Pentecost 25, Year B: From Scarcity and Sacrifice to Eco-Spiritual Solidarity
By Maki Ashe Van Steenwyk
This week's lectionary readings present a compelling intersection of ecological, economic, and religious themes that speak directly to our contemporary crises of environmental devastation and social inequality. When read through a holistic liberationist lens, these texts challenge both the anthropocentric interpretations that have dominated Christian theology and the individualistic spiritualities that often characterize contemporary religious practice.
The narrative of Elijah and the widow of Zarephath, the eco-justice doxology of Psalm 146, the cosmic implications of Christ's sacrifice in Hebrews, and Jesus' critique of exploitative religious systems in Mark's Gospel collectively suggest that true devotion requires dismantling systems of exploitation rather than celebrating individual sacrifice within them. These texts reveal how religious performance can mask and legitimize systematic violence against both vulnerable populations and ecosystems.
Drawing upon Leonardo Boff's conception of "ecological-social democracy," wherein environmental justice and social liberation are inseparably bound, these readings invite us to recognize how Scripture itself witnesses to the interconnectedness of human oppression and ecological devastation. This recognition is particularly crucial as we face the mounting pressures of late-stage capitalism, which continues to create "sacrifice zones" of both human communities and natural ecosystems.
The texts suggest that attending to those who suffer—both human and more-than-human creation—constitutes an underrecognized form of contemplative prayer. While dominant religious scripts rarely acknowledge solidarity as the heart of spirituality, these readings demonstrate how genuine encounter with suffering opens possibilities for discerning alternatives to the capitalist/extractive systems that are often normalized as inevitable. Through this lens, contemplative practice becomes inseparable from the work of justice, leading us toward what Dorothee Sölle terms a "mysticism of resistance."
By examining these texts together, we discover resources for an eco-spiritual solidarity that challenges both religious and economic systems predicated on artificial scarcity and perpetual sacrifice. This approach reveals how Scripture itself points toward alternative communities of mutual flourishing—communities that embody divine abundance through practices of mutual aid and ecological restoration.
Commentary
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In this text we encounter the intersection of ecological crisis (drought) and economic marginalization.
Elijah had been living by the Wadi Cherith, which is east of the Jordan River. It was a time of drought; the prophet’s food (bread and meat) was delivered morning and night by ravens. Sort of like a mystical DoorDash, I suppose. Yet his water came from a more mundane source: the wadi. A wadi is a ravine or channel that fills with water during rainy seasons. Unfortunately, since a drought was upon the land, the wadi soon dried up.
The scene begins with the word of the Lord coming to the prophet Elijah, telling him to go to Zarephath, where he will be fed by a widow. The prophet obeys and, upon arriving at the town gate, finds the widow gathering sticks—the sort of hard-scrabble resourcefulness poor folks learn in times of trouble.
He asks her for water. And then a “morsel of bread in your hand.” This isn’t an easy request. Elijah is a foreigner—an outsider. She had little to spare, giving one of the most depressing responses in Scripture: “I have nothing baked, only a handful of meal in a jar, and a little oil in a jug; I am now gathering a couple of sticks, so that I may go home and prepare it for myself and my son, that we may eat it, and die.”
I know that we’re about to read some miraculous God-stuff in the next verses. I know that prophets are often perceived as abstract supernatural figures. Nevertheless, it is impossible for me not to assume that Elijah felt like a jerkface for asking a poor widow to give him her last bit of meal and oil instead of giving it to her starving kid.
Of course, a miracle happens. Elijah tells her to make a little cake for him anyways, and then make some for herself and her child. He prophesies that the Lord the God of Israel will not let the jar of meal or jug of oil run out until rain returns. Which is what happened.
The contemporary problem with such stories is that, once miracles enter the narrative, it becomes extremely difficult for us to relate. The story seems to derail into the realm of magic, no longer offering wisdom to us in the real world.
