You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here.
When Mary of Bethany poured a full jar of expensive oil of nard all over Jesus’ feet and wiped them with her hair, she wasn’t just trying to relax him with a little aromatherapy. She was anointing him, while she still could, guessing that his time on earth was short. Nard, an essential oil derived from spikenard, a flowering plant in the Valerian family (thanks, Wikipedia…) had many uses, although, except for a reference in the Iliad to its use in perfuming a body, it does not appear to have had funerary use. The spices brought after Jesus’ crucifixion were a mixture of myrrh and aloes. Yet Jesus answers Mary’s critics with this cryptic observation: “Leave her alone. She bought it so that she might keep it for the day of my burial.”
The Bible relates many kinds of anointing – of priests and prophets, of kings and kings-to-be; anointing for healing; the hint of anointing in baptism; and the anointing of the Holy Spirit. This act of Mary’s doesn’t fit any of those categories. And if she bought the oil for Jesus’ burial, why does she use it all now?
Knowing the danger he was in, perhaps she wanted him to feel in a tactile way the love of those who surrounded him. Perhaps she had a sense of the horrors ahead, and wanted him to have one moment of pampering. Perhaps she wanted to show the others how to give it all. Perhaps she thought the day of his burial would be too late to do him any good. And six days later, Jesus will be washing the feet of his disciples, perhaps inspired by this incident? He will let them know in a tactile way what love feels like, the love of one who lays aside his power and prerogatives for the beloved. They don’t really understand then, any more than they likely understood Mary’s gesture. But later they would.
Who in our lives needs to feel our love in that way?
Who needs us to relinquish power or privilege and give of our time, our gifts, our pride?
Maybe someone to whom we are close; maybe someone we don’t know at all.
Feet are intimate, way too much so for many people; some churches wash hands instead of feet on Maundy Thursday. That breaks my heart a little: intimacy is the point. Being met at the place of our least attractive feature is the point. Being pampered and loved – and yes, anointed – is how God makes effective saints out of ordinary people.
All it requires is submitting to love. Even Jesus did that.
© Kate Heichler, 2025. To receive Water Daily by email each morning, subscribe here. Here are the bible readings for next Sunday. Water Daily is also a podcast – subscribe to it here on Apple, Spotify or your favorite podcast platform.
Showing posts with label giving. Show all posts
Showing posts with label giving. Show all posts
4-2-25 - What a Waste
You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here.
I am uncomfortable with hugely generous gestures, when someone sacrifices everything to help someone else, or to serve God. I probably would have told St. Francis of Assisi, “Why don’t you leave some of it behind? Why all of it? Don’t you want a little insurance?” Everything in moderation, right? Even sacrificial giving. So I’m not in particularly nice company this week – for the person in our story who articulates this more pragmatic way of thinking about resources is none other than Judas: But Judas Iscariot, one of his disciples (the one who was about to betray him), said, “Why was this perfume not sold for three hundred denarii and the money given to the poor?”
In an aside John tells us that Judas didn’t actually care about the poor, but wanted to steal the offering for himself. How about we give him the benefit of the doubt? Maybe he actually did care about the poor, actually did care about the radical equality that Jesus was preaching, actually did want to see the Romans sent home and the revolution come to pass. To someone with economic justice on his mind, Mary’s extravagant gesture could seem an unconscionable waste of resources. Three hundred denarii’s worth of high-priced perfumed oil on one person’s feet? Stinking up the whole house?
It is outrageous, when you think about it as stewardship. It makes no sense. About as much sense as it made for God to offer up that One who was most precious to him, his only begotten Son. About as much sense as it made for that Son to take upon himself the catastrophic estrangement which was our due as those who rebelled against God; to give up his position, his dignity, his life.
One grey and rainy Good Friday I found myself in New York City’s Union Square after the three-hour Preaching of the Cross at Grace Church. Everything was dingy and dirty; everybody looked harried and downcast, me included. And I thought, “For this? You gave it all for this miserable lot? What a waste.”
Yes, what a waste; what ridiculous extravagance, to kill the Son of God so that we might be free to dwell in love with God for all eternity. As that beautiful hymn, My Song is Love Unknown, says, “Love to the loveless shown, that they might lovely be. / Oh, who am I, that for my sake, my Lord should take frail flesh and die?”
