Sermon delivered Sunday, Oct. 23, 2016 (23rd Sunday After Pentecost (Proper 25, Year C, Track 2)) at St. Cuthbert's Episcopal Church in Oakland, CA.
Sermon Text(s): Sirach 35:12-17, Luke 18:9-14
A few weeks ago, when we kicked off our stewardship campaign for 2017, we considered the difference between giving out of a sense of obligation, out of a sense that we “owe” someone something verses giving freely out of a sense of joy, in gratitude for the many blessings we have received from God. Our readings this week invite us to continue to explore that theme of “right intentions” with regards to our giving.
No matter what aspect of spirituality you’re looking at, intention is important. In fact, Jesus and the Old Testament prophets emphasize intention so much that one could argue that in religious practice, one’s intentions are even more important that the actions he or she performs. Despite the wisdom of the classic axiom “actions speak louder than words,” it is also true that “actions are judged by intentions.” While all the words in the world mean nothing if we don’t put them into practice, it is also true that all the wonderful actions in the world also mean nothing if they are done with the wrong intentions. Prophets always emphasize this because they know that one of the worst dangers of religious life is the possibility for internal deception, of being convinced you are “righteous” because you do all the right things when internally, your heart is rotten to the core.
Take the Pharisee in today’s Gospel reading, for instance. He is a textbook example of “a good religious man,” if one measured him by his actions only. He fasts twice a week, he tithes, he goes to the Temple to pray and make offerings. But the glimpse into his inner thoughts that we receive in the parable shows us that he’s doing these things for the wrong reasons. His prayer is all about how much better he is than others. Even as he’s thanking God, an religiously praiseworthy action, he’s continuing to feed the sin of pride: “Dear God, I thank you that I am not like other people.”
Jesus tells us that this man’s prayer is not acceptable to God. The tax collector who is aware of his own sinfulness goes home “justified,” but the Pharisee does not. Why? Because you don’t get to thank God for your arrogance or your pride or your sense of superiority. You can’t thank God for those things because God didn’t actually give you any of those things. They are of your own making. Hence the scriptures tell us that this parable was aimed at those who “trusted in themselves that they were righteous,” rather than trusting in God, acknowledging that everything they had was a gift from God, and allowing that realization to humble them.
In our first reading from the book of Sirach, we are encouraged to “give to the Most High as he has given to you, and as generously as you can afford,” but almost in the same breath we are warned against “offering God a bribe”:
“Do not offer him a bribe, for he will not accept it
and do not rely on a dishonest sacrifice;
for the Lord is the judge,
and with him there is no partiality.” (Sirach 35:14-15)
In other words, you can’t buy God’s favor. Not only can you not “pay” God for the blessings you receive, as Naaman, the commander of the Aramean army, tried to do in our reading from 2 Kings a few weeks ago, but you also can’t get God to do what you want by passing him a wad of cash under the table. God shows no “partiality” in the sense that he doesn’t treat people who give lots of money any differently than he treats people who give very little. God’s grace, God’s love, and God’s mercy are freely available to all. They can’t be bought and they can’t be manipulated.
So yes, we should “give to the Most High as he has given to [us], and as generously as [we] can afford,” but not so we can consider ourselves better than others, or because we want to be praised by others, or because we don’t want to owe God anything or in order to try to get what we want out of God. If we are giving for any of those reasons, even though our outward actions look respectable, we’re actually not giving with the right intention. Instead, we should be giving as an act of generosity, as a means to share the blessings we have been given, as a spiritual practice to help us lessen our attachments to physical things.
In recent weeks I’ve been sharing with the folks at the 8:00 contemplative mass some writings on generosity from Sharon Salzburg, a contemplative teacher in the Buddhist tradition. She talks about how in traditional Buddhist teaching, as it came to us out of India and then through East Asia, generosity comes first in the sequence of instruction. Before you can learn about meditation, before you can learn about ethics or morality, you must learn about generosity. It is the foundation upon which all the other teachings are based. But in the U.S., when Buddhism is taught, meditation practice usually comes first, and generosity is often tacked on as an afterthought or appendix. We tend do the same thing in the church: worship, biblical studies, prayer, education about Christian history, all these things come before stewardship and giving and get much more attention in most churches. As a culture, money and financial giving is something we don’t like to talk about very much. Perhaps this is because as a culture, we Americans value “wanting, getting, and hoarding,” as Sharon Salzburg puts it, much more than generosity and sharing.
American society measures our value by how much we have, and this translates into the world of philanthropy by valuing people for how much they can give. The biggest donors are given the most attention, the most status, the most privileges. But the spiritual practice of generosity has nothing to do with comparing ourselves to others, and everything to do with cultivating an interior spiritual state that allows us to let go of our attachments. Jesus’s example of the Pharisee at the temple is a perfect illustration of this: focusing on how what we give compares to what others give takes us away from the spiritual practice of generosity and into the sins of pride, jealousy, and resentment. And Jesus was clear in other places that attachment to one’s wealth prevents us from entering the kingdom of heaven, as in the case of the rich man who cannot bring himself to obey Jesus’s command to sell all he had and give to the poor, but instead “went away grieving, for he had many possessions” (Matthew 19:22). Jesus uses this man as an example, telling his followers, “Truly I tell you… it is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for someone who is rich to enter the kingdom of God” (Matthew 19:24). Why is that so? Because of the dangers of attachment to one’s physical possessions and the false sense of security that wealth can present.
