.jpg)
On April 23, 1910, the then former president of the United States Theodore Roosevelt, delivered a speech at the Sorbonne in France that was formally titled “Citizenship in a Republic” but later became known as the “Man in the Arena.” The language is dated. Now we, and probably Roosevelt too, would have used more inclusive pronouns, but I’m going to stick to President Roosevelt’s original words because to change anything ruins the cadence.
Here is what Roosevelt said:
"It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly...”1
Everyone who stands for elected office enters into an arena where he or she much give it all. From those who ran for President, for the Senate, or the House, to a friend of mine who ran for a seat on the Palm Springs City Council and fell 149 votes short dared greatly and gave it all they had.2
Two, not surprisingly unnamed women, both widows with very little wear-with-all of their own give all they had and then some.
The first woman we meet is out gathering sticks for her last meal and the prophet speaks to her in the same, almost dismissive way that men have spoken to women for ages. She doesn’t even rise to the level of waitress, she is his servant who, even though she doesn’t know him, is supposed to do his bidding, cater to his every need.
Many translations try to soften the prophet’s approach with a little “please” and “thank you” but this time scholars tell us that there are no niceties just two direct orders. “Bring me a little water in a vessel, so that I may drink.” And then as she heads off to get that for him he adds to his order, “Bring me a morsel of bread in your hand.”3
Believe me when I tell you had Elijah been dumb enough to say this to my aunt when she wasn’t in the best of moods, she would have responded to his request, as she often did to her brothers or me when they were treating her like they hadn’t read “The Emancipation Proclamation,” which she would suggest we do and follow that with a question of her own: “What did you do break your leg?” So, if the prophet didn’t get up and get it for himself, if he was dealing with my aunt he would have most certainly died of thirst.
The widow who is dutifully doing Elijah’s bidding tells her self-assured customer that her provisions are meagre. So meagre in fact, that it looks like this meal with be her last.
Here is a woman who is raising a child without a husband, without a safety net and she is doing it in a time of famine and drought. Raising a child requires countless acts of trust and many prayers. She is certainly someone who has been in Roosevelt’s arena and is at this moment in her life daring greatly.
Because, as Heidi Neumark pointed out in a Christian Century article:
Here is a woman about to die with her child, a mother unable to feed her little boy, who still manages to love her neighbour as herself. Yes, Elijah predicts the miracle, but she is the one who sets the miracle in motion by her trust and risky generosity.4
Perhaps Jesus had her in mind when he watched another woman cross the temple courtyard wading her way quietly through all the pomp and show of those who just can wait to parade their piety and their generosity before others. These are not just religious leaders of Jesus’ day but any who proclaim their faith so loudly that they become “full of themselves.”
The image passed down through the ages is that the “temple was outfitted with trumpet-shaped offering boxes so that when people ‘threw’ in their coins, the clanging announced loudly the generosity of the giver. It’s hard not to think of Luther’s annoyance at Tetzel and the sale of indulgences: ‘When the coin in the coffer rings, the soul from purgatory springs.’”5
So this woman catches Jesus eye and he calls us all together for a teaching moment that has very little to do with stewardship (Though, God knows, we have all heard enough sermons in our lifetimes that bounce the text in that direction) but much more to do with faithfulness.
Once again, let’s let one of my favourite writers, Debi Thomas, help us dig a little deeper and see what’s going on with this woman living on the margins of society who is not only impoverished but vulnerable in every single way that can be imagined.
This is a moment in the story when I'd give anything to hear Jesus' tone of voice, and to see the expression on his face. Is he heartbroken as he tells his disciples to peel their eyes away from the rich folks and glance in her direction instead? Is he outraged? Is he resigned? Does he tell one of his friends to run after the woman and give her a bit of bread, or at least a drink of water? What does it mean to Jesus, mere seconds after he's described the Temple leaders as devourers of widows' houses, to witness just such a widow being devoured? And worse, participating in her own devouring?
I think he noticed the widow's courage. I imagine it took quite a bit of courage for her to make her “insignificant” gift alongside the rich with their fistfuls of coins. Even more to allow the last scraps of her security to fall out of her palms.
I think Jesus noticed her dignity. Surely, she had to steel herself when widowhood rendered her worthless — a person marked "expendable" even by the Temple she loved. Surely she had to trust — in the face of all the evidence piled up around her — that her tiny gift had value in God's eyes.
Perhaps what Jesus noticed was kinship. Her story mirroring his. The widow gave everything she had to serve a world so broken... Days later, Jesus gave everything he had to redeem, restore, and renew that very same world.6
Both widows had more than enough courage to go into the arena and give it all they had. And we worship a Saviour who gave it all he had too.
That is what Jesus is asking of us. To enter into the arena and give it all. We may find ourselves on some days battered, and bruised, and perhaps even sorely disappointed. We may “come up short again and again” but we continue to try and make the world a little better one cup of water, one morsel of bread, one small offering of our life and labour, at a time.
As David L. Brooks wrote in a recent article in The Atlantic, “we are either degrading our souls or elevating our souls with every little thing we do.”
It may not seem like much but, in the end, all those little things we do for the good just might be enough.
_______________
1. Theodore Roosevelt, “Citizenship in a Republic” speech delivered at Sorbourn University, Paris, France. 23 April 1910. https://www.theodorerooseveltcenter.org/Blog/Item/The%20Man%20in%20the%20Arena
2. Eric Gray, “Latest Local Election Results District 4 - Naomi Soto Wins,” Latest Local Election Results District 4 - Naomi Soto Wins -, November 8, 2024, https://pstribune.com/2024/11/08/latest-local-election-results-district-4-naomi-soto-wins/.
3. 1 Kings 17:10c & 11b. (NRSV) [NRSV=The New Revised Standard Version Updated Edition]
4. Heidi Neumark, “The Widow’s Hand,” The Christian Century, September 27, 2000, https://www.christiancentury.org/article/widow-s-hand?code=SUYJEA1d6bG6QvdNvFnZ&
No comments:
Post a Comment