Becoming a person who can offer it all starts with our willingness to accept that Christ has given it all for us; to accept that we are that precious to God, that God finds us worthy because God said so, not because of anything we think or do or say. Perhaps today we might meditate on that extravagant, profligate, wasteful, over-the-top love lavished upon us, try to let it soak into our bones, into our spirits, into all the dents the world’s “no’s” have left in us. You are loved, beyond measure, beyond sense. Deal with it!
© Kate Heichler, 2025. To receive Water Daily by email each morning, subscribe here. Here are the bible readings for next Sunday. Water Daily is also a podcast – subscribe to it here on Apple, Spotify or your favorite podcast platform.
I am uncomfortable with hugely generous gestures, when someone sacrifices everything to help someone else, or to serve God. I probably would have told St. Francis of Assisi, “Why don’t you leave some of it behind? Why all of it? Don’t you want a little insurance?” Everything in moderation, right? Even sacrificial giving. So I’m not in particularly nice company this week – for the person in our story who articulates this more pragmatic way of thinking about resources is none other than Judas: But Judas Iscariot, one of his disciples (the one who was about to betray him), said, “Why was this perfume not sold for three hundred denarii and the money given to the poor?”
In an aside John tells us that Judas didn’t actually care about the poor, but wanted to steal the offering for himself. How about we give him the benefit of the doubt? Maybe he actually did care about the poor, actually did care about the radical equality that Jesus was preaching, actually did want to see the Romans sent home and the revolution come to pass. To someone with economic justice on his mind, Mary’s extravagant gesture could seem an unconscionable waste of resources. Three hundred denarii’s worth of high-priced perfumed oil on one person’s feet? Stinking up the whole house?
It is outrageous, when you think about it as stewardship. It makes no sense. About as much sense as it made for God to offer up that One who was most precious to him, his only begotten Son. About as much sense as it made for that Son to take upon himself the catastrophic estrangement which was our due as those who rebelled against God; to give up his position, his dignity, his life.
One grey and rainy Good Friday I found myself in New York City’s Union Square after the three-hour Preaching of the Cross at Grace Church. Everything was dingy and dirty; everybody looked harried and downcast, me included. And I thought, “For this? You gave it all for this miserable lot? What a waste.”
Yes, what a waste; what ridiculous extravagance, to kill the Son of God so that we might be free to dwell in love with God for all eternity. As that beautiful hymn, My Song is Love Unknown, says, “Love to the loveless shown, that they might lovely be. / Oh, who am I, that for my sake, my Lord should take frail flesh and die?”
Becoming a person who can offer it all starts with our willingness to accept that Christ has given it all for us; to accept that we are that precious to God, that God finds us worthy because God said so, not because of anything we think or do or say. Perhaps today we might meditate on that extravagant, profligate, wasteful, over-the-top love lavished upon us, try to let it soak into our bones, into our spirits, into all the dents the world’s “no’s” have left in us. You are loved, beyond measure, beyond sense. Deal with it!
© Kate Heichler, 2025. To receive Water Daily by email each morning, subscribe here. Here are the bible readings for next Sunday. Water Daily is also a podcast – subscribe to it here on Apple, Spotify or your favorite podcast platform.
4-1-25 - Extravagant Love
You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here.
There are some who suggest that Jesus of Nazareth was not the celibate religious leader depicted in the Gospels, that he was intimately involved with, perhaps even married to Mary Magdalene. Certainly, a married religious leader would have been more normal in that place and time than a celibate, but the Gospels convey not the slightest suggestion that Jesus was romantically linked to anyone.
And had he been, my candidate for the identity of the lucky girl would be not Mary of Magdala, but Mary of Bethany. She’s the one who neglected her household duties to sit at his feet, taking in his teaching while her sister prepared a meal alone (Luke 10:38-42). When Jesus finally arrives days after their brother Lazarus has died, he asks for Mary. And when she comes to him and gently rebukes him for having arrived too late, it is her tears, and those of onlookers, which appear to move him to action (John 11). There is no reason to imagine their connection went beyond friendship, but it seems to have been a deep one.
This is evident in the enormous intimacy and generosity of Mary’s gesture at the dinner in her home in this week's story: Mary took a pound of costly perfume made of pure nard, anointed Jesus’ feet, and wiped them with her hair. The house was filled with the fragrance of the perfume.
This act is shocking on several levels. First, there is the intimacy of anointing Jesus’ feet, well beyond the expected hospitality of washing the feet of one’s guests. Mary's using her hair to wipe the oil suggests such physical closeness it must have made onlookers uncomfortable. To kneel at someone’s feet and tend to them with your own hands and hair is a posture of profound worship and devotion.