True generosity actually has nothing to do with how much we have to give based on any objective standards. As Salzburg puts it, “Generosity allies itself with an inner feeling of abundance – the feeling that we have enough to share.” This inner feeling of abundance can be present in rich or poor people alike, just as an inner feeling of lack or scarcity can also be present in rich or poor people alike. “There are wealthy people who… find it difficult to give despite their external abundance. There are economically poor people who are very generous even though from the outside they seem to have nothing to give.” In the Christian tradition we see this truth illustrated in the story from Luke 21 about a poor widow who drops two small coins into the temple treasury and is praised for giving more than the wealthy who put in large sums (Luke 21:1-4). Salzburg writes that “[o]ne of the great joys that come from cultivating generosity is the understanding that no matter how much we have by the world’s standards, if we know that we have enough, we can always give something.”
She goes on to talk about how to develop this sense of inner abundance. She says that in her own spiritual practice, she has used this question to help her cultivate it: “What do I really need, right now, in this moment, in order to be happy?” Although the world will tell us we need a new this or a different that – maybe the latest technological gadget or a larger home or a romantic partner or a vacation – always something other than what we have right now, in reality we often need very little beyond what is right in front of us to be happy. Acknowledging that can help us to cultivate that sense of inner abundance that allows generosity to flow freely and releases us from the deadly grasp of attachment and desire. There will always be something shinier and more attractive out there luring us away from where true happiness can be found. The key is being able to recognize that as human beings we have an endless capacity for disappointment and an insatiable desire that will never be fulfilled, and not let those grasping, desperate parts of ourselves to control us. To remember that a sense of inner abundance really has no connection to how much we actually have in objective reality. Because human beings also have an endless capacity for contentment and joy in the present moment. Of being happy where we are, with what we have, and having a sense that we not only have enough, we have enough to share.
Sunday, October 23, 2016
Sunday, October 16, 2016
Perseverance, St. Cuthbert's, and Stewardship
Sermon delivered Sunday, Oct. 16, 2016 (The Twenty-Second Sunday After Pentecost (Proper 24, Year C, Track 2)), at St. Cuthbert’s Episcopal Church, Oakland, CA.
Sermon Text(s): Genesis 32:22-31, 2 Timothy 3:14-4:5, Luke 18:1-8
It doesn’t always work out this way, but occasionally all the scriptures AND the collect for the day have a very clear theme and connection. Today is one of those days. We have it spelled out for us in the opening collect, when we asked God to:
“Preserve the works of your mercy, that your Church throughout the world may persevere with steadfast faith …”
Perseverance is all over these scriptures today – from Jacob wrestling with the angel to Paul’s instructions to Timothy to be “persistent” in teaching the faith, “whether the time is favorable or unfavorable” to the widow’s unfailing determinism to get justice from the unjust judge.
All of these folks stick it out against all odds. They refuse to give up. They keep knocking and knocking and knocking even when the door seems to be welded shut. These scriptures teach us that perseverance is key to the life of faith. Persevere whether you are contending against the forces of God or of this world, whether you are dealing with the frustration of unanswered prayer or the obstacles of unjust social structures. Persevere, because it is through persistence that you will ultimately come to reach your goal, whether that is a greater connection with God, answers to unanswered questions, or justice for those who have been wronged.
From what I know about St. Cuthbert’s, I think you all know quite a bit about perseverance. The written history of this place that was posted on the old website describes a people who have persisted in the face of all odds to do God’s work in this corner of East Oakland.
According to that written history (as articulated by Steve Keplinger and updated by Pamela Cranston), throughout the years, St. Cuthbert’s has faced numerous challenges to its existence but has proved to be a tenacious bunch in the face of adversity. For some of you who lived through this history, this will not be news, but for those of you who are newer to this place, allow me to provide a brief summary of that history.
In the mid-1940s, after its creation as a mission outreach of St. Andrew’s in San Leandro, St. Cuthbert’s was so small it did not even have the regular services of a priest. In the late 50s, the building of the freeway split this neighborhood in two, causing a decrease in population in the area. The church grew in the 60s, but in the 70s, conflict in the wider church around the revision of the prayer book and the ordination of women severely reduced membership, and “by 1974,” the history says, “the possibility of closure was imminent.”
But the people of St. Cuthbert’s persevered – the written history actually uses that word! They went through an interim period, then called a new priest, and managed to pay off their mortgage by 1982.
In the 80s, the church grew and was able to move from mission to parish status, but the earthquake in 1989 and the fire in 1991 affected neighborhoods surrounding the church and reduced membership, and in the late 90s the church again shifted back to mission status, with some members also leaving due to the fact that the congregation had called its first openly gay priest. (The written history didn’t say that, but I’ve been told that by some of you as you’ve shared your stories of your own histories here.)
Again, though, despite these challenges, the people of St. Cuthbert’s hung on. The parish became increasingly ethnically diverse during the late 90s and early 2000s, and began to do more interfaith work, specifically Buddhist-Christian dialogue activities around contemplative practice.