It is important to recognize that her suffering was not an inevitability, however. It isn’t the drought that made her starve. It was the lack of community, solidarity, mutual aid. During a time of drought, those ensnared by the logic of scarcity allowed a widow and her child to starve. In her case, a poor widow without a husband to provide for her in her patriarchal society.
Yet this text refuses to accept such suffering as inevitable. Instead, it points toward divine abundance emerging through solidarity and mutual aid. The miracle occurs not through supernatural intervention alone, but through the creation of an alternative community that resists scarcity ideology.
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This psalm articulates what could be termed an "eco-justice doxology." Its praise of YHWH is inextricably linked to care for the oppressed and the integrity of creation.
Praising YHWH is contrasted with putting trust in princes (verse 3) and reminds us that YHWH is the creator of heaven and earth. YHWH is also the one who executes justice for the oppressed, feeds the hungry, sets the prisoners free, restores sight to the blind, lifts up the lowly, watches over immigrants, and upholds widows and orphans. In contrast, YHWH brings the wicked to ruin (a call back to the princes referenced in verse 3).
The psalm's political end economic vision challenges hierarchical power structures while affirming the way of YWHW expressed through ecological flourishing and social justice.
Again, it is easy to read this psalm in an abstract way, as listing abstract virtues. Insofar as we believe in God, we want to believe in a God who wants good things for folks who are suffering.
However, if we understand worship as an expression of our own deepest values, and understand this psalm as an invitation to be like the One we praise, it, like the story of the widow in Zarephath, is an invitation to reject the politics of oppression and the economics of scarcity to cultivate communities of mutual aid, solidarity, and shared abundance.
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This passage is seemingly focused on christological/sacrificial themes—Jesus removing sin through sacrificing himself. Full disclosure: I have come to despise the way such passages are utilized in dominant forms of Christianity. Nevertheless, I believe a holistic reading resists conventional interpretations of Jesus-as-Blood-Sacrifice.
A holistic reading opens up profound possibilities for ecological liberation when we consider how sacrificial systems have historically justified the exploitation of both human bodies and the natural world. When the author emphasizes Christ's "once for all" sacrifice, they point toward the end of an entire logic of extraction and destruction that continues to shape our relationship with creation.
Religious systems (including our modern Cult of Supremacist Accumulation) that are built around perpetual sacrifice require constant extraction—whether of animal bodies, agricultural products, or human labor. These systems create artificial scarcity through the continual demand for more resources to maintain sacrificial practices. This pattern persists in contemporary capitalist systems that treat both human communities and ecosystems as sacrificial zones—areas deemed acceptable to destroy for the "greater good" of economic growth.
The text suggests a radical alternative: Christ's sacrifice interrupts this logic of endless extraction. By entering "heaven itself" rather than a human-made sanctuary, Christ's action points toward liberation that encompasses the entire cosmos, not just human souls. This cosmic scope challenges the artificial separation of sacred and secular that often relegates environmental concerns to something outside of our spirituality.
The eschatological framing—appearing "once for all at the end of the age”—provides hope for ecological restoration while demanding present action. Rather than justifying environmental destruction through appeals to future supernatural intervention, this temporal framing calls us to participate now in God’s redemptive work throughout creation.
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The Gospel reading presents a sophisticated critique of how religious-economic systems maintain hegemony through religious performances. Jesus exposes how the scribes' performances of piety—their posh clothing, strategic social positioning, and conspicuous prayers—function as religious normalization of exploitation. Their occupation of prominent spaces in both religious (synagogue) and economic (market) spheres reveals how sacred and secular power structures mutually reinforce each other.
Jesus' warning about those who 'devour widows' houses' while 'reciting long prayers' illuminates how religious performance can mask and sanctify economic violence. Contemporary examples abound: prosperity gospel preachers living in mansions while their congregants struggle with poverty; religious institutions investing in fossil fuels while offering prayers about climate change; churches gentrifying neighborhoods while preaching about helping the poor. These modern scribes continue to legitimate systemic exploitation through religious performance.