Then there is the shocking extravagance, wastefulness even, of using the entire jar of ointment. Nard was extremely precious and very potent; no one would need a whole jar for one use. Learning that the house was filled with the fragrance tells us how excessive this gesture was.
But its very excess is what commends Mary’s action to us. She holds nothing back, not for economy or propriety. Spiritually connected to Jesus in a way few others are, she acts upon her instinctive knowledge that Jesus’ time among them is coming to an end and seizes the opportunity to demonstrate her great love for him while he is yet with her.
We are in a different situation – Jesus is not going anywhere; in fact, we’re waiting for him to return in fullness. But our time in this world is limited. Don’t we want to fully embrace God’s love in the here and now?
Where in our lives do we hold back on expressing our love for Jesus, for God? Do we content ourselves with the hour or so a week we spend in church; the amounts we give that stretch our budgets but little; short prayers at the beginning and end of the day and anytime a crisis arises in between? In what ways do we lavish our time and resources on God and God’s people? Can we think of times when we have left nothing in reserve? Those are occasions for rejoicing.
Mary demonstrated her extravagant worship in both quality and quantity. She held nothing back, lavishing love and care on her Lord. How might we love Jesus the way she did?
© Kate Heichler, 2025. To receive Water Daily by email each morning, subscribe here. Here are the bible readings for next Sunday. Water Daily is also a podcast – subscribe to it here on Apple, Spotify or your favorite podcast platform.
There are some who suggest that Jesus of Nazareth was not the celibate religious leader depicted in the Gospels, that he was intimately involved with, perhaps even married to Mary Magdalene. Certainly, a married religious leader would have been more normal in that place and time than a celibate, but the Gospels convey not the slightest suggestion that Jesus was romantically linked to anyone.
And had he been, my candidate for the identity of the lucky girl would be not Mary of Magdala, but Mary of Bethany. She’s the one who neglected her household duties to sit at his feet, taking in his teaching while her sister prepared a meal alone (Luke 10:38-42). When Jesus finally arrives days after their brother Lazarus has died, he asks for Mary. And when she comes to him and gently rebukes him for having arrived too late, it is her tears, and those of onlookers, which appear to move him to action (John 11). There is no reason to imagine their connection went beyond friendship, but it seems to have been a deep one.
This is evident in the enormous intimacy and generosity of Mary’s gesture at the dinner in her home in this week's story: Mary took a pound of costly perfume made of pure nard, anointed Jesus’ feet, and wiped them with her hair. The house was filled with the fragrance of the perfume.
This act is shocking on several levels. First, there is the intimacy of anointing Jesus’ feet, well beyond the expected hospitality of washing the feet of one’s guests. Mary's using her hair to wipe the oil suggests such physical closeness it must have made onlookers uncomfortable. To kneel at someone’s feet and tend to them with your own hands and hair is a posture of profound worship and devotion.
Then there is the shocking extravagance, wastefulness even, of using the entire jar of ointment. Nard was extremely precious and very potent; no one would need a whole jar for one use. Learning that the house was filled with the fragrance tells us how excessive this gesture was.
But its very excess is what commends Mary’s action to us. She holds nothing back, not for economy or propriety. Spiritually connected to Jesus in a way few others are, she acts upon her instinctive knowledge that Jesus’ time among them is coming to an end and seizes the opportunity to demonstrate her great love for him while he is yet with her.
We are in a different situation – Jesus is not going anywhere; in fact, we’re waiting for him to return in fullness. But our time in this world is limited. Don’t we want to fully embrace God’s love in the here and now?
Where in our lives do we hold back on expressing our love for Jesus, for God? Do we content ourselves with the hour or so a week we spend in church; the amounts we give that stretch our budgets but little; short prayers at the beginning and end of the day and anytime a crisis arises in between? In what ways do we lavish our time and resources on God and God’s people? Can we think of times when we have left nothing in reserve? Those are occasions for rejoicing.
Mary demonstrated her extravagant worship in both quality and quantity. She held nothing back, lavishing love and care on her Lord. How might we love Jesus the way she did?
© Kate Heichler, 2025. To receive Water Daily by email each morning, subscribe here. Here are the bible readings for next Sunday. Water Daily is also a podcast – subscribe to it here on Apple, Spotify or your favorite podcast platform.
11-6-24 - Giving Out of Plenty
You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here.
