Written by J.P. O’Connor, Ph.D.
The image of the Thanksgiving meal illustrates for some of us the growing social tensions in our world. Political violence has seen a dramatic uptick in recent years.[1] As inflation continues to worm its way into our pocketbooks, views about how the world ought to be run may tear at the seams of family structures. To make matters worse, research indicates that the mere presence of a smart phone on a table erodes even the possibility of authentic engagement.[2] How do we have honest conversations about matters over which we disagree? The idea of sitting down and enjoying a meal together, for some, may seem a bit too much to stomach this year.
For those of us able to host a Thanksgiving meal, I wonder what would happen if we shifted our focus toward the people in attendance. Who should be at our table this year? What are their stories? Among the variety of reasons families and friends get together in late November, surely one ought to be to listen to the overlooked voices in our midst.
Mark and Minor Characters
Mark’s Gospel often gives attention to minor characters; fringe figures who are otherwise ignored or forgotten. If we imagine Mark as a live performance, the character on center stage would be Jesus, who in turn directs our attention to God. As the spotlight follows Jesus from Galilee to Jerusalem, the place of his death, the viewer will notice that he often shares the spotlight with characters found in the shadows. Mark draws our attention to people whom we may otherwise overlook. We marvel as Jesus’s irresistible call pulls these fringe characters into the spotlight often over-and-against society’s more talented showstoppers. One of these figures in Mark is a poor widow with a generous heart (Mark 12:41-44).
Mark’s prelude to this widow is a brief denouncement of the scribes. According to the Evangelist, the scribes puff-out their chests and demand respect from the masses in the market place (12:38-40). They are society’s elite—people who have hoarded social power to build an empire for themselves at the cost of erasing figures much like this lowly widow. This is not the first time Jesus has condemned this elite posse either (1:22; 2:6, 16; 3:22; 7:1; 9:14); in fact, these are among the very troublemakers Jesus said would reject him (8:31; 10:33).
The main offense in the present scene, according to Jesus, is that they “eat up” the houses of widows. They fatten themselves off the poverty of others. On the heels of Jesus’s criticism of those overly pious keepers of the temple, a poor widow appears. Jesus, in the meantime, sits near the temple treasury, watching from afar (12:41). As readers, we share his view of the story, eager to see who puts how much into the temple funds. Imagine for a moment the theatrics involved in public donations. The elite who put in large sums of money are greeted with cheery eyed smiles and shouts of praise, as they turn around to the gathered crowd. Others, with less money, are at best ignored and at worst silently judged. After some hefty donations, the widow deposits two small coins, the lowest denomination available at the time. Breaking from the silent gawks of the crowd, Jesus calls over his disciples and says, “Truly I tell you, this poor widow has put in more than all those who are contributing to the treasury” (NRSV).
It is the widow and her donation that Jesus lauds. Immediately after this episode, Jesus predicts the fateful end to the temple (13:1-23). The irony is that the widow’s coins were cast into a system that would not last.
The Ethics of a Table
This story’s complexity is one worth sitting with as we plan our Thanksgiving meals. Jesus’s attention to this widow as well as to her gift demonstrates an important lesson for the ethics of God’s kingdom. On the one hand, Jesus, quite uncomfortably, demands everything from his followers. As followers of Jesus, we continually divest ourselves from the powers of this world, the institutions of money and power—this is one lesson we learn from the widow. Like her, we are called to give God everything we have. On the other hand, that lesson should not leave us satisfied with regard to how the widow is treated. The story quickly moves on, not assuaging our craving for justice for the widow and her money. We want to hear more of her story!
It is in this moment that we must pause and take up the mantle of Mark’s Gospel. Jesus highlights for us the power dynamics in the kingdom of God by leveling a harsh critique against the scribes, representative of society’s elite. He characteristically forces the reader’s attention to the impoverished widow and locates God’s power in her story. If we couple this scene with the temple’s coming destruction, in the very next chapter and verse (13:1), we see how the widow’s act of faith topples the powers oppressing her. The widow remains, while the institution oppressing her does not. More so, we find that the power is not in her investment, but in the God who infinitely invests in her. This God has a vested interest in the powerless according to Mark (7:24-30; 10:13-16; 14:3-9), the pinnacle of which is a crucified Jesus (15:21-32).
Mark’s little vignette requires us to think critically about which stories we choose to center at our respective Thanksgiving tables. To whom are we listening? Who is in attendance? We must turn our own attention, as Mark’s Gospel encourages us, to these same “minor” characters and to their stories. Mark teaches us that they are the people in whom God chooses to invest.
Returning to my initial suggestion, I wonder if those of us hosting meals this year ought to mimic Jesus by sharing our table with others. Instead of spotlighting our own needs this year, how can we hear the story of someone else? The woes of inflation, for example, hit each family differently depending on whose story we hear.[3] It may not be a literal widow who joins you for a meal this year, but perhaps someone who has long been hurt by the dehumanizing forces in this world shows up. Listen to their story. God may unravel our own expectations as we hear from someone who has been unfairly subjected to the powers at work in this world.