In the mid-2000s, however, after a period of functioning with a vicar and a part-time associate priest, the congregation went back to a single priest who was paid just a quarter-time salary. During the past 10 years, this congregation has experienced a continual loss of membership. As I’ve gotten to know you over the past seven months, I’ve heard many of your stories about your experiences during that time, and I’ve come to the conclusion that those of you who are still here are pretty much tough as nails. You are the epitome of perseverance. You’re not going down unless the ship is going down.
And that’s a good thing, because once again St. Cuthbert’s is at a turning point in its history. During this discernment period, this “year of exploration” that the diocese has instructed us to take, we are considering what the future of St. Cuthbert’s will be. I think most of you know that we’re in a place similar to where the congregation has been before, in one of those “crossroads moments.” The current state of affairs in this congregation is not sustainable over the long-term. Without an increase in membership from younger generations and an increase in financial giving, this congregation will slowly dwindle out of existence over time. Maybe not tomorrow, but eventually.
What some of you may not know is that this summer, your Bishop’s Committee took a leap of faith. When they entered into a six-month contract with me, beginning in July and ending at the end of this calendar year (with the option to renew for another six months), they did something very few church boards would be willing to do. They made a budget decision based on hope, not fear. They decided to raise my salary and my hours from 40% of full time to 60% of full time -- even though there was no money in the budget to do so.
St. Cuthbert’s has been blessed with generous financial bequests from parishioners at their deaths, and we have a balance of about $300,000 in our reserve funds in the bank. Although it is not good financial practice to spend down one’s reserves to meet the operating budget, the B.C. realized that they couldn’t keep doing what they’d been doing and expect different results. They couldn’t expect the church to grow or revitalize with a quarter-time priest. So, expressing a great deal of faith in me and in this congregation, they stepped out in faith and made the decision to pull from their financial reserves in order to make an investment in the congregation’s future.
The Random House Dictionary defines “perseverance” as “steady persistence in a course of action [or] a purpose, a state, especially in spite of difficulties, obstacles, or discouragement.” That’s pretty much the definition of what the leadership here has done throughout its history to continue the work of God in this community, and the present day is no different.
It’s important to realize, though, that this decision is not financially sustainable over time. There must be a significant growth in income for this congregation in order for it to be able to sustain anything close to the clergy services it has come to expect.
To give you a realistic picture of where things stand: I am currently paid for 24 hours of work each week. I consistently go over that number of hours worked, sometimes by just an hour or two, but sometimes by as much as 6 or 8 hours. Before the BC raised my salary, I was working pretty consistently at least a 20 hour week, if not more, although I was only being paid for 16 hours. So in effect, what they BC did in raising my salary was pay me for what I was already doing.
I’ve tried very hard in the past four months since my formal contract began to give you a realistic picture of what you can expect from a priest working 60% of full time hours for 60% of full time pay. But even in order to sustain that, something significant needs to change about the financial situation of this parish.
I say this all not to instill fear in you or to use guilt as a motivator, but in the interest of being open, transparent, and honest. This is our situation. What are you going to do to change it? What is possible for you to do to change it? Can you increase your financial pledge to St. Cuthbert’s in a way that will be sustainable long-term? If you’re already giving at the maximum amount possible for you, how might you look into alternative sources of funding to support St. Cuthbert’s? Could you write a grant proposal? Raise funds in some other way?
Your response to this fall’s stewardship campaign will give us an indication of what may be possible here at St. Cuthbert’s in the coming years. From my perspective, I can envision three possible futures for St. Cuthbert’s:
- The congregation could continue its giving at the same level as it has been. If this is the case, the congregation will eventually run out of money and be forced to choose between closing its doors or merging with another nearby congregation.
- The congregation could increase its giving to the point that it can make the current clergy salary rate of 60% of full time long-term sustainable, and continue at that level, as a mission with a part-time priest.
- The congregation could start to grow again, which would be seen in increased income and increased attendance, and eventually reach the point where it could achieve parish status again, with a full-time priest and a robust outreach ministry to this neighborhood. In order for this goal to be attainable financially anytime in the near future, it would most likely involve providing the vicarage as a home to the priest, because when a congregation provides housing to a priest, they can pay the priest 20% less than a full time salary because the value of the housing is understood to be part of the total compensation package. One possible avenue to being able to afford full-time clergy services more quickly would be to join in some formal partnership with United Lutheran Church of Oakland, which is part of the reason we’re beginning some conversations with them; between the two congregations, perhaps the members could come up with enough funds to pay one full-time priest or pastor.
These are all possible scenarios for St. Cuthbert’s, and there may be others as well. None of them means “success” or “failure.” Whatever scenario is pursued, we want it to be one that is in line with God’s will, and we have to remember that God is in the business of turning things on their heads, in that great reversal where “the last shall be first and the first shall be last.” Sometimes “God’s foolishness is wiser than human wisdom” and “God’s weakness is stronger than human strength” – in other words, what we might see as “success” might actually be “failure,” and what we might see as “failure” might actually be “success.”
I think it’s no secret to many of you that personally, I’ve been pushing and hoping for that last scenario I mentioned, envisioning this place as a flourishing center of community life and ministry in this neighborhood, and even possibly seeing myself as that long-term full-time priest here.