Jesus was usually on the move, but in this week’s gospel story we see him sitting still, watching: He sat down opposite the treasury, and watched the crowd putting money into the treasury. Many rich people put in large sums. A poor widow came and put in two small copper coins, which are worth a penny.
What induced Jesus to sit and watch people putting money into the temple treasury? He has just lambasted the scribes for their corruption, greed and exploitation of widows – maybe he wanted to see if he was proved right by their actions. All we’re told is that he watched the crowds putting money into the treasury, which is depicted as being funnel-shaped and narrow at the top, presumably so you can put coins in but not take them out.
Jesus observes a great deal of generosity - “Many rich people put in large sums.” While Jesus said it is hard for the wealthy to enter into the Life of God, and that one cannot serve both God and wealth, he never accused the wealthy of lacking generosity. He simply states a reality – wealth and faith don’t dance well together. It is extremely difficult to have wealth and not put our trust in it or fear losing it. That’s what gets in the way of our relationship with God.
Giving out of plenty is pretty easy, just as is loving those who love us. Yet Jesus said, “If you love those who love you, what credit is that to you? For even sinners love those who love them. If you do good to those who do good to you, what credit is that to you? For even sinners do the same. If you lend to those from whom you hope to receive, what credit is that to you? Even sinners lend to sinners, to receive as much again. But love your enemies, do good, and lend, expecting nothing in return.” (Luke 6:32-35)
Jesus invites us to go beyond giving out of our plenty to giving even when it costs us; to give out of our harvest, our income, not only out of our savings. That widow was free of the obstacles that kept the wealthy bound. She gave it all, maybe because she had nothing to lose. When we have wealth, we have everything to lose.
Does this mean we have to give everything away? I hope not! I’m not ready. But it may mean we are ready to give everything should we sense God’s call to do so, and to reduce our reliance upon our wealth and comfort. It may mean we ask God regularly where God would have us use our wealth, and tune our antennae to God’s response. Each of us may be faced with a need that invites us to give way beyond our comfort – and we will do it if we feel God calling us to that.
In the meantime we can build up our giving muscles by releasing more and more of our wealth, putting it into play in God’s service. This is the season when many churches are inviting members to determine how much they think they’ll give in 2025 to support God’s mission at that church. Think of this as exercise season for your generosity and trust muscles.
How far are you willing to trust God’s provision?
How excited are you to invest in what you see God doing through your congregation?
How free do you want to be?
© Kate Heichler, 2024. To receive Water Daily by email each morning, subscribe here. Here are the bible readings for next Sunday. Water Daily is also a podcast – subscribe to it here on Apple, Spotify or your favorite podcast platform.
Jesus was usually on the move, but in this week’s gospel story we see him sitting still, watching: He sat down opposite the treasury, and watched the crowd putting money into the treasury. Many rich people put in large sums. A poor widow came and put in two small copper coins, which are worth a penny.
What induced Jesus to sit and watch people putting money into the temple treasury? He has just lambasted the scribes for their corruption, greed and exploitation of widows – maybe he wanted to see if he was proved right by their actions. All we’re told is that he watched the crowds putting money into the treasury, which is depicted as being funnel-shaped and narrow at the top, presumably so you can put coins in but not take them out.
Jesus observes a great deal of generosity - “Many rich people put in large sums.” While Jesus said it is hard for the wealthy to enter into the Life of God, and that one cannot serve both God and wealth, he never accused the wealthy of lacking generosity. He simply states a reality – wealth and faith don’t dance well together. It is extremely difficult to have wealth and not put our trust in it or fear losing it. That’s what gets in the way of our relationship with God.
Giving out of plenty is pretty easy, just as is loving those who love us. Yet Jesus said, “If you love those who love you, what credit is that to you? For even sinners love those who love them. If you do good to those who do good to you, what credit is that to you? For even sinners do the same. If you lend to those from whom you hope to receive, what credit is that to you? Even sinners lend to sinners, to receive as much again. But love your enemies, do good, and lend, expecting nothing in return.” (Luke 6:32-35)
Jesus invites us to go beyond giving out of our plenty to giving even when it costs us; to give out of our harvest, our income, not only out of our savings. That widow was free of the obstacles that kept the wealthy bound. She gave it all, maybe because she had nothing to lose. When we have wealth, we have everything to lose.
Does this mean we have to give everything away? I hope not! I’m not ready. But it may mean we are ready to give everything should we sense God’s call to do so, and to reduce our reliance upon our wealth and comfort. It may mean we ask God regularly where God would have us use our wealth, and tune our antennae to God’s response. Each of us may be faced with a need that invites us to give way beyond our comfort – and we will do it if we feel God calling us to that.
