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Turning of the Time: A Steward's Reflection by The Rev. Hartshorn Murphy The Church runs on a liturgical calendar that tracks events in the life of Christ. November 28th is the beginning of Advent (or Coming), a season in which we both look forward to the second coming of the Christ in world history as well as look back and recall the events surrounding his first coming. It is a season of expectation and its color is, by Sarum English usage, blue in honor of the Virgin of Nazareth who bore that expectation in her body. Next is the season of the Nativity or Christmas which marks the mystery of the logos (word or plan) of God becoming enfleshed among us. Its color, like all feasts of Christ, is white. The next season is Epiphany or Manifestation which recalls the revelation of Jesus as the Christ (anointed one) to all people, including the Gentiles (you and me). Its color is green symbolizing growing. In the winter and early spring comes the season of Lent (for the lengthening of days), which marks the growing conflict as Jesus' ministry takes him to Jerusalem and confrontation with power. Its color, again in Sarum tradition, is "non-color," the color of sackcloth and ashes and dust. Then comes the brief season of Holy Week which commemorates the events culminating in the sacrifice on a cross outside the gates of the Holy City: its color is oxblood red for blood. The Queen of Seasons is the season of Easter Joy. White is common but "the best" means precisely that: in some places, gold is customary. Fifty days later comes the Day of Pentecost which marks the coming of the Holy Spirit in power on the Church gathered. Her color is the red of flame and fire. And then the Church settles into "ordinary time," the season after Pentecost, the season of the growing mission and ministry of the Church Universal. Its color is green, for it is ordinary for living things to be growing. Then in the fall of the calendar year comes the season of "stewardship." It is always disruptive and jarring, a nod to our humanity and institutionality. If it were a color, perhaps it would be the "beige of burden." In many parishes, there has been an effort over the years to spread out stewardship education throughout the year, to allow the message of stewardship to flow naturally from our teaching and preaching. At one time, I think I felt inadequate as a leader because I never was able to make that year-long pattern work in the parishes I have served. To speak of stewardship - especially the "treasure" of "time, talent and treasure" - always felt like a rude imposition in the grand story of Christ's life, death and resurrection. In spite of the caution that the stewardship campaign, engaged with vigor only in the fall, might miss those who are unavoidably (or intentionally) absent those few Sundays, seeing stewardship as a part of "ordinary time" does make some common sense: it is "ordinary" for Christian folk to be growing in their struggle over the false idol the world has made of money and the wellbeing and self-worth grounded in materiality. But it is an anxious time for most. I am blessed to be a part of a colleague group of clergy. We meet monthly to hear one another's stories and to pray for each other. At breakfast recently one colleague wondered aloud about their most generous giver who had not been at worship for awhile. "Is he angry with me, have I done something wrong?" Another congregation faces a significant cutback in its budget as pledges are down for the first time in three years. "What programs should be eliminated, what staff let go?" A third pastor wondered aloud about renting space to a new tenant and how the pervasive presence of another institution on their small campus will change their lives as a church community. "Is this opportunity or threat?" I shared with them, and it was a blessing to name it, our long standing relationship with secular schools - Crossroads and now the Waldorf School - and how when the school is in trouble financially, the church is too. And for our rabbi friend (for this is an interfaith group), pledge-based Christian stewardship is a mystery and a wonder. The result of all this talk is, of course, to call each of us back to God's grace. "Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or what you will drink, or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothing?... Can any of you by worrying add a single hour on your span of life?" (Matthew 6:25-27) What is unacceptable and ungodly is for the Church and its leaders to feel apologetic or embarrassed about talking about money. The seductive power of money as a false idol in our culture lies in its secrecy and the shame most Americans carry with them around issues of money. If a family member were struggling with a problem of alcohol or other drugs, those who love this person, ineptly and hesitantly perhaps, would eventually intervene out of love to offer help, hope and healing. But until the demon is named, there can be no exorcism. Until the demon is recognized and repudiated, he will persist in returning. Silence is only a form of denial, only serves the interest of evil and brokenness. When the Church speaks about money, it is not marketing or fundraising. Indeed, marketing and fundraising are what churches fall back on when they have failed to engage stewardship as an arena of spiritual warfare, against what Jesus and the Pharisees called "unrighteous mammon" (Luke 16:9f) (unrighteous money was any money not used to glorify God and serve the purposes of the Kingdom of Heaven). The context is different - we live in a far different sort of world than the agrarian world of 1st century Palestine - but the struggle against false devotion is the same. And so as we move into the "stewardship season," know that the messages you hear are not, as they sometimes feel, "commercial breaks," those annoying interruptions to the unfolding drama on your TV screen or to the life of Jesus dramatically reenacted in worship. Far too often, the clergy feel a sense of embarrassment as if to ask the members of God's household (you) to give generously of your substance to your church is to beg for our own salary. And so our talk lacks conviction. Far too often, lay leaders asked to witness to their own struggles and victories in giving come off as superheroes and saints rather than as fellow pilgrims on the road - not by their words but by our defensiveness from hearing their message as encouragement rather than as criticism. And so their talk lacks power. Far too often, we as leaders fall prey to the seduction of being clever rather than being simply honest. And so our presentation of the gospel lacks clarity. The honest truth is then this: in the conflict over money all of us are engaged in, my need to give is far greater than the Church's need to receive. Until we, each of us, understand this paradox, the battle goes ever on. When we do, the church's challenge to teach and preach stewardship will have been met. "No one can serve two masters; for a slave will either hate the one and love the other, or be devoted to the one and despise the other. You cannot serve God and money." (Matthew 6:24) Amen to that.
Copyright © 2004 St. Augustine by-the-Sea
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