In my own personal discernment, I have come to the conclusion that I am called to full-time work in the church. I am an “all in” kind of person. I have a hard time holding myself back from giving 100% to something that I’m doing. I don’t really know how to give 60%, despite the fact that I’m trying to give you a realistic perspective of what 60% is. But doing that has left me with a constant sense of dissatisfaction, knowing that I’m not doing everything I could be doing to serve this community, and that drives me crazy. I also don’t do well with my commitments spread out over various places, as they would be if I worked multiple part-time jobs to try to cobble together a full-time salary. So because I’ve discerned that, and because I love this place and its people, I’ve been running scenarios about how this place could fit what I know I am called to do. But you all may not decide that you are able to or want to work toward becoming a parish with a full-time priest.
Ultimately, discernment is a matter of listening for God’s will, which may or may not be synonymous with our will. In my enthusiasm and love for this place, I’ve begun to conflate my will with God’s will, and that’s a dangerous thing for a priest to do. These ideas I have, so far they’re really just about me – about my enthusiasm for this community and my ideas for the kinds of ministry I could see happening here and the potential for growth – but the future of this congregation is not about me. It’s about you, the people of St. Cuthbert’s, and what God is calling you to do.
This is why I’m very glad the Bishop’s Committee is considering hiring a third-party consultant – someone who will not have a stake in the outcome in the way that I would – to assist St. Cuthbert’s in your own work of discernment.
So persevere, my brothers and sisters. Keep up that tenacious spirit that has kept you going this long, and do the hard work of listening for where and how God is calling you to “be the church,” God’s beloved community, in this place at this point in time. There may be some difficult reflections and conversations in the coming months, but you need to answer these questions for yourselves:
What do you want for this church?
What do you think God wants for this church?
As you share your answers to those questions and begin to see whether they are the same or different, and whether there is a common theme among everyone’s answers to those questions, the will of God for this place may begin to emerge more clearly. God’s will is always discerned in community, never by a single individual. So prepare yourselves. Get ready to wrestle with the angel, as Jacob did, and to be changed by it.
Sermon Text(s): Genesis 32:22-31, 2 Timothy 3:14-4:5, Luke 18:1-8
It doesn’t always work out this way, but occasionally all the scriptures AND the collect for the day have a very clear theme and connection. Today is one of those days. We have it spelled out for us in the opening collect, when we asked God to:
“Preserve the works of your mercy, that your Church throughout the world may persevere with steadfast faith …”
Perseverance is all over these scriptures today – from Jacob wrestling with the angel to Paul’s instructions to Timothy to be “persistent” in teaching the faith, “whether the time is favorable or unfavorable” to the widow’s unfailing determinism to get justice from the unjust judge.
All of these folks stick it out against all odds. They refuse to give up. They keep knocking and knocking and knocking even when the door seems to be welded shut. These scriptures teach us that perseverance is key to the life of faith. Persevere whether you are contending against the forces of God or of this world, whether you are dealing with the frustration of unanswered prayer or the obstacles of unjust social structures. Persevere, because it is through persistence that you will ultimately come to reach your goal, whether that is a greater connection with God, answers to unanswered questions, or justice for those who have been wronged.
From what I know about St. Cuthbert’s, I think you all know quite a bit about perseverance. The written history of this place that was posted on the old website describes a people who have persisted in the face of all odds to do God’s work in this corner of East Oakland.
According to that written history (as articulated by Steve Keplinger and updated by Pamela Cranston), throughout the years, St. Cuthbert’s has faced numerous challenges to its existence but has proved to be a tenacious bunch in the face of adversity. For some of you who lived through this history, this will not be news, but for those of you who are newer to this place, allow me to provide a brief summary of that history.
In the mid-1940s, after its creation as a mission outreach of St. Andrew’s in San Leandro, St. Cuthbert’s was so small it did not even have the regular services of a priest. In the late 50s, the building of the freeway split this neighborhood in two, causing a decrease in population in the area. The church grew in the 60s, but in the 70s, conflict in the wider church around the revision of the prayer book and the ordination of women severely reduced membership, and “by 1974,” the history says, “the possibility of closure was imminent.”
But the people of St. Cuthbert’s persevered – the written history actually uses that word! They went through an interim period, then called a new priest, and managed to pay off their mortgage by 1982.
In the 80s, the church grew and was able to move from mission to parish status, but the earthquake in 1989 and the fire in 1991 affected neighborhoods surrounding the church and reduced membership, and in the late 90s the church again shifted back to mission status, with some members also leaving due to the fact that the congregation had called its first openly gay priest. (The written history didn’t say that, but I’ve been told that by some of you as you’ve shared your stories of your own histories here.)
Again, though, despite these challenges, the people of St. Cuthbert’s hung on. The parish became increasingly ethnically diverse during the late 90s and early 2000s, and began to do more interfaith work, specifically Buddhist-Christian dialogue activities around contemplative practice.
In the mid-2000s, however, after a period of functioning with a vicar and a part-time associate priest, the congregation went back to a single priest who was paid just a quarter-time salary. During the past 10 years, this congregation has experienced a continual loss of membership. As I’ve gotten to know you over the past seven months, I’ve heard many of your stories about your experiences during that time, and I’ve come to the conclusion that those of you who are still here are pretty much tough as nails. You are the epitome of perseverance. You’re not going down unless the ship is going down.