This dynamic particularly manifests in what Rob Nixon calls 'sacrifice zones' - areas deemed acceptable casualties of ecological and economic exploitation. Consider Louisiana's 'Cancer Alley,' where predominantly Black and low-income communities bear devastating health impacts from industrial pollution, often while local religious institutions offer charity but refuse to challenge the structural violence. Or consider Appalachian communities where mountain-top removal mining destroys both ecosystems and human health while regional religious leaders frame such destruction as divine providence.
Just as contemporary environmental degradation disproportionately affects poor communities while benefiting elite consumers, the scribes maintain their privileged position through systematic exploitation of the vulnerable. Both corporate “greenwashing” and conventional Christian approaches to spirituality that focus on individual practice and piety, minimize material concerns and obscure the nature of the problem.
The widow in this passage is caught within an exploitative temple system that demands she give 'all she had to live on.' This raises sharp questions about systems that praise sacrificial giving while failing to address structural violence. Traditional interpretations have often celebrated this widow's self-sacrifice, transforming her exploitation into a model of devotion. This reading exemplifies how mainstream Christianity has enshrined self-abnegation as a spiritual virtue, particularly for society's most vulnerable members.
It is all-too-common for religious systems produce to malform us into people who understand our own diminishment as divine calling. Examples abound:
Prosperity gospel preachers framing tithing beyond one’s means as “seed faith”
Progressive Christian appeals to ‘voluntary poverty’ that ignore involuntary impoverishment
Spiritual formation models that emphasize individual renunciation while leaving wealth accumulation unchallenged
Environmental teachings that call for personal lifestyle changes while ignoring (or even benefiting from) corporate extraction
Gender expectations that particularly burden women with demands for selfless service
The valorization of sacrificial suffering serves power in multiple ways: it sanctifies economic exploitation, dampens resistance to injustice, and transforms systemic violence into opportunities for 'spiritual growth.' As Dorothee Sölle argues in Beyond Mere Obedience, such theology replaces liberation with a dangerous form of spiritual masochism that sacralizes powerlessness.
The temple system's exploitation of the widow parallels contemporary religious institutions that praise sacrificial giving from the poor while maintaining comfortable alliances with wealth and power. Just as the scribes 'devoured widows' houses,' today's religious systems often extract resources from vulnerable communities while offering spiritual platitudes about the nobility of sacrifice.
A liberative reading must instead recognize this text as Jesus' indictment of systems that demand sacrifice from those who have already been systematically impoverished. This shifts our focus from celebrating the widow's self-abnegation to examining how religious and economic structures collaborate to exploit vulnerable populations while maintaining moral legitimacy through the language of sacrifice."
The Gospel passage for this week calls us to examine how religious performance can mask systemic exploitation of both vulnerable populations and ecosystems. The Spirit of Jesus calls us to imagine alternative communities of mutual flourishing rather than celebrating sacrifice within systems of death. Anything else violates the heart of Jesus’ Gospel. If sacrifice is required, such communities of pious exploitation should sacrifice their ill-gotten wealth in service to the oppressed.
Teaching and Preaching Ideas
From Scarcity to Solidarity: Reimagining Religious Economy
The widow narratives expose how religious institutions often perpetuate and sanctify systems of exploitation and artificially-imposed scarcity. The psalm's vision of divine justice starkly contrasts with the "way of princes"—accumulation, exploitation, and the production of poverty. The question isn't whether there are enough resources, but how those resources are distributed and controlled. Religious communities face a choice: continue participating in systems of extraction or cultivate alternative economies of mutual aid through community gardens, resource sharing, and collective resistance to gentrification and displacement. The spirituality of empire demands sacrifice from those who have the least. The Spirit of Liberation invites us into practices of solidarity and collective flourishing.
