**The Story of the Widow’s Mite and the Teachings in the Temple**
The sun hung high over Jerusalem, casting golden rays upon the bustling streets and the towering walls of the Temple. The air was thick with the scent of incense and the murmur of prayers. Jesus had entered the Temple courts, and as He walked among the colonnades, the people gathered around Him, eager to hear His words. The religious leaders—Pharisees, Sadducees, and scribes—watched Him closely, their eyes narrowed with suspicion and envy. They sought to trap Him in His words, to find some fault they could use to discredit Him before the people.
The first to approach were the Pharisees and Herodians, their robes flowing with calculated elegance. They stepped forward with feigned respect, their voices dripping with false humility. “Teacher,” they began, “we know that You are true and do not care about anyone’s opinion. For You are not swayed by appearances, but truly teach the way of God. Is it lawful to pay taxes to Caesar, or not? Should we pay them, or should we not?”
Jesus, perceiving their hypocrisy, fixed them with a penetrating gaze. His eyes seemed to pierce through their carefully constructed masks, seeing the deceit in their hearts. “Why do you test Me?” He asked. “Bring Me a denarius, that I may see it.”
One of them quickly produced a coin and handed it to Him. Jesus held it up, the silver glinting in the sunlight. “Whose likeness and inscription is this?” He asked.
“Caesar’s,” they replied, their voices hesitant.
“Render to Caesar the things that are Caesar’s,” Jesus said, His voice calm but firm, “and to God the things that are God’s.”
The crowd murmured in amazement at His wisdom, and the Pharisees and Herodians, finding no fault in His answer, withdrew in frustration.
Next came the Sadducees, their faces smug with confidence. They did not believe in the resurrection of the dead, and they thought they could stump Jesus with a clever question. “Teacher,” they said, “Moses wrote for us that if a man’s brother dies and leaves a wife but no children, the man must take the widow and raise up offspring for his brother. Now there were seven brothers. The first took a wife, and when he died, he left no offspring. And the second took her, and he died, leaving no offspring. And the third likewise. And the seven left no offspring. Last of all, the woman died also. In the resurrection, when they rise again, whose wife will she be? For the seven had her as wife.”
Jesus looked at them, His expression a mixture of sorrow and rebuke. “Is this not the reason you are wrong,” He said, “because you know neither the Scriptures nor the power of God? For when they rise from the dead, they neither marry nor are given in marriage, but are like angels in heaven. And as for the dead being raised, have you not read in the book of Moses, in the passage about the bush, how God spoke to him, saying, ‘I am the God of Abraham, and the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob’? He is not God of the dead, but of the living. You are quite wrong.”
The Sadducees, silenced and humiliated, stepped back, their arguments crumbling like dust.
Then a scribe, who had been listening intently, stepped forward. Unlike the others, there was a genuine curiosity in his eyes. “Teacher,” he said, “which commandment is the most important of all?”
Jesus answered, “The most important is, ‘Hear, O Israel: The Lord our God, the Lord is one. And you shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind and with all your strength.’ The second is this: ‘You shall love your neighbor as yourself.’ There is no other commandment greater than these.”
The scribe nodded thoughtfully. “You are right, Teacher,” he said. “You have truly said that He is one, and there is no other besides Him. And to love Him with all the heart and with all the understanding and with all the strength, and to love one’s neighbor as oneself, is much more than all whole burnt offerings and sacrifices.”
Jesus, seeing that the scribe had answered wisely, said to him, “You are not far from the kingdom of God.”
After this, no one dared to ask Him any more questions. Jesus, standing in the Temple, began to teach the people. “How can the scribes say that the Christ is the son of David?” He asked. “David himself, in the Holy Spirit, declared, ‘The Lord said to my Lord, “Sit at My right hand, until I put Your enemies under Your feet.”’ David himself calls Him Lord. So how is He his son?”
The crowd listened in rapt attention, marveling at His teaching.
As Jesus continued to teach, He sat down opposite the treasury and watched the people putting money into the offering box. Many rich people came and put in large sums, their coins clinking loudly as they fell into the box. Then a poor widow came, her face lined with hardship, her hands calloused from years of labor. She hesitated for a moment, then dropped in two small copper coins, worth only a fraction of a penny.
Jesus called His disciples to Him and said, “Truly, I say to you, this poor widow has put in more than all those who are contributing to the offering box. For they all contributed out of their abundance, but she out of her poverty has put in everything she had, all she had to live on.”
The disciples looked at the widow with new eyes, understanding the depth of her sacrifice. Jesus’ words lingered in the air, a powerful reminder that true giving is measured not by the amount, but by the heart behind it.
As the sun began to set, casting long shadows across the Temple courts, Jesus rose and left the Temple, His heart heavy with the knowledge of what was to come. Yet even in the face of opposition and betrayal, He continued to teach the way of love, sacrifice, and devotion to God—a message that would echo through the ages, transforming hearts and lives forever.