In the meantime we can build up our giving muscles by releasing more and more of our wealth, putting it into play in God’s service. This is the season when many churches are inviting members to determine how much they think they’ll give in 2025 to support God’s mission at that church. Think of this as exercise season for your generosity and trust muscles.
How far are you willing to trust God’s provision?
How excited are you to invest in what you see God doing through your congregation?
How free do you want to be?
© Kate Heichler, 2024. To receive Water Daily by email each morning, subscribe here. Here are the bible readings for next Sunday. Water Daily is also a podcast – subscribe to it here on Apple, Spotify or your favorite podcast platform.
10-17-23 - Giving With God
You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here.
Then Jesus said to them, “Give therefore to the emperor the things that are the emperor’s, and to God the things that are God’s.”
Sounds simple, right? Give to God the things that are God’s. But what belongs to God? Doesn’t the emperor also belong to God? And if everything belongs to God – why does God need our gifts? Our pledges? Our offerings?
Maybe God doesn’t need anything from us. Maybe we need to give, because things get squirrely when we don’t, and because we are transformed when we do.
It is tempting to see the two kinds of “giving” that Jesus talks about here as similar, parallel tracks. We owe the government our taxes to pay for the goods and services we need governments to render. We owe God our “dues” to pay for… what? Clergy and church buildings? Charity?
Once we equate giving our money and resources for God’s mission to “taxes” or “dues,” it becomes an obligation, a contractual exchange. That is not what giving is intended to be for Christians. We are not called to give to God. We are called to give in relationship with God, to give because it is the best way we know to reciprocate in gratitude for all that we’ve received, to join into the celebration of blessing.
When our giving is stunted, it may be that we are not all that grateful, not feeling very blessed. We give because it sets us free, opens us up, changes our hearts. We give because we love seeing what happens for others when we do.
Where does giving bring you the most joy? Where do you feel the least willing?
Both answers offer ground for prayer – and action. Maybe we are being invited to give additionally in both categories. Maybe we want to strengthen our gratitude muscles.
We are to give as God has given us – and in Christ, God gave us everything. The great U2 song, “With or Without You” is not about a human relationship, but the struggle to exist in faith and intimacy with the God you cannot see. (The “she” in U2 songs often refers to the Holy Spirit or to grace…)
See the stone set in your eyes See the thorn twist in your side. (A Pauline reference.)
I can’t live, with or without you,” Bono sings.
And then comes the repeated refrain which applies to both God, and to us in relationship with the God whose essential nature it is to give, a nature we gradually take on: And you give, and you give, and you give yourself away. And we never run out.
Then Jesus said to them, “Give therefore to the emperor the things that are the emperor’s, and to God the things that are God’s.”
Sounds simple, right? Give to God the things that are God’s. But what belongs to God? Doesn’t the emperor also belong to God? And if everything belongs to God – why does God need our gifts? Our pledges? Our offerings?
Maybe God doesn’t need anything from us. Maybe we need to give, because things get squirrely when we don’t, and because we are transformed when we do.
It is tempting to see the two kinds of “giving” that Jesus talks about here as similar, parallel tracks. We owe the government our taxes to pay for the goods and services we need governments to render. We owe God our “dues” to pay for… what? Clergy and church buildings? Charity?
Once we equate giving our money and resources for God’s mission to “taxes” or “dues,” it becomes an obligation, a contractual exchange. That is not what giving is intended to be for Christians. We are not called to give to God. We are called to give in relationship with God, to give because it is the best way we know to reciprocate in gratitude for all that we’ve received, to join into the celebration of blessing.
When our giving is stunted, it may be that we are not all that grateful, not feeling very blessed. We give because it sets us free, opens us up, changes our hearts. We give because we love seeing what happens for others when we do.
Where does giving bring you the most joy? Where do you feel the least willing?
Both answers offer ground for prayer – and action. Maybe we are being invited to give additionally in both categories. Maybe we want to strengthen our gratitude muscles.
We are to give as God has given us – and in Christ, God gave us everything. The great U2 song, “With or Without You” is not about a human relationship, but the struggle to exist in faith and intimacy with the God you cannot see. (The “she” in U2 songs often refers to the Holy Spirit or to grace…)
See the stone set in your eyes See the thorn twist in your side. (A Pauline reference.)
