What little we have to give

The other day I was in a meeting at work. We were introducing ourselves to a group of people visiting from outside our organization. When it was time for one of my coworkers to introduce himself, he mentioned he had just started working there recently.

The person leading the meeting laughed. He dismissed my new colleague as having nothing to offer. Twice more during the meeting he made a point of singling that colleague out in a way that showed he believed his presence in that space brought no value.

I don’t think that he meant to be unkind, but I was frustrated. My colleague’s presence had value. His insights were worth hearing. The conversation would have been enriched by hearing his perspective—but we didn’t have that chance. The person leading the meeting will never know what he missed out on.

We always have something to give. Even when others don’t see it. Even when we might not see it ourselves. We always, always have something to bring to the table—and it’s often extremely valuable.

I’ve been thinking of this as I’ve reflected on the Gospel from Sunday, thinking of the two small coins the widow drops into the treasury. Her contribution is worth more than all of the others, Jesus tells us. What an important reminder for us not to underestimate what a person can offer.

That Gospel reading might be about money and giving to the Church. But I think perhaps Jesus wants us to think more broadly—not just about money, but about what we can give when we feel we have nothing left.

We might be exhausted. We might be mentally and physically drained. We might barely be able to drag ourselves out of bed in the morning. But we still have something to share. It might not feel like much. Maybe it’s doing the smallest task done for a child or a pet or our spouse. Maybe it’s a kind word for someone—a text to someone who’s lonely or a quick call to someone who will be thrilled to hear from us. Maybe it’s just a whisper of a prayer—for hope for a friend, for peace for the world, for the strength to pick up and carry on.

Whatever it is, I believe each of us can bring a little light to the darkness, because small efforts have impact. In fact, I would argue that they’re not small at all. And I believe the person with the two coins makes an extraordinary difference.

We all have days when we feel we have nothing left to give. We all have times when what we can offer feels meager. But Jesus asks us to show up, to drop what we can in the treasury. He also invites us to give ourselves some grace—and to see our offering, whatever it is, as worthy, as valuable.

Don’t get me wrong. Jesus asks for everything from us—our whole heart, our whole soul, and our whole mind. But he loves us so completely, so infinitely, and with such mercy, that I believe he recognizes that sometimes we feel that we have very little left to give. He loves us, and he must see that whatever we share is an extraordinary gift.

“Give something, however small, to the one in need,” said St. Gregory Naziansen. “For it is not small to one who has nothing. Neither is it small to God, if we have given what we could.”

Like a child running to his mother with a crushed dandelion in hand, we give what we can within our abilities, within whatever we have to offer in this moment. And we give it for God. Others may do more, but we do what we can with the gifts we have. And that is more than enough. It is tremendous. And it is seen.

Copyright © 2024 Catholic Review Media

 Print