Fr Kevin Kilgore

Growing up, I heard a story about a young boy whose mother sent him off to Mass. But before he left, she gave him two quarters. (This is back when a quarter was still worth something!)

“This quarter,” she said, “is for God. And this one is for you to get a candy bar after Mass.”

Delighted, the boy runs off.

While making his way into town – just as he’s crossing a bridge – he trips over his shoelaces, causing the two quarters to fly out of his hand.

Fortunately, he’s able to save one of them. But the other rolls off the bridge into the water below.

Looking up at God, back down at the water, and up to God again, he sighs and says, “Sorry God, that one was yours.”

***

“Sorry God, that one was yours.”

***

In the Gospel, a poor widow empties her life savings into the Temple treasury. By today’s standards, it may have been worth fifty cents … two quarters.

***

On the surface, I’m sure we’re all thankful we’re not poor like that widow.

Imagine her stomach growling with hunger, her bones aching with age, her clothes reeking with dust, as she drops her final two coins into the collection.

Where does she go from here? How will she get through the day?

The fact that she’s a widow also means that she has no husband at home – he must have died some years before – and perhaps she has no children, either. She is bitterly poor, truly on the fringe of society.

It’s easy to think, “Thankfully that isn’t me.”

***

But, on a deeper level, we may discover a type of envy in our hearts.

This widow gives everything she has to God.

The fact that she gives only two quarters is not the point. What matters is the fact that she hands herself entirely over to God, something only the Saints are able to do.

Deep down, some of us may be thinking, “I wish I could give myself like that to Christ…how my life would be different! I wish I had that kind of radical abandon…that kind of faith, that kind of trust, that level of generosity.”

“I wish I had it…But I don’t. I’m not like that widow at all.”

And so the widow’s story gets filed away in our minds in the same section as the other Saints, whom we admire on Sundays or on their feast days.

We listen to their stories, but walk away unchanged.

***

What if that’s a lie? What if we really do have something in common with the widow? What if there is something we can all give to God, something we have very little of?

***

We are all limited by our time.

We only have so much of it, and we’re all afraid of when it will run out.

For this reason, time can be harder to share than treasure. You can give a dollar away today and earn another one tomorrow, but you can never get your time back.

Once it’s spent, it’s gone.

That’s why it can be much harder to give God our time than our wallet. But that’s what he’s really after in the end anyway – our undivided attention.

The same is true for our family and friends.

I’ve never met any child who’s said, “I wish my parents worked more.” Or, “I wish my grandparents missed more of my soccer games.” Or, “I wish my best friend moved to another town sooner.”

I’ve never met any couple that’s fallen in love say, “I wish our time together would run out.”

Or any person say, “This has been the best day ever. I hope it ends quickly!”

We always want more time, which is why it may be our most valuable possession.

***

So how much of my time do I give to God, to my family, and to serving the poor?

And how much time do I keep for myself?

***

Can I give more of my time away?

***

As the old saying goes, “Time is money.” Like that widow, let’s spend our time where it really counts – on God, our family and friends, and serving Jesus in the poor.

***

“Love your God… Love your neighbor.”

What a timely Gospel this is in light of what happened recently in Pittsburgh, along with countless other acts of violence, hatred and discrimination that will unfold in our nation and in our world today.

The truth is the Gospel challenges us to see everyone as created equally by God, regardless of their race, religion, language, or nationality.

We must love them all, even when they do not love us.

***

But let’s zoom in on those neighbors whom we should find easiest to love – our spouse, our children, and our parents.

In a word, our family… Yours and mine.

For many of us, the people whom we live with are our most intimate neighbors, whom we build our lives around and with whom we share our joys and sorrows, successes and failures.

If we are to love anyone the way we love our selves – as the Gospel challenges us to do – then it certainly starts at home.

And loving homes begin with loving couples.

***

Perhaps the most famous loving couple in literary history is Romeo and Juliet. Their love has inspired people for centuries. And, they can still inspire us to love one another today.

How many of us have read the play Romeo and Juliet, perhaps in high school English?

You may remember the scene when Juliet looks down from her balcony upon Romeo and says, “Romeo, the more I give to you, the more I seem to have.” 

***

“The more I give to you…the more I seem to have.”

***

Juliet learned to see the world through Romeo’s eyes to the point that that his happiness led to hers.

That is the strange effect of love.

Love draws us out of our selfish ways; it inspires us to dream our lover’s dreams, to please our lover rather than pleasing ourselves, because the more we give, the more have.