I can’t live, with or without you,” Bono sings.
And then comes the repeated refrain which applies to both God, and to us in relationship with the God whose essential nature it is to give, a nature we gradually take on: And you give, and you give, and you give yourself away. And we never run out.
11-3-22 - The Giveaway
You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here.
I once went on a mission trip to the Rosebud Reservation in North Dakota, home to some 10,000 Sicangu Sioux, one of the seven tribes of the Lakota nation. I never imagined such poverty existed in the continental United States. The deprivation is much more marked than in urban ghettos or depressed small towns – this was poverty akin to what I’ve seen in Africa or the Caribbean.
But the Lakota have a tradition called the Giveaway. It happens for weddings and other big occasions; when someone dies; and again on the first anniversary of a death. A family invites the whole community to a pow wow and, along with providing a feast and celebration, gives away what they have – sometimes belongings of the deceased, but other things too. The idea is that no one goes away empty-handed. A gift can be a low-cost dollar store item (I still use the plastic laundry basket I was given), or something more precious, a handmade quilt or family jewelry. Even in a place of such deprivation – perhaps especially in such a place – giving is valued far beyond holding on to one’s possessions.
"Give to everyone who begs from you; and if anyone takes away your goods, do not ask for them again."
Why did Jesus highlight this attribute for those who would be his followers? Didn’t he know how hard it would be? Did he never see a city where people are begging on every corner? You’d be broke by the time you got to your office if you gave to everyone who begged from you. So the response of many, me included, is to give to almost no one who begs from me.
I don’t know why possessions came to be so important to our culture. They are to me; I don’t want to see my stuff lost or stolen, and though I have far more than I need, I’m not quick to give much away. But I can see the freedom that comes when we do hold our belongings loosely, when we are eager to give and rejoice at seeing others receive.
Perhaps Jesus is so invested in our freedom he suggests we let things go even if it’s not our idea to give. Maybe someone who takes our stuff is doing us a favor.
I don’t know if that’s what we’re meant to think. But I am pretty sure we’re meant to value people more than things. God valued us above all and gave his most precious gift to set us free. What if we started to value that freedom most?
I once went on a mission trip to the Rosebud Reservation in North Dakota, home to some 10,000 Sicangu Sioux, one of the seven tribes of the Lakota nation. I never imagined such poverty existed in the continental United States. The deprivation is much more marked than in urban ghettos or depressed small towns – this was poverty akin to what I’ve seen in Africa or the Caribbean.
But the Lakota have a tradition called the Giveaway. It happens for weddings and other big occasions; when someone dies; and again on the first anniversary of a death. A family invites the whole community to a pow wow and, along with providing a feast and celebration, gives away what they have – sometimes belongings of the deceased, but other things too. The idea is that no one goes away empty-handed. A gift can be a low-cost dollar store item (I still use the plastic laundry basket I was given), or something more precious, a handmade quilt or family jewelry. Even in a place of such deprivation – perhaps especially in such a place – giving is valued far beyond holding on to one’s possessions.
"Give to everyone who begs from you; and if anyone takes away your goods, do not ask for them again."
Why did Jesus highlight this attribute for those who would be his followers? Didn’t he know how hard it would be? Did he never see a city where people are begging on every corner? You’d be broke by the time you got to your office if you gave to everyone who begged from you. So the response of many, me included, is to give to almost no one who begs from me.
I don’t know why possessions came to be so important to our culture. They are to me; I don’t want to see my stuff lost or stolen, and though I have far more than I need, I’m not quick to give much away. But I can see the freedom that comes when we do hold our belongings loosely, when we are eager to give and rejoice at seeing others receive.
Perhaps Jesus is so invested in our freedom he suggests we let things go even if it’s not our idea to give. Maybe someone who takes our stuff is doing us a favor.
I don’t know if that’s what we’re meant to think. But I am pretty sure we’re meant to value people more than things. God valued us above all and gave his most precious gift to set us free. What if we started to value that freedom most?
12-7-21 - Greed
You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here.
How many coats is too many? Sweaters? Shoes? Cans of tuna? Does it count if the coats are old? Where is the line between thrift and greed? I fear John the Baptist would say I crossed it a long time ago.
In response to his harsh words about the judgment to come upon those who do not “bear fruit worthy of repentance,” John’s listeners were perplexed – and anxious:
How many coats is too many? Sweaters? Shoes? Cans of tuna? Does it count if the coats are old? Where is the line between thrift and greed? I fear John the Baptist would say I crossed it a long time ago.