And that’s a good thing, because once again St. Cuthbert’s is at a turning point in its history. During this discernment period, this “year of exploration” that the diocese has instructed us to take, we are considering what the future of St. Cuthbert’s will be. I think most of you know that we’re in a place similar to where the congregation has been before, in one of those “crossroads moments.” The current state of affairs in this congregation is not sustainable over the long-term. Without an increase in membership from younger generations and an increase in financial giving, this congregation will slowly dwindle out of existence over time. Maybe not tomorrow, but eventually.
What some of you may not know is that this summer, your Bishop’s Committee took a leap of faith. When they entered into a six-month contract with me, beginning in July and ending at the end of this calendar year (with the option to renew for another six months), they did something very few church boards would be willing to do. They made a budget decision based on hope, not fear. They decided to raise my salary and my hours from 40% of full time to 60% of full time -- even though there was no money in the budget to do so.
St. Cuthbert’s has been blessed with generous financial bequests from parishioners at their deaths, and we have a balance of about $300,000 in our reserve funds in the bank. Although it is not good financial practice to spend down one’s reserves to meet the operating budget, the B.C. realized that they couldn’t keep doing what they’d been doing and expect different results. They couldn’t expect the church to grow or revitalize with a quarter-time priest. So, expressing a great deal of faith in me and in this congregation, they stepped out in faith and made the decision to pull from their financial reserves in order to make an investment in the congregation’s future.
The Random House Dictionary defines “perseverance” as “steady persistence in a course of action [or] a purpose, a state, especially in spite of difficulties, obstacles, or discouragement.” That’s pretty much the definition of what the leadership here has done throughout its history to continue the work of God in this community, and the present day is no different.
It’s important to realize, though, that this decision is not financially sustainable over time. There must be a significant growth in income for this congregation in order for it to be able to sustain anything close to the clergy services it has come to expect.
To give you a realistic picture of where things stand: I am currently paid for 24 hours of work each week. I consistently go over that number of hours worked, sometimes by just an hour or two, but sometimes by as much as 6 or 8 hours. Before the BC raised my salary, I was working pretty consistently at least a 20 hour week, if not more, although I was only being paid for 16 hours. So in effect, what they BC did in raising my salary was pay me for what I was already doing.
I’ve tried very hard in the past four months since my formal contract began to give you a realistic picture of what you can expect from a priest working 60% of full time hours for 60% of full time pay. But even in order to sustain that, something significant needs to change about the financial situation of this parish.
I say this all not to instill fear in you or to use guilt as a motivator, but in the interest of being open, transparent, and honest. This is our situation. What are you going to do to change it? What is possible for you to do to change it? Can you increase your financial pledge to St. Cuthbert’s in a way that will be sustainable long-term? If you’re already giving at the maximum amount possible for you, how might you look into alternative sources of funding to support St. Cuthbert’s? Could you write a grant proposal? Raise funds in some other way?
Your response to this fall’s stewardship campaign will give us an indication of what may be possible here at St. Cuthbert’s in the coming years. From my perspective, I can envision three possible futures for St. Cuthbert’s:
- The congregation could continue its giving at the same level as it has been. If this is the case, the congregation will eventually run out of money and be forced to choose between closing its doors or merging with another nearby congregation.
- The congregation could increase its giving to the point that it can make the current clergy salary rate of 60% of full time long-term sustainable, and continue at that level, as a mission with a part-time priest.
- The congregation could start to grow again, which would be seen in increased income and increased attendance, and eventually reach the point where it could achieve parish status again, with a full-time priest and a robust outreach ministry to this neighborhood. In order for this goal to be attainable financially anytime in the near future, it would most likely involve providing the vicarage as a home to the priest, because when a congregation provides housing to a priest, they can pay the priest 20% less than a full time salary because the value of the housing is understood to be part of the total compensation package. One possible avenue to being able to afford full-time clergy services more quickly would be to join in some formal partnership with United Lutheran Church of Oakland, which is part of the reason we’re beginning some conversations with them; between the two congregations, perhaps the members could come up with enough funds to pay one full-time priest or pastor.
These are all possible scenarios for St. Cuthbert’s, and there may be others as well. None of them means “success” or “failure.” Whatever scenario is pursued, we want it to be one that is in line with God’s will, and we have to remember that God is in the business of turning things on their heads, in that great reversal where “the last shall be first and the first shall be last.” Sometimes “God’s foolishness is wiser than human wisdom” and “God’s weakness is stronger than human strength” – in other words, what we might see as “success” might actually be “failure,” and what we might see as “failure” might actually be “success.”
I think it’s no secret to many of you that personally, I’ve been pushing and hoping for that last scenario I mentioned, envisioning this place as a flourishing center of community life and ministry in this neighborhood, and even possibly seeing myself as that long-term full-time priest here.
In my own personal discernment, I have come to the conclusion that I am called to full-time work in the church. I am an “all in” kind of person. I have a hard time holding myself back from giving 100% to something that I’m doing. I don’t really know how to give 60%, despite the fact that I’m trying to give you a realistic perspective of what 60% is. But doing that has left me with a constant sense of dissatisfaction, knowing that I’m not doing everything I could be doing to serve this community, and that drives me crazy. I also don’t do well with my commitments spread out over various places, as they would be if I worked multiple part-time jobs to try to cobble together a full-time salary. So because I’ve discerned that, and because I love this place and its people, I’ve been running scenarios about how this place could fit what I know I am called to do. But you all may not decide that you are able to or want to work toward becoming a parish with a full-time priest.
