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OPINION

Pure Religion: Widows, Orphans, and the Christmas Call to Care

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AP Photo/David Eggert

Religion that is pure and undefiled before God the Father is this: to care for orphans and widows. 

— James 1:27

Christmas often stirs our hearts with images of the Nativity—Mary, Joseph, and the Baby Jesus surrounded by the humble charm of shepherds, animals, and a glowing star. Yet, amid the celebration of joy and wonder, there’s a deeper truth woven into the story: the vulnerability of the Christ Child and His family. Jesus, born in a manger, embodies God’s care for the helpless.

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For me, the biblical verse in the epigraph carries a deeply personal resonance. Having elderly loved ones with dementia, I have witnessed the isolation and vulnerability it creates—how it strips away independence and leaves a person profoundly in need of care and compassion. This personal experience has made James’s words leap off the page to offer a reminder of what true religion demands of us.

In the first-century world, widows were among the most vulnerable segments of the population. The Koine Greek term chēra, used in James 1:27, refers to women who had lost their husbands and, with them, their primary source of support. In an age without social safety nets, widows were often left destitute and marginalized, reliant on the mercy of their community.

James invokes widows alongside orphans, not merely to define narrow categories but to emphasize the broader ethic of care central to the Gospel. This care is rooted in the character of God, who is described as a “father to the fatherless and protector of widows” (Psalm 68:5). Neglecting such vulnerable groups, according to Scripture, was not just a moral failing—it was against God’s wishes.

The term “widow” in James 1:27 transcends its literal meaning. While it primarily refers to women whose husbands have died, it also represents anyone left without support or advocacy. In ancient times, widows were often elderly and isolated, a plight that resonates today with the growing number of seniors facing dementia or chronic illness.

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Having loved ones in a daily struggle has given me a deeper appreciation of the widow’s vulnerability. Dementia strips away not only memory but independence and personal dignity, leaving individuals reliant on others for even the most basic of needs. In this sense, those with dementia are modern “widows,” embodying the same helplessness James urges us to address.

The call to care for widows today extends to all who are marginalized—single mothers, the elderly, the chronically ill. By recognizing their needs, we fulfill the spirit of James’s command and honor the Gospel’s call to action, which the early church understood. In Acts 6:1–6, the Apostles established a ministry to ensure that widows were not neglected, demonstrating that true religion required action.

For the modern Church, this call remains vital. Caring for widows, in today’s terms, means creating ministries for the elderly, supporting families dealing with dementia, and advocating for those who are often invisible in society. Practical care—visits, advocacy, and sustained involvement—reflects the essence of the words of James.

As we gather around Nativity scenes this Christmas, let us remember the hidden lesson in the story: God’s care for the vulnerable. The Baby Jesus, dependent on His mother and father, reflects every orphan, widow, and marginalized soul in need of love and protection. James 1:27 reminds us that true religion is not about rituals or appearances, but about compassionate care for those in distress. This Christmas, let us look beyond the charm of the season and embrace its challenge. The widow, the orphan, and the Christ Child call to us.

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This verse from James and the Nativity story remind me that Christmas is not just a celebration—it is a mission. As I care for my loved ones with dementia, I see glimpses of God’s heart in the smallest acts of compassion and shared time, and I am reminded, once again, that pure religion begins not with words but with love in action.

In Loving Memory of Cecelia Cincotta
May She Rest in Peace.

"Her strength and care continue to inspire all who knew her."

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