In response to his harsh words about the judgment to come upon those who do not “bear fruit worthy of repentance,” John’s listeners were perplexed – and anxious:
And the crowds asked him, “What then should we do?” In reply he said to them, “Whoever has two coats must share with anyone who has none; and whoever has food must do likewise.”
I like stuff. I like accumulating it, and I must like storing it and moving it, because much of my stuff has been with me awhile. In fact, I look forward to one day getting some of my mother’s stuff! (Happily, she’s still enjoying it at 96…) And yet I’m also burdened by it, and deeply moved by the need of so many in the world. I suspect I’m not the only person who squirms in that cognitive dissonance.
Greed is not hard to define. It is keeping more than you need, and not sharing it with people who do need it. Almost everyone I know is complicit in a system that fosters greed, even encourages it – after all, buying things is our duty to keep the economy going, right? Except that we could as well keep the economy going by buying things for other people, people who are not related to us, who do not have the resources we have.
Part of my problem, when I am reminded of the hold greed has on me, is that I go to the “all or nothing” place. I’m not ready to downsize to a 300-square-foot tiny house and a 20-item wardrobe and give everything else away, so I guess I just stay greedy until I’m ready to change, right?
Maybe not. Maybe we try the incremental approach. Maybe we figure out some strategies to slow down our rate of accumulation and accelerate our giving to others – and by others, I mean people in genuine need, not gift-giving to our loved ones.
What if we commit to buying one item for a homeless family for every two gifts we buy this Christmas season? (Or buy a gift for a youth in foster care as part of my church’s Giving Tree… click here for the list.) What if we make an equivalent donation each time we buy something for ourselves that is not strictly needed? Even beginning to evaluate our purchases would go a long way toward making us more aware of how much we have relative to so many others. And I suspect linking our accumulation to giving would help us release a lot more.
Am I trying to take all the joy out of prosperity? No. I just think it's possible that John – and Jesus, and St. Francis and thousands of other saints over millennia – had a point. If our joy is located in our prosperity, we’re not ready to dwell in the Life of God. And when our joy is located in the Life of God… we're apt to redefine prosperity.
I like stuff. I like accumulating it, and I must like storing it and moving it, because much of my stuff has been with me awhile. In fact, I look forward to one day getting some of my mother’s stuff! (Happily, she’s still enjoying it at 96…) And yet I’m also burdened by it, and deeply moved by the need of so many in the world. I suspect I’m not the only person who squirms in that cognitive dissonance.
Greed is not hard to define. It is keeping more than you need, and not sharing it with people who do need it. Almost everyone I know is complicit in a system that fosters greed, even encourages it – after all, buying things is our duty to keep the economy going, right? Except that we could as well keep the economy going by buying things for other people, people who are not related to us, who do not have the resources we have.
Part of my problem, when I am reminded of the hold greed has on me, is that I go to the “all or nothing” place. I’m not ready to downsize to a 300-square-foot tiny house and a 20-item wardrobe and give everything else away, so I guess I just stay greedy until I’m ready to change, right?
Maybe not. Maybe we try the incremental approach. Maybe we figure out some strategies to slow down our rate of accumulation and accelerate our giving to others – and by others, I mean people in genuine need, not gift-giving to our loved ones.
What if we commit to buying one item for a homeless family for every two gifts we buy this Christmas season? (Or buy a gift for a youth in foster care as part of my church’s Giving Tree… click here for the list.) What if we make an equivalent donation each time we buy something for ourselves that is not strictly needed? Even beginning to evaluate our purchases would go a long way toward making us more aware of how much we have relative to so many others. And I suspect linking our accumulation to giving would help us release a lot more.
Am I trying to take all the joy out of prosperity? No. I just think it's possible that John – and Jesus, and St. Francis and thousands of other saints over millennia – had a point. If our joy is located in our prosperity, we’re not ready to dwell in the Life of God. And when our joy is located in the Life of God… we're apt to redefine prosperity.
11-3-21 - Giving Out of Plenty
You can listen to this reflection here.
Jesus was usually on the move, but in this week’s gospel story we see him sitting still, watching: He sat down opposite the treasury, and watched the crowd putting money into the treasury. Many rich people put in large sums. A poor widow came and put in two small copper coins, which are worth a penny.
