Two stories come to mind today... from Luke's gospel the story of the elderly widow who put 'all she had' into the Temple treasury and from John's the anointing of Jesus by Mary at Bethany. What about the average woman though, the housewife and mother, the homemaker?

For the purposes of my reflection only, since it's impossible so to do by exegesis, my protagonist is at both events.

So, that was it, I had bought all the special food needed for the festival.  it was a busy time, as well as my own husband and three children, there would his parents and mine, my widowed sister and her two, his unmarried brother, a couple of cousins, oh yes, and my maiden aunt.  A house full!  It has been no small feat saving up for the extras that would have to be bought, carefully balancing my budget, setting aside a few shekels when I could for the extras, whilst paying the Roman taxes and the Temple taxes.  I was proud of my achievements - we owed nothing, we had borrowed nothing, we had paid our dues and had a little left over to make the festival a celebration.

I went to the Temple to make my financial offering, having carefully calculated what could be afforded once everything essential had been paid.  I met an elderly neighbour on her way, too, and we chatted.  I looked away as she slipped her two tiny coins into the treasury. I didn't want her to be embarrassed; and, to be honest, I didn't want to be embarrassed by her either.  Quietly I dropped in my own offering - exactly what I could afford, well after setting aside a few coins for emergencies of course.

That evening we had been invited out to a meal in Bethany where the rabbi Jesus was being honoured.  Carefully I chose which scarf to wear, which trinkets to adorn my wrists.  A tiny dab of perfume, a gift from a time when money was more plentiful.  We set off, hungry for conversation, eager to taste the food!  It was a great evening, wonderful food, flowing wine, lively conversation... and then...  Mary, it was Mary, sister of Martha and Lazarus, breaking open a jar of perfumed oil and pouring the whole lot over Jesus' feet.  What a waste, I thought, just a few drops were all that was needed to tend to his dusty, travelled feet.  'What a waste' a man's voice spoke aloud, 'it could have been sold and the money given to the poor.'  A murmur of agreement spread until Jesus spoke.

In one day then, two women had behaved recklessly and been commended for it.  My elderly neighbour had given her last mite to the Temple, making herself dependent on the generosity of others (note to self: invite her for the festival dinner).  And Mary, had simply poured out a whole bottle of perfume in a rash act of devotion.  I don't understand it, I've always been sensible, never spent more than I had, never borrowed.  I don't understand it, I've always given what was expected of me at the Temple; I've always paid my taxes on time.  I don't understand how foolishness earns approval and wisdom is overlooked.

I wonder how we are like Ms Average, thrifty without being mean, cautious and correct, busy making sure our obligations are met, concerned with balancing the books and not being a burden to anyone.  How do we react to elderly widows who give every penny to charity and then depend on us for help?  How do we feel about rash acts of devotion?  What might we have to learn from the widow and from Mary? 

Dare we imagine ourselves in either scene?  And dare we be honest about our reactions to what we see?