Ultimately, discernment is a matter of listening for God’s will, which may or may not be synonymous with our will. In my enthusiasm and love for this place, I’ve begun to conflate my will with God’s will, and that’s a dangerous thing for a priest to do. These ideas I have, so far they’re really just about me – about my enthusiasm for this community and my ideas for the kinds of ministry I could see happening here and the potential for growth – but the future of this congregation is not about me. It’s about you, the people of St. Cuthbert’s, and what God is calling you to do.
This is why I’m very glad the Bishop’s Committee is considering hiring a third-party consultant – someone who will not have a stake in the outcome in the way that I would – to assist St. Cuthbert’s in your own work of discernment.
So persevere, my brothers and sisters. Keep up that tenacious spirit that has kept you going this long, and do the hard work of listening for where and how God is calling you to “be the church,” God’s beloved community, in this place at this point in time. There may be some difficult reflections and conversations in the coming months, but you need to answer these questions for yourselves:
What do you want for this church?
What do you think God wants for this church?
As you share your answers to those questions and begin to see whether they are the same or different, and whether there is a common theme among everyone’s answers to those questions, the will of God for this place may begin to emerge more clearly. God’s will is always discerned in community, never by a single individual. So prepare yourselves. Get ready to wrestle with the angel, as Jacob did, and to be changed by it.
Sunday, October 9, 2016
How do we respond when God gives us a gift?
Sermon delivered Sunday, Oct. 9, 2016 (The Twenty-First Sunday After Pentecost (Proper 23, Year C, Track 2)), at St. Cuthbert’s Episcopal Church, Oakland, CA.
Sermon Text(s): 2 Kings 5:1-3, 7-15c; Luke 17:11-19
How do we respond when God gives us a gift?
That’s the question our scriptures invite us to consider today. When we receive a gift from God, when God offers us new life, when God heals us, how do we respond?
In both our first lesson from the book of 2 Kings and the story in the Gospel passage from Luke, we are given examples of people who received gifts from God – healing from the skin disease of leprosy. There were different circumstances surrounding each healing, but in both cases we could say that the healing was example of God’s grace, a gift freely given to the people who were ill. They did nothing to “deserve” or “earn” the healing, they were simply offered it.
So what are the responses of the people who are healed? Naaman, the commander of the army an enemy nation, returns to the prophet Elisha and proclaims that he now knows that the God of Israel is the only God – for him, the healing prompts a conversion experience, a confession of faith.
In the Gospel passage, one of the lepers who had been healed praises God and goes back to Jesus and thanks him. But Jesus observes, wryly, “Were not ten made clean? But the other nine, where are they?”
The other nine are still healed, though. The scriptures don’t tell us that because they failed to thank Jesus, their healing was suddenly revoked. Presumably they still remain disease-free, whether or not they returned to thank the person who healed them or give praise to God. So God’s healing remains a gift, not contingent on the people’s response to it.
Returning to the story of Naaman, the lectionary actually cuts off his response mid-sentence, so we don’t get the full picture of how he responds to the experience of being healed. When he says, “Now I know that there is no God in all the earth except in Israel,” he immediately follows that statement with, “please accept a present from your servant.” Naaman returns to Elisha not only to make a statement of faith but to offer a gift in return. But Elisha refuses to accept Naaman’s gift, saying, “As the Lord lives, whom I serve, I will accept nothing!”
It’s perhaps natural for Naaman to feel that he “owes” Elisha something after he’s been healed, but Elisha disabuses him of that notion. By refusing the lavish and expensive gifts Naaman offers him, the message Elisha conveys is: “You don’t have to pay me. Your healing was a gift from God. You can’t earn it, you can’t buy it, you can’t make this an even transaction by reciprocating in any way. There is no reciprocation with God. There is only grateful acceptance of gifts freely offered.”
Today we kick off our fall stewardship season, when we’re going to be thinking a lot about the gifts God gives us and how we respond to those gifts. Are we grateful, like the leper in the Gospel reading? Do we give praise to God and return to the one who has blessed us to thank him?
The part of Naaman’s story that doesn’t appear in the lectionary complicates this narrative. In stewardship season, we often hear a lot about how all we have is a gift from God, and so therefore we ought to joyfully “give back to God” in thanksgiving. But when Naaman tries to make a gift to the prophet after his healing, Elisha refuses it. Does Elisha’s refusal of his financial gift mean that we shouldn’t give to the church in grateful thanksgiving for all God has given to us?
As I read this passage, I think the key element here is intention. Naaman is essentially trying to “pay” the prophet for the service he has received. The prophet rejects that as an emphasis on the fact that God’s grace is freely given. We still continue this tradition in the church today by the fact that clergy do not charge for performing the sacraments of the church. In some religious traditions, there is a set fee for every ritual that you ask a religious leader to perform. But we don’t do this in the church. Every time I work with a family who is not closely connected with the church for a wedding or baptism or funeral, inevitably they will ask me what my “fee” is for doing the service. “No fee,” I always tell them. “The services of the church are provided free of charge. They are a gift, just as God’s grace is a gift.” They are usually shocked; given how “transactional” our society is, they can’t imagine something being provided without there being a charge for it. When they persist in asking how they can compensate me, I tell them that the church survives financially on the generosity of its members, so if they feel called to give something, we would welcome a donation to the church, but as a priest I cannot accept “payment” for performing a religious ritual.
