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Commentary on the Gospel – November 24, 2025
Small Change Matters
When we’re about to give or pay something—whether it’s money, time, or effort—we usually make a kind of internal budget. Will we have enough left for everything else we need to do? Does this fit into our plan, alongside the things that bring us personal benefit? Normally, we don’t give “recklessly.”
So when we look at this widow in the Gospel, who really does seem to give recklessly, we might be tempted to form different interpretations—some of them a bit cynical. Does she give because she’s careless or not very forward-thinking? Does she give because this might be the last thing she does before dying and she no longer cares? Or does she give her two small coins—the only thing she likely had—hoping God will pity her and bless her with more?
Since the Gospel doesn’t explain it, let’s simply stay with the idea that she gives out of pure generosity and love. And that must be the right interpretation, because Jesus praises her.
Each of us can be that widow, in all her variations. And we always have to look at our own motivations. The highest motivation—the one rooted in pure generosity—is the noblest, the one we probably wish we had all the time. But it’s not always the case.
Maybe the more important question is: What are our two small coins?
What do we have—material things, talents, or time—that we want or need to take care of responsibly? What are the things we tend to hold onto the most? How should we budget our time, money, and abilities? What can we “trade with”? What do we think is useless and therefore discardable?
Maybe if we really looked closely at our two coins, we’d realize we have far more than just two—some necessary, some not so much. But the call remains the same: to give until the very end—not only what we don’t need, not only the small change, but even the last drop.
Today’s Gospel is often paired in the Lectionary with the story of Elijah’s widow, who gave her last bit of oil and flour as an act of ultimate surrender before dying. But she didn’t die. The bread multiplied.
Whenever we look honestly and sincerely, we will see that what we have given—sometimes with effort, and fearing we’ll lose everything—comes back to us multiplied. And then giving again becomes a joyful experience, strengthened by the certainty of so much grace and life poured out upon us.