Parents: think of the delight you experience when your children succeed.

Teachers: the joy you experience when your students learn how to read.

Or to all of us: the peace that comes from forgiving a neighbor who’s hurt us…or the satisfaction we find in giving the perfect gift.

***

If Juliet is right, then the more we give to anyone, the happier we become.

Seeing the world through another person’s eyes – regardless of their skin color, religion, or nationality – makes us wiser, more joyful, and compassionate people.

***

The same is true in our relationship with God. The more time we spend in service, the more we study his Word, the more we pray, the happier we become.

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So how do I give my heart to my family, my hands to my neighbors, and my treasure to the poor?

***

How much of myself do I give away to my neighbor? And how much do I keep?

***

This is our invitation as Christians, to love like Juliet.

Or, better said, to love like Jesus, who gave everything for us from the balcony of his Cross. There we see Saint Paul’s words on love lived out concretely.

As Paul tells us, “Love is patient, love is kind… It does not seek its own interests, it does not brood over injury. Love believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. Love never fails.”

In every time and place,  the more we give, the more we have.

I was in New York City recently, where I came across a young lady hunched over, seated on the sidewalk. Her legs were crossed, shoes dirty, and clothes slightly tattered,.

She clutched a wrinkled Dunkin’ Donuts paper cup in one hand and a sign in the other that read: “I’m not a bad person. Just in a bad situation. Please help.”

It was sad to see how many people walked past her, as if she didn’t exist.

Though she was alone, she still had a name, a story, and even a home – perhaps broken and far away. But her life started somewhere, and it certainly wasn’t there.

***

Seeing her reminded me of Bartimaeus, the man who we encounter in today’s Gospel.  He’s blind, homeless, and a beggar.

Just like that girl in New York, people pass him by as if he’s a burden. Or worse, as if he doesn’t exist.

Just look at how the crowds treat him. They try to hush and dismiss him… yet they consider themselves followers of Jesus.

Jesus, on the other hand, listens to him, touches him, and turns his life upside down.

Or, better said, right side up.

***

Two weeks ago, we heard the story of the rich young man. You may remember he ran up to Jesus, knelt before him and said, “Teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life?”

And Jesus, “Looking at him, loved him, and said, ‘You lack one thing. Go, sell what you have and give to the poor. Then, come and follow me.”

But the rich young man, “walked away sad for he had many possessions.”

***

The next person we meet is Bartimaeus. Here he is seated on the roadside begging. His legs are crossed, his head titled upward, his voice crying out for spare change.

He’s wrapped in a tattered wool cloak – by far his most important possession – as it not only serves as a way of collecting coins; it’s also his protection from the sun and a blanket at night.

But when he hears that Jesus is coming, what does Bartimaeus do?

***

In a rush of desperation, he lunges towards Jesus, leaving his cloak – and the coins resting on it – behind.

It seems like a simple gesture, but Bartimaeus has literally parted with everything he owns, something the rich young man just couldn’t do.

He does this because he’s found the pearl of great price, the one thing the rich young man, the crowds, and even the disciples are still searching for…

Faith.

As Jesus tells him, “Your faith has saved you.” And so Bartimaeus gets up and follows Jesus on the way to Jerusalem.

***

That is the final public miracle Jesus performs, a decision he must have made on purpose. So what might he be saying to us?

***

I’d suggest two things.

First, Jesus asks us the same question he asked Bartimaeus, “What do you want me to do for you?” 

That is, what is your deepest desire? What do you want from God?

If we approach Jesus with faith – even faith the size of a mustard seed – then surely he will grant it.

***

But the second point is this – we’re called to make Jesus’ words our own, asking our neighbors that very same question: “What do you want me to do for you?” 

That is, how might I be of service?

The alternative is to act like the crowds in the Gospel, who walked with Jesus, but failed to act like him.

***

Think of that young girl from New York City, whose name was Laura. She really was in a bad situation and needed more help than I could give.

But asking for her name, touching her hand, and offering her a warm meal was a start.

I hoped that chance encounter would in some small way help her to believe in a God who loves her, who often reveals himself in the face of another.

As it has been said, “To love another person is to see the face of God.”

Surely there are others, then, even people in our own lives, who feel like Laura or Bartimaeus – ignored, alone, in need of a friend.

Our call is to ask them the same question that Jesus asks us, “What do you want me to do for you?”

And then do what we can.