Beyond Sacrifice: Disrupting the Theology of Self-Negation
Traditional interpretations of these texts often celebrate self-sacrifice, transforming exploitation into a model of devotion. Jesus' "once for all" sacrifice in Hebrews fundamentally challenges systems that require endless extraction—whether of bodies, labor, or natural resources. Just as the temple system demanded the widow's last coins, contemporary Christian spirituality often sanctifies the diminishment of the marginalized while leaving systems of accumulation unchallenged. Religious communities must examine how they perpetuate what Dorothee Sölle calls "spiritualized masochism" through:
Praise of sacrificial giving while ignoring systemic impoverishment
Appeals to "voluntary poverty" that ignore involuntary deprivation
Environmental teachings that emphasize individual renunciation while ignoring corporate extraction
Gender expectations that burden women with demands for selfless service
Contemplative Resistance: Finding the Spirit in the Struggle
Attending to suffering—both human and ecological—is itself a form of prayer that leads to transformative action. The widow narratives alongside Psalm 146 challenge dominant models of spirituality that separate contemplation from justice work. Where the scribes perform piety while devouring widows' houses, true contemplation leads us to stand with those being devoured. This reframes "spirituality" away from individualistic practices toward collective liberation. Religious communities are invited to develop:
Contemplative listening circles where communities affected by environmental racism and economic exploitation can share their stories
Regular practices of ecological lament that name and grieve environmental devastation
Prophetic prayer walks through areas experiencing ecological/economic violence
Spaces for processing collective trauma and cultivating resilient resistance
Dangerous Memory: Reclaiming Religious Resistance
The Gospel's critique of religious performance invites us to examine how our own spiritual practices may mask complicity with systemic violence. Rather than celebrating the widow's self-abnegation, we must recover what Johann Baptist Metz calls "dangerous memories" of resistance within our traditions. This involves:
Excavating histories of religious communities that chose solidarity over empire
Examining how our theologies have sanctified exploitation
Developing practices that nurture collective resistance rather than individual renunciation
Creating liturgies that celebrate abundance rather than sacrifice
Building communities of mutual aid that prefigure alternatives to extractive capitalism
Sources and Resources
Books:
Boff, Leonardo. "Cry of the Earth, Cry of the Poor" (1997)
Holmes, Barbara. "Crisis Contemplation: Healing the Wounded Village" (2021)
Horsley, Richard. "Jesus and Empire: The Kingdom of God and the New World Disorder" (2002)
Jenkins, Willis. "The Future of Ethics: Sustainability, Social Justice, and Religious Creativity" (2013)
Keller, Catherine. "Political Theology of the Earth: Our Planetary Emergency and the Struggle for a New Public" (2018)
Metz, Johann Baptist. “Faith in History and Society: Toward a Practical Fundamental Theology” (2007)
Nixon, Rob. "Slow Violence and the Environmentalism of the Poor" (2011)
Sölle, Dorothee. “Beyond Mere Obedience” (1982)
Sölle, Dorothee. "The Silent Cry: Mysticism and Resistance" (2001)
Articles:
James Cone, "Whose Earth Is It, Anyway?" in Christianity and Crisis
Joerg Rieger, "Jesus, Empire and Global Capitalism" (2017)
Kwok Pui-lan, "Ecology and the Recycling of Christianity" (2012)
Contributor bio
Maki Ashe Van Steenwyk is the co-founder of the Center for Prophetic Imagination. She is a writer, teacher, organizer, and spiritual director. Ashe is the author of That Holy Anarchist, unKingdom, and A Wolf at the Gate. She is currently completing a doctoral dissertation on socio-spiritual discernment at United Theological Seminary.
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Image: Wall of Forgotten Natives, 2018. (Photo: Hennepin County)
Description: An outdoor encampment of the unhoused in winter shows a row of tents and shelters along a snowy path. Multiple tents in blue, green, and white, including a teepee structure, are set up next to a large building. People in winter clothing and a child on a toy vehicle are visible at sunset.