What is the “proclamation of the Gospel”?

In Jesus’ public ministry, there is an episode involving a poor widow who deposits two small coins into the temple treasury. Upon seeing this, the Lord drew the disciples’ attention to this offering. He made them understand that the poor widow had contributed more than all the others. Jesus based his judgment on the fact that the others gave from what they had left over; in contrast, the poor widow gave everything she had, all her sustenance. (cf. Mark 12:41-44)

When this passage from Scripture appears in the Church’s liturgy, it is at the end of the period we call Ordinary Time. More specifically, it is proclaimed toward the end of Ordinary Time, when we reflect on the last things: death, judgment, heaven, and hell. The wisdom of this liturgical placement is unquestionable. I would only say that the eschatological lesson is a good starting point for understanding the proclamation of the Gospel.

Many of us remember from our childhood, especially in elementary school, when we were given the so-called mite boxes as a way to keep in mind the Church’s penitential discipline before Easter. It is a shame that these mite boxes are hardly used anymore. They were an excellent way to introduce children to the asceticism of almsgiving, along with a lifelong concern for the poor and the marginalized of society.

The poor widow and the mite boxes remind us that religious faith demands a personal cost. And the economic one is not usually the most burdensome. Much more threatening is the possibility of having to give up certain strategies that we employ mentally and emotionally to deny what is most essential in religious faith: conversion.

On this point, some observations by Fr. Clodovis Boff from this past summer are very revealing. Fr. Boff was once one of the most well-known proponents of liberation theology in Latin America. But he began to have doubts about that theology several years ago. Since then, his reservations have only intensified.

In an open letter to the bishops of Latin America and the Caribbean, he criticized “the same old story: social issues, social issues, and social issues.” This has occurred, he wrote, “for more than fifty years.” Fr. Boff lamented that “the good news about God, Christ, and his Spirit [has not been preached].”

The same, he indicated, occurs with “grace and salvation, the conversion of the heart, prayer, worship, and devotion to Mary, the Mother of God.” All of this has also been set aside.

There is always the temptation of reductionism, not only in Latin America but anywhere the Gospel is proclaimed. Why? Because with the Gospel we always confront mystery. In faith, mystery is what we contemplate. “Manipulating” the mystery only serves to domesticate the Gospel. By manipulating instead of contemplating, we mistakenly think that faith is a tool for solving problems. Contemplating the Gospel is entrusting ourselves to God, without calculating the cost, but making ourselves a gift for the Kingdom.

The beauty of holiness consists in the fact that the saints come from all corners of the world and emerge in every era of history. The circumstances, therefore, are very varied. But what remains constant is the personal desire to serve the Lord in the Kingdom that He inaugurated, although it has not yet been fully realized. The Kingdom is manifested only when God, Christ, and the Holy Spirit are preached, and also when grace, salvation, conversion, prayer, worship, and Marian piety are preached. This is Fr. Boff’s understanding of the Gospel; and it is also that of the Church.

Religious leftism, we must say, resembles political leftism in its constant search and calibration of progress in relation to present things. The Church, however, was not established by Christ to reduce unemployment rates or increase home ownership —however praiseworthy these achievements may be for all the nations of the world. The Church has sought, at all times and places throughout history, to attend to the poor, the dispossessed, and the oppressed.

Jesus did exactly the same in his ministry. In fact, the scene of the judgment we find in St. Matthew (25:31–46) would have to be erased from the Gospel if we thought we could count ourselves among the sheep without practicing the corporal works of mercy. However, faith in Christ is, by no means, of the same order as positions on land ownership, the minimum wage, or many other economic and political issues.

The best way to assist the poor and marginalized is always a matter of prudential judgment. And we certainly need help to arrive at good prudential judgments. It is good, then, to consider the guidance that comes to us from the Dicastery for the Doctrine of the Faith, when it was known as the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith, in a document on “some aspects of liberation theology”.

There we are warned “that we must guard against the politicization of existence which, by misunderstanding the full meaning of the Kingdom of God and the transcendence of the person, begins to sacralize politics and betray the religion of the people”. (1984)

When Jesus pointed out to the disciples that the poor widow who gave a few coins to the treasury gave more than the rich who offered large sums, he was not reinventing mathematics. He was, yes, trying to teach about the Kingdom. When we judge according to the criteria of the Kingdom, disparities are not ipso facto harmful. For by imitating the poor widow’s offering —everything she had— we become truly rich in the eyes of God.

Accepting the Gospel is what makes us righteous before the Lord. Justice is found both among the rich and among the poor. It has everything to do with God, grace, salvation, conversion, prayer, worship, and Marian piety —never with the same old issues. It is there that the novelty of the Kingdom is found.