You can listen to this reflection here.
Reading the gospel story set for this Sunday, I’m struck by a verb the man uses in his question to Jesus. He asks, “What must I do to inherit eternal life?” Inheritances, by definition, are received, not earned. One can work at being disinherited, but generally we inherit by virtue of being in relationship to one who leaves a legacy.
Jesus offers the man a relationship. He tells him how to disencumber himself of resources that he’s relying on and truly free himself, and then to come and enter into the relationship and receive the gifts of discipleship. The man is unable to accept, and goes away grieving.
The people who have already taken Jesus up on that offer are flabbergasted at the conclusion Jesus draws from this encounter, “How hard it will be for those who have wealth to enter the kingdom of God!” “Then who can be saved?,” they ask, suddenly anxious about their own positions. Peter reminds Jesus of all they have left behind to be with him – and how does Jesus respond? By telling them about the blessings they will receive now and the inheritance to come: Jesus said, “Truly I tell you, there is no one who has left house or brothers or sisters or mother or father or children or fields, for my sake and for the sake of the good news, who will not receive a hundredfold now in this age—houses, brothers and sisters, mothers and children, and fields, with persecutions—and in the age to come eternal life. But many who are first will be last, and the last will be first.”
Taking on God-Life has pay-offs as well as challenges in this life – and in the fullness of eternity we reap further blessings. Jesus tells us that the way to come into that fullness is to let go of our temporal sources of security and follow him. And if this seems impossible, as impossible as a camel squeezing through the eye of a needle (and no, there was no narrow gate in Jerusalem – Jesus is being hyperbolic to make a point) Jesus reminds us that it is indeed impossible for us, though not for God. This God who desires to spend eternity with us will draw us in as we allow ourselves to be tethered. We're the camels in this scenario!
Can we part with our fortunes more readily if we really trust the inheritance that will be ours when none of our things and bank accounts matter anymore? Paul tells us in Ephesians that legacy is already ours, present in the power of the Spirit working through us. The Spirit is the down-payment, and we can start spending right now.
And the thing about spending that capital? It makes us less attached to the kind in our bank accounts. The more Spirit-power we spend, the freer we get. That’s the legacy of relationship with Jesus, and it never ends.
© 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.
Showing posts with label wealth. Show all posts
Showing posts with label wealth. Show all posts
10-9-24 - Give It All Away
You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here.
Very few people find their name taken into use as a verb, but Marie Kondo achieved that distinction after publishing her bestseller, The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up. I have yet to read the book, but know that one aspect of “Kondo-izing” is to go through the stuff you have accumulated – clothes, books, files, games, CDs, electronics, exercise equipment, what have you – and ask, “Does this bring me joy?” If the answer is no, gracefully toss it or help it find a new home. Asking, “Might I ever use this?” (my usual approach...) too often elicits a yes, and leaves us mired in our clutter.
I wonder if this is remotely what Jesus had in mind when he said to the man who came asking how he might inherit eternal life, “You lack one thing; go, sell what you own, and give the money to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; then come, follow me.”
Certainly Jesus's suggestion was not moderate. He instructed this man to render himself completely free of possessions – not just shedding but actually selling them and giving the money to the poor. Jesus invited him to become completely unencumbered, totally available to the winds of the Spirit to bless and work through him. Lest we think this impossible, remember that others have done it – St. Francis of Assisi, whose feast day we celebrated last Friday, was among the most notable, but many who belong to religious orders, or to denominations like the Mennonites, have done the same thing. Is there something about possessions that blocks the flow of God’s life in us?
Does Jesus ask the same of us? Or is this word given only to those who have great wealth and many possessions? That’s a risky interpretation; few of us self-describe as wealthy or think we have enough. But when we compare our standing to that of others, particularly most of the rest of the world (by a rough estimate, the poorest American is wealthier than 85% of the world’s population…), we start to see clearly just how much we have, and how much it may be standing in our way spiritually. It's not the wealth, it's where we put our security that saps our faith.
How do we start to divest ourselves? Can we do it incrementally, or must we tear off this Band-Aid all at once, as Jesus told the man in our story to do? He was unable to meet that challenge: When he heard this, he was shocked and went away grieving, for he had many possessions.
