Sacrifice and Stewardship

One of the many privileges that I enjoyed through my attendance at General Convention this past summer was the opportunity to attend the daily Eucharist with my felolow attendees, to hear and sing wonderful and diverse music, and especially to hear some outstanding preachers--including both our Presiding Bishop and the Archbishop of Canterbury. However, one of the most impressive preachers was not a clergyperson at all, but a layman--Ray Suarez (of Newshour fame). At General Convention he preached a sermon which could best be summarized as "we should not apologize for who we are as Episcopalians!"

Once again, Mr. Suarez steps to the microphone, stands behind a pulpit, and delivers words that we need to hear:



After talking very much about the world we live in and the legacy we have inherited, Suarez ends with this: "...all that we have is gift. The question now is: What will you do with your share?"

As the economy slowly and painfully recovers and as the spirit of fear and doubt continues to pleague both church and world, it might be a good spiritual exercise to think about what God would have us do with "our share" of the gifts God has given to us. Do we use them as a buffer against possible calamity, an insulator against a cold breeze, or do we offer them freely to others as God has freely to us? Something to think about...

Borrowing and the Economy

Neither a borrower nor a lender be,
For loan oft loses both itself and friend,
And borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry.
Hamlet Act 1, scene 3, 75–77

The rich rule over the poor, and the borrower is servant to the lender.
Proverbs 22:7

I've been thinking about earning money, spending money, and borrowing money for several months now. Not the actual act of doing those things (which I do all the time), but the fact that while it is comparatively difficult to earn money, borrowing and spending it take a mere few mouse clicks. In fact, I can spend literally thousands of dollars, either borrowing it off a credit card or (if I have enough) pulling it directly from my bank account at places like Amazon, eBay, or any one of thousands of online vendors. Even if I have to go to a retail location, a swipe and several keystrokes get me my product and deprive me of a certain number of hard-earned dollars. Heck, even churches can get into the act, with both online donations and even giving kiosks right in the church building!

What is interesting to me is that our entire economy is dependent on such instant gratification and the ability to transfer money in seconds. The "just in time" method of inventory control has now morphed into the "get it now" method of consumerism. Recall that what former President Bush did shortly after September 11, 2001 was not to call us as a nation mobilize for war, but to call us as a nation to shop, shop, shop and otherwise go on with our lives as if nothing had happened. When that adrenalin-jacked up economy finally collapsed late last year, the collapse was huge, in part, because people could instantly move money away from investments that people were newly unsure of and partly because the ability to borrow money was slowed to a crawl.

What's the solution? Well, part of it is what we are seeing now--increasing savings and decreasing spending. Increasing savings frees us from the dependence on borrowing to sustain our chosen lifestyle, both forcing us to live within our means and also helping us to serve God rather than being a "servant to the lender." This is obviously easier said than done--as I've already noted, it is very much easier to spend money than it is to either earn it or save it. So, perhaps as we enter what we in the church euphemistically refer to as "stewardship season" it would be well to reflect not only on what our spending says about our priorities, but exactly how we go about doing that spending says. Do we save for what we need and consider ourselves rich (which, in comparison to the rest of the world, is what we are) or do we constantly long for what we don't have and willingly subjugate ourselves to the Visa or MasterCard gods? Something to think about, especially before the holidays...

Relationaships and Resources

I just returned from a meeting of our Convocation (Deanery) at which we spent more than an hour going through and discussing the diocesan budget draft. About as enjoyable as root canal surgery but without the numbing drugs. I have had similarly long and less-than-pleasant discussions at our Bishop's Advisory Committee (Vestry) meetings. There always seems to be a sense in which we are running around plugging leaks in a boat and there are more leaks than we have hands or other means of plugging them. That culture of scarcity, that sense that there is never enough, it pervasive throughout the modern church, at least in my experience.

As I thought about those conversations, I reflected that really what these conversations are about is not our resources (time, money, energy, etc...) but our relationships. Budget problems are a symptom, not the disease. The disease is a breakdown of relationship. In the case of a diocesan budget, it is the relationship between the diocese as a whole and its individual missions and parishes. In the case of a congregation, it is a breadown in relationship between the members of the congregation and their church, pastor, or even God.

The solution to this breach in relationship is the Christian solution: reconciliation. It is a combination of a responsiveness of the wider organization as well as transparency and clear communication on the one hand and a recognition that the church does not operate on a fee-for-service basis but on the basis of free gifts with no strings attached. We ar not a retail establishment, providing sacred products for a specified fee. However, there is no biblical mandate for most of the programs and business practices of a congregation or a diocese. For that reason, as well as the biblical mandate for transparency, there must be responsiveness to the mission of the church as discerned through the members of that church or diocese.

I'm not exactly sure where I'm going with this, but it just seems to me that as an anxious church in a very anxious and transitional time, finances dominate our attention and I'm not at all sure how to go about getting out of that cycle without a wholesale rethinking of who we are and how we function as a church surrounded by a consumer culture.

All Shall Be Well

After two weeks without a blog entry, several things seem to compel me to put finger to keyboard today. Primarily I am aware that the Fall Pledge Campaign (or Fall Stewardship Season, if you wish) is currently either ramping up or in full swing in many congregations, including mine. When one puts money, discussions of money, and budgets that never seem to have enough money together with the general state of anxiety in the church at large, there is the recipe for a goodly amount of tension and anxiety.

Second, for my Church Development Institute program, I am reading How Your Church Family Works: Congregations as Emotional Systems, by Peter Steinke. He writes:

"Anxiety diminishes clarity and objectivity. It interferes with our capacity to think creatively. We cannot stand outside of the vague dread and observe it. We do not know what we are afraid of, what terrifies us. In contrast to fear, anxiety is undifferentiated. It has no definite focus."

To me, this sounds very much like what appears to be happening in many churches today. Even when sexuality is the focus, we are repeatedly told that it isn't "the issue." Perhaps the issue, rather than the authority of scripture, is simply anxiety that periodically finds a place within us or gravitates to hot-button issues and triggers our instinct to protect against what is different or not understood. I have often seen otherwise perfectly rational discussions degenerate when the topic of sexuality, money, or even evangelism arises--an almost instinctual reaction against dealing with the reality of what is going on in the world and the church in any way but defensively.

I join that thought with my continued consideration of the Gospel passage for this coming Sunday (tomorrow!) where Jesus says to the leper "your faith has made you well." I wonder, what made the lepers who did not return to thank Jesus well? Was it their faith also, or simply the unrecognized (or at least unacknowledged) power of God?

As I was walking back home from the park this afternoon, a perfect Fall day in the northwest, the famous words of St. Julian of Norwich came to mind:

"All shall be well
and all shall be well
and all manner of things shall be well."

It occurs to me that we do not need to have a disfiguring, incurable, or terminal illness to need healing and certainly do not need such a thing for us to need faith that "all manner of things shall be well." That sense of peace in the midst of anxiety is perhaps the greatest healing possible--the comfort of placing our lives (once again!) in God's hands, trusting that God is in control and that we need not pretend to be in control.