the highlight of Dear Evan Hansen is a simple song near the end of the show. Evan’s mom finds the right words to reach her son as his world collapses. She shares how she felt on the February day when her ex-husband moved out, leaving her alone to try to explain to her frightened preschool-aged son that a second moving truck would not be taking her away from him.
The house felt so big, and I felt so small
The house felt so big, and I—
And I knew there would be moments that I’d miss
And I knew there would be space I couldn’t fill
And I knew I’d come up short a billion different ways
And I did.
And I do.
And I will.But like that February day
I will take your hand, squeeze it tightly and say
There’s not another truck in the drivewayYour mom isn’t going anywhere
Your mom is staying right here
Your mom isn’t going anywhere
Your mom is staying right here
No matter what
I’ll be hereWhen it all feels so big
‘Til it all feels so small
Heidi’s gift to her son is simply… herself, and her recognition that she doesn’t have all the answers. Like the widows in our readings, she gives what she has, nothing more, but just as importantly, nothing less.
When we reach a crisis and it seems as if we have barely anything to give, be it oil, or flour, or time, or energy, when we approach that moment with a spirit of prayer and humility, God blesses us with abundant grace. God sustains us… providing whatever we need from the little we have to offer. And by the grace of God, when God asks us to do something, what we have, as minimal as it may seem to us, will always be sufficient.
by Benj Pasek and Justin Paul
performed by Liz Callaway