I fear I might have gone with him. I’m not ready to tear off the Band-Aid. But I am working to reposition myself relative to my goods and wealth, and move myself to greater readiness. Part of the “rule of life” I crafted on a recent clergy retreat commits me to “Spend my wealth so that others can thrive,” an invitation to not always seek the lowest price but factor in the labor practices and environmental record of the seller. It's already made me more generous in my giving as well.
I can look at all the things I have too much of, and ask not, “Does this bring me joy?” but “Does God have a use for this?” I wonder where that will lead. I don’t know. But I’m pretty sure God has a use for me, and he needs me free. You too!
© 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.
Very few people find their name taken into use as a verb, but Marie Kondo achieved that distinction after publishing her bestseller, The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up. I have yet to read the book, but know that one aspect of “Kondo-izing” is to go through the stuff you have accumulated – clothes, books, files, games, CDs, electronics, exercise equipment, what have you – and ask, “Does this bring me joy?” If the answer is no, gracefully toss it or help it find a new home. Asking, “Might I ever use this?” (my usual approach...) too often elicits a yes, and leaves us mired in our clutter.
I wonder if this is remotely what Jesus had in mind when he said to the man who came asking how he might inherit eternal life, “You lack one thing; go, sell what you own, and give the money to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; then come, follow me.”
Certainly Jesus's suggestion was not moderate. He instructed this man to render himself completely free of possessions – not just shedding but actually selling them and giving the money to the poor. Jesus invited him to become completely unencumbered, totally available to the winds of the Spirit to bless and work through him. Lest we think this impossible, remember that others have done it – St. Francis of Assisi, whose feast day we celebrated last Friday, was among the most notable, but many who belong to religious orders, or to denominations like the Mennonites, have done the same thing. Is there something about possessions that blocks the flow of God’s life in us?
Does Jesus ask the same of us? Or is this word given only to those who have great wealth and many possessions? That’s a risky interpretation; few of us self-describe as wealthy or think we have enough. But when we compare our standing to that of others, particularly most of the rest of the world (by a rough estimate, the poorest American is wealthier than 85% of the world’s population…), we start to see clearly just how much we have, and how much it may be standing in our way spiritually. It's not the wealth, it's where we put our security that saps our faith.
How do we start to divest ourselves? Can we do it incrementally, or must we tear off this Band-Aid all at once, as Jesus told the man in our story to do? He was unable to meet that challenge: When he heard this, he was shocked and went away grieving, for he had many possessions.
I fear I might have gone with him. I’m not ready to tear off the Band-Aid. But I am working to reposition myself relative to my goods and wealth, and move myself to greater readiness. Part of the “rule of life” I crafted on a recent clergy retreat commits me to “Spend my wealth so that others can thrive,” an invitation to not always seek the lowest price but factor in the labor practices and environmental record of the seller. It's already made me more generous in my giving as well.
I can look at all the things I have too much of, and ask not, “Does this bring me joy?” but “Does God have a use for this?” I wonder where that will lead. I don’t know. But I’m pretty sure God has a use for me, and he needs me free. You too!
© 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.
9-22-22 - Tickets To Paradise
You can listen to this reflection here.
What a story: Jesus introduces his main characters, a rich man who feasted sumptuously; and a poor man covered with sores, who begged at his gate. Then he promptly whisks them offstage: “The poor man died and was carried away by the angels to be with Abraham. The rich man also died and was buried.” No angels for the rich man – and no burial for the poor one, just a one-way ticket to paradise.
The rich man goes south to warmer climes. Way warmer: “In Hades, where he was being tormented, he looked up and saw Abraham far away with Lazarus by his side. He called out, `Father Abraham, have mercy on me, and send Lazarus to dip the tip of his finger in water and cool my tongue; for I am in agony in these flames.'”
Why is Jesus talking about hell? Doesn’t he know we don’t believe in that anymore? Well, if we’re going to take Jesus at his Word, we need to wrestle with the way he spoke about the afterlife. In stories and teachings, he spoke of eternal punishment – a place of torment and fire, of “outer darkness where there is weeping and gnashing of teeth.” Sure, he might have been employing folk superstitions of his day in his story-telling… or was he saying there are eternal consequences to our choices, just as there is grace to meet our short-comings?