To some, this might sound like mincing words. You can’t pay the priest for the ritual, but you can make a donation to the church, and the church pays the priest’s salary. So aren’t you essentially supporting the priest financially if you make the donation as well? Well, on some level, yes, but the distinction between giving generosity out of a free desire to give and giving because you feel you “owe” someone something and you are seeing that gift as a “payment” for services received is important. The kind of giving we encourage in the church is giving as a spiritual discipline, not giving as paying the bills.
What do I mean by this? Well, think about how different your mindset is when you receive a bill in the mail that you owe and you pay that bill verses when you spend money on a gift for someone for their birthday -- or maybe not even for their birthday, but “just because,” when you see something that reminds you of them. Think about how different it feels to spend money because you want to bring joy to someone verses when you spend money out of a sense of obligation.
In the church, we operate out of a principle of abundance and generosity. Rather than using guilt to motivate people to give money by presenting them with a “bill” for how much they “owe” for the religious services and community and use of the communal meeting space they’ve experienced in the past year, we ask people to give as a spiritual practice – as a way to practice generosity, to practice letting go of our attachments to physical things – and as we all do that collectively, together, we have faith that there will be enough money among us to pay the bills.
John Rawlinson [a retired priest who attends St. Cuthbert's] recently left me a handout with a list of differences between “living churches” and “dead churches.” One of the characteristics of “dead churches” was that in their financial giving, “people tip God.” To me, that speaks to the difference between giving out of generosity and joy to support the work of God in a community together and giving out of a sense of obligation or payment – “tipping God” for the services we’ve received. “Gee thanks, God, for going out of your way to carry my suitcase and save my soul while you were at it; here’s a sweaty $5 bill that I’ll discreetly press into the palm of your hand.” When we approach giving that way, we take care of an obligation without it inconveniencing us too much. We’ve settled our “debt” and so now the score is even, or perhaps even a little in our favor, since we’ve gone above and beyond what we owed by adding a tip!
But the story of Naaman reminds us that we can’t “pay God back” for the gifts God gives us. We can’t settle the score, we can’t even things out, we can’t free ourselves from any sense of obligation to God, because the truth is we will be forever indebted to God for our very life and breath as well as whatever other blessings he may have brought into our lives. But instead of that truth making us feel burdened, it can free us. We don’t have to worry about “paying God back.” We can instead “pay it forward” by sharing with those around us – and in doing so, we may find that our needs and theirs are both met. Giving financially to the church is not about “giving back to God” -- remember, the church is not God! The church is a community of other Christians gathered together to praise and worship God and to serve others. So when we give to the church, we’re not “giving back to God,” we’re “paying it forward,” sharing what God has given us with others to ensure that together, we can continue to do God’s work in our church and the neighborhood around it.
In freely giving us the gifts he gives as pure grace, God sets forth a chain of giving that doesn’t circle back to himself, but expands out like ripples from a pebble dropped in a pond of water, touching and benefitting an ever-expanding circle of people. And it all starts with an acknowledgement of the gift as gift, as something we cannot repay, and the gratitude that comes with that realization. As the leper did in today’s Gospel reading, the only thing we can do is praise God and give thanks – and keep that wave of generosity going by sharing God’s grace and mercy with others.
Sermon Text(s): 2 Kings 5:1-3, 7-15c; Luke 17:11-19
How do we respond when God gives us a gift?
That’s the question our scriptures invite us to consider today. When we receive a gift from God, when God offers us new life, when God heals us, how do we respond?
In both our first lesson from the book of 2 Kings and the story in the Gospel passage from Luke, we are given examples of people who received gifts from God – healing from the skin disease of leprosy. There were different circumstances surrounding each healing, but in both cases we could say that the healing was example of God’s grace, a gift freely given to the people who were ill. They did nothing to “deserve” or “earn” the healing, they were simply offered it.
So what are the responses of the people who are healed? Naaman, the commander of the army an enemy nation, returns to the prophet Elisha and proclaims that he now knows that the God of Israel is the only God – for him, the healing prompts a conversion experience, a confession of faith.
In the Gospel passage, one of the lepers who had been healed praises God and goes back to Jesus and thanks him. But Jesus observes, wryly, “Were not ten made clean? But the other nine, where are they?”
The other nine are still healed, though. The scriptures don’t tell us that because they failed to thank Jesus, their healing was suddenly revoked. Presumably they still remain disease-free, whether or not they returned to thank the person who healed them or give praise to God. So God’s healing remains a gift, not contingent on the people’s response to it.
Returning to the story of Naaman, the lectionary actually cuts off his response mid-sentence, so we don’t get the full picture of how he responds to the experience of being healed. When he says, “Now I know that there is no God in all the earth except in Israel,” he immediately follows that statement with, “please accept a present from your servant.” Naaman returns to Elisha not only to make a statement of faith but to offer a gift in return. But Elisha refuses to accept Naaman’s gift, saying, “As the Lord lives, whom I serve, I will accept nothing!”