What induced him to sit and watch people putting money into the temple treasury? He has just lambasted the scribes for their corruption, greed and exploitation of widows – maybe he wanted to see if he was proved right by their actions. All we’re told is that he watched the crowds putting money into the treasury, which is depicted as being funnel-shaped and narrow at the top, presumably so you can put coins in but not take them out.
Jesus observes a great deal of generosity - “Many rich people put in large sums.” While Jesus said it is hard for the wealthy to enter into the Life of God, and that one cannot serve both God and wealth, he never accused the wealthy of lacking generosity. He simply states a reality – wealth and faith don’t go well together. It is extremely difficult to have wealth and not put our trust in it or fear losing it. That’s what gets in the way of our relationship with God.
Giving out of plenty is pretty easy, just as is loving those who love us. Yet Jesus said, “If you love those who love you, what credit is that to you? For even sinners love those who love them. If you do good to those who do good to you, what credit is that to you? For even sinners do the same. If you lend to those from whom you hope to receive, what credit is that to you? Even sinners lend to sinners, to receive as much again. But love your enemies, do good, and lend, expecting nothing in return.” (Luke 6:32-35)
Jesus invites us to go beyond giving out of our plenty to giving even when it costs us; to give out of our harvest, our income, not only out of our savings. That widow was free of the obstacles that kept the wealthy bound. She gave it all, maybe because she had nothing to lose. When we have wealth, we have everything to lose.
Does this mean we have to give everything away? I hope not! But it may mean we are ready to give everything should we sense God’s call to do so, and to reduce our reliance upon our wealth and comfort. It may mean we ask God regularly where God would have us use our wealth, and tune our antennae to God’s response. Each of us may be faced with a need that invites us to give way beyond our comfort – and we will do it if we feel God calling us to that.
In the meantime we can build up our giving muscles by releasing more and more of our wealth, putting it into play in God’s service. This is the season when many churches are inviting members to determine how much they think they’ll give in 2022 to support God’s mission at that church. Think of this as exercise season for your generosity and trust muscles - make a pledge or an estimated annual giving amount.
How far are you willing to trust God’s provision? How excited are you to invest in what you see God doing through your congregation? How free do you want to be?
Jesus was usually on the move, but in this week’s gospel story we see him sitting still, watching: He sat down opposite the treasury, and watched the crowd putting money into the treasury. Many rich people put in large sums. A poor widow came and put in two small copper coins, which are worth a penny.
What induced him to sit and watch people putting money into the temple treasury? He has just lambasted the scribes for their corruption, greed and exploitation of widows – maybe he wanted to see if he was proved right by their actions. All we’re told is that he watched the crowds putting money into the treasury, which is depicted as being funnel-shaped and narrow at the top, presumably so you can put coins in but not take them out.
Jesus observes a great deal of generosity - “Many rich people put in large sums.” While Jesus said it is hard for the wealthy to enter into the Life of God, and that one cannot serve both God and wealth, he never accused the wealthy of lacking generosity. He simply states a reality – wealth and faith don’t go well together. It is extremely difficult to have wealth and not put our trust in it or fear losing it. That’s what gets in the way of our relationship with God.
Giving out of plenty is pretty easy, just as is loving those who love us. Yet Jesus said, “If you love those who love you, what credit is that to you? For even sinners love those who love them. If you do good to those who do good to you, what credit is that to you? For even sinners do the same. If you lend to those from whom you hope to receive, what credit is that to you? Even sinners lend to sinners, to receive as much again. But love your enemies, do good, and lend, expecting nothing in return.” (Luke 6:32-35)
Jesus invites us to go beyond giving out of our plenty to giving even when it costs us; to give out of our harvest, our income, not only out of our savings. That widow was free of the obstacles that kept the wealthy bound. She gave it all, maybe because she had nothing to lose. When we have wealth, we have everything to lose.
Does this mean we have to give everything away? I hope not! But it may mean we are ready to give everything should we sense God’s call to do so, and to reduce our reliance upon our wealth and comfort. It may mean we ask God regularly where God would have us use our wealth, and tune our antennae to God’s response. Each of us may be faced with a need that invites us to give way beyond our comfort – and we will do it if we feel God calling us to that.
In the meantime we can build up our giving muscles by releasing more and more of our wealth, putting it into play in God’s service. This is the season when many churches are inviting members to determine how much they think they’ll give in 2022 to support God’s mission at that church. Think of this as exercise season for your generosity and trust muscles - make a pledge or an estimated annual giving amount.
How far are you willing to trust God’s provision? How excited are you to invest in what you see God doing through your congregation? How free do you want to be?
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