I am more troubled by the idea that these consequences might be eternally fixed:
What a story: Jesus introduces his main characters, a rich man who feasted sumptuously; and a poor man covered with sores, who begged at his gate. Then he promptly whisks them offstage: “The poor man died and was carried away by the angels to be with Abraham. The rich man also died and was buried.” No angels for the rich man – and no burial for the poor one, just a one-way ticket to paradise.
The rich man goes south to warmer climes. Way warmer: “In Hades, where he was being tormented, he looked up and saw Abraham far away with Lazarus by his side. He called out, `Father Abraham, have mercy on me, and send Lazarus to dip the tip of his finger in water and cool my tongue; for I am in agony in these flames.'”
Why is Jesus talking about hell? Doesn’t he know we don’t believe in that anymore? Well, if we’re going to take Jesus at his Word, we need to wrestle with the way he spoke about the afterlife. In stories and teachings, he spoke of eternal punishment – a place of torment and fire, of “outer darkness where there is weeping and gnashing of teeth.” Sure, he might have been employing folk superstitions of his day in his story-telling… or was he saying there are eternal consequences to our choices, just as there is grace to meet our short-comings?
I am more troubled by the idea that these consequences might be eternally fixed:
“But Abraham said, `Child, remember that during your lifetime you received your good things, and Lazarus in like manner evil things; but now he is comforted here, and you are in agony. Besides all this, between you and us a great chasm has been fixed, so that those who might want to pass from here to you cannot do so, and no one can cross from there to us.’”
My hope in God’s mercy is that we can choose after death if we haven’t managed it before. (For a great allegorical tale about that, I recommend C.S. Lewis’ The Great Divorce.) I will continue in that hope – AND attend to the invitation to make adjustments in this life.
It might also trouble us that Jesus tells a story in which God allows someone to suffer so in this lifetime only to make them comfortable in the next. Many would ask, "Why didn’t God take care of him in this world?" To which God might answer, “I put you there. There were people with resources and hearts and free will all around him - and around all who suffer. They had choices...as do you.”
As we pray today, let’s offer thanks for the rewards we enjoy in this life and our hope for the next. Let’s invite the Spirit to give us a holy intolerance for the hell in which many of God’s children live in this world. Let’s pray our way into seeing the choices before us, and ask God to empower us into action.
Yesterday it was U2. Today I’ll give the last word to the aptly named Eddie Money:
My hope in God’s mercy is that we can choose after death if we haven’t managed it before. (For a great allegorical tale about that, I recommend C.S. Lewis’ The Great Divorce.) I will continue in that hope – AND attend to the invitation to make adjustments in this life.
It might also trouble us that Jesus tells a story in which God allows someone to suffer so in this lifetime only to make them comfortable in the next. Many would ask, "Why didn’t God take care of him in this world?" To which God might answer, “I put you there. There were people with resources and hearts and free will all around him - and around all who suffer. They had choices...as do you.”
As we pray today, let’s offer thanks for the rewards we enjoy in this life and our hope for the next. Let’s invite the Spirit to give us a holy intolerance for the hell in which many of God’s children live in this world. Let’s pray our way into seeing the choices before us, and ask God to empower us into action.
Yesterday it was U2. Today I’ll give the last word to the aptly named Eddie Money:
“I’ve got two tickets to paradise… pack your bags, we’ll leave tonight…”
God has made available unlimited tickets to paradise, and a few instructions on how to pick them up with our Travel Agent, Jesus. We can take them or leave them…
God has made available unlimited tickets to paradise, and a few instructions on how to pick them up with our Travel Agent, Jesus. We can take them or leave them…
9-21-22 - Crumbs From Our Tables
You can listen to this reflection here.
Many a lyric in a U2 song alludes to a verse of Scripture or a theological idea. Their 2004 song, Crumbs from Your Table references the parable we’re exploring this week, especially the second sentence: “And at his gate lay a poor man named Lazarus, covered with sores, who longed to satisfy his hunger with what fell from the rich man's table..."