It’s perhaps natural for Naaman to feel that he “owes” Elisha something after he’s been healed, but Elisha disabuses him of that notion. By refusing the lavish and expensive gifts Naaman offers him, the message Elisha conveys is: “You don’t have to pay me. Your healing was a gift from God. You can’t earn it, you can’t buy it, you can’t make this an even transaction by reciprocating in any way. There is no reciprocation with God. There is only grateful acceptance of gifts freely offered.”
Today we kick off our fall stewardship season, when we’re going to be thinking a lot about the gifts God gives us and how we respond to those gifts. Are we grateful, like the leper in the Gospel reading? Do we give praise to God and return to the one who has blessed us to thank him?
The part of Naaman’s story that doesn’t appear in the lectionary complicates this narrative. In stewardship season, we often hear a lot about how all we have is a gift from God, and so therefore we ought to joyfully “give back to God” in thanksgiving. But when Naaman tries to make a gift to the prophet after his healing, Elisha refuses it. Does Elisha’s refusal of his financial gift mean that we shouldn’t give to the church in grateful thanksgiving for all God has given to us?
As I read this passage, I think the key element here is intention. Naaman is essentially trying to “pay” the prophet for the service he has received. The prophet rejects that as an emphasis on the fact that God’s grace is freely given. We still continue this tradition in the church today by the fact that clergy do not charge for performing the sacraments of the church. In some religious traditions, there is a set fee for every ritual that you ask a religious leader to perform. But we don’t do this in the church. Every time I work with a family who is not closely connected with the church for a wedding or baptism or funeral, inevitably they will ask me what my “fee” is for doing the service. “No fee,” I always tell them. “The services of the church are provided free of charge. They are a gift, just as God’s grace is a gift.” They are usually shocked; given how “transactional” our society is, they can’t imagine something being provided without there being a charge for it. When they persist in asking how they can compensate me, I tell them that the church survives financially on the generosity of its members, so if they feel called to give something, we would welcome a donation to the church, but as a priest I cannot accept “payment” for performing a religious ritual.
To some, this might sound like mincing words. You can’t pay the priest for the ritual, but you can make a donation to the church, and the church pays the priest’s salary. So aren’t you essentially supporting the priest financially if you make the donation as well? Well, on some level, yes, but the distinction between giving generosity out of a free desire to give and giving because you feel you “owe” someone something and you are seeing that gift as a “payment” for services received is important. The kind of giving we encourage in the church is giving as a spiritual discipline, not giving as paying the bills.
What do I mean by this? Well, think about how different your mindset is when you receive a bill in the mail that you owe and you pay that bill verses when you spend money on a gift for someone for their birthday -- or maybe not even for their birthday, but “just because,” when you see something that reminds you of them. Think about how different it feels to spend money because you want to bring joy to someone verses when you spend money out of a sense of obligation.
In the church, we operate out of a principle of abundance and generosity. Rather than using guilt to motivate people to give money by presenting them with a “bill” for how much they “owe” for the religious services and community and use of the communal meeting space they’ve experienced in the past year, we ask people to give as a spiritual practice – as a way to practice generosity, to practice letting go of our attachments to physical things – and as we all do that collectively, together, we have faith that there will be enough money among us to pay the bills.
John Rawlinson [a retired priest who attends St. Cuthbert's] recently left me a handout with a list of differences between “living churches” and “dead churches.” One of the characteristics of “dead churches” was that in their financial giving, “people tip God.” To me, that speaks to the difference between giving out of generosity and joy to support the work of God in a community together and giving out of a sense of obligation or payment – “tipping God” for the services we’ve received. “Gee thanks, God, for going out of your way to carry my suitcase and save my soul while you were at it; here’s a sweaty $5 bill that I’ll discreetly press into the palm of your hand.” When we approach giving that way, we take care of an obligation without it inconveniencing us too much. We’ve settled our “debt” and so now the score is even, or perhaps even a little in our favor, since we’ve gone above and beyond what we owed by adding a tip!
But the story of Naaman reminds us that we can’t “pay God back” for the gifts God gives us. We can’t settle the score, we can’t even things out, we can’t free ourselves from any sense of obligation to God, because the truth is we will be forever indebted to God for our very life and breath as well as whatever other blessings he may have brought into our lives. But instead of that truth making us feel burdened, it can free us. We don’t have to worry about “paying God back.” We can instead “pay it forward” by sharing with those around us – and in doing so, we may find that our needs and theirs are both met. Giving financially to the church is not about “giving back to God” -- remember, the church is not God! The church is a community of other Christians gathered together to praise and worship God and to serve others. So when we give to the church, we’re not “giving back to God,” we’re “paying it forward,” sharing what God has given us with others to ensure that together, we can continue to do God’s work in our church and the neighborhood around it.
In freely giving us the gifts he gives as pure grace, God sets forth a chain of giving that doesn’t circle back to himself, but expands out like ripples from a pebble dropped in a pond of water, touching and benefitting an ever-expanding circle of people. And it all starts with an acknowledgement of the gift as gift, as something we cannot repay, and the gratitude that comes with that realization. As the leper did in today’s Gospel reading, the only thing we can do is praise God and give thanks – and keep that wave of generosity going by sharing God’s grace and mercy with others.
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