Bono has said the song was in part a reaction to his attempts to get American evangelicals to take action on the AIDS crisis in Africa – an effort he likened to "getting blood from a stone.” As dwellers in one of the wealthiest countries on earth, and as representatives of Jesus Christ, our churches might be expected to be at the forefront of efforts to address poverty. Many church budgets, though, allocate less than 1 percent to such efforts. Would a more visible and generous engagement with the poor invite more interest in our churches and our faith? It worked for Jesus…
As that song’s chorus goes (lyrics here),
Many a lyric in a U2 song alludes to a verse of Scripture or a theological idea. Their 2004 song, Crumbs from Your Table references the parable we’re exploring this week, especially the second sentence: “And at his gate lay a poor man named Lazarus, covered with sores, who longed to satisfy his hunger with what fell from the rich man's table..."
Bono has said the song was in part a reaction to his attempts to get American evangelicals to take action on the AIDS crisis in Africa – an effort he likened to "getting blood from a stone.” As dwellers in one of the wealthiest countries on earth, and as representatives of Jesus Christ, our churches might be expected to be at the forefront of efforts to address poverty. Many church budgets, though, allocate less than 1 percent to such efforts. Would a more visible and generous engagement with the poor invite more interest in our churches and our faith? It worked for Jesus…
As that song’s chorus goes (lyrics here),
You speak of signs and wonders /I need something other /
I would believe if I was able / But I'm waiting on the crumbs from your table.
What about us? Are we cozy with a culture of wealth that leaves many of the world’s poor begging for survival? Some years ago I read this: According to the United Nations’ Food and Agriculture Organization, enough food is produced globally to feed 12 billion people. Global population now stands at 6.3 billion. So why is it that 800 million people suffer from malnutrition and 1.8 billion from obesity, and diabetes and cardiovascular disease are on the rise worldwide?
That’s a lot of “not seeing” the hungry. That's a lot of hanging on to way more than we need. How long will we tolerate that kind of disparity? We know that some efforts yield results. Way back in the 1990s, the U.N.’s Millennium Development Goals made significant progress toward reducing preventable disease and poverty. (Read about it in Bono’s 2010 New York Times editorial.)
Jesus depicts Lazarus as sick, hungry, homeless, forgotten, having no power whatsoever over his circumstances. People who suffer often need not only our resources – they need us to share power and control, a transfusion of life and hope – and yes, food. The rich man in Jesus’ parable didn’t see the beggar at his gate. Who are we missing?
Here’s a prayer experiment for today: “God, show me someone I’m not seeing.” Hold your imagination open for a few minutes – see what words or images take shape. If you get a response, ask the next question: “What shall I do with that person?” Not “for,” “with.” The Lazaruses of our world are not “beggars.” That’s not their identity. They are people with gifts and hopes and dreams and families and histories – and futures. Sometimes we can help shape what kind.
A line from Crumbs From Your Table goes, “Where you live should not decide whether you live or whether you die.” As winners in the birth lottery, and beloved of God, how are we being invited to spread the grace around?
I would believe if I was able / But I'm waiting on the crumbs from your table.
What about us? Are we cozy with a culture of wealth that leaves many of the world’s poor begging for survival? Some years ago I read this: According to the United Nations’ Food and Agriculture Organization, enough food is produced globally to feed 12 billion people. Global population now stands at 6.3 billion. So why is it that 800 million people suffer from malnutrition and 1.8 billion from obesity, and diabetes and cardiovascular disease are on the rise worldwide?
That’s a lot of “not seeing” the hungry. That's a lot of hanging on to way more than we need. How long will we tolerate that kind of disparity? We know that some efforts yield results. Way back in the 1990s, the U.N.’s Millennium Development Goals made significant progress toward reducing preventable disease and poverty. (Read about it in Bono’s 2010 New York Times editorial.)
Jesus depicts Lazarus as sick, hungry, homeless, forgotten, having no power whatsoever over his circumstances. People who suffer often need not only our resources – they need us to share power and control, a transfusion of life and hope – and yes, food. The rich man in Jesus’ parable didn’t see the beggar at his gate. Who are we missing?
Here’s a prayer experiment for today: “God, show me someone I’m not seeing.” Hold your imagination open for a few minutes – see what words or images take shape. If you get a response, ask the next question: “What shall I do with that person?” Not “for,” “with.” The Lazaruses of our world are not “beggars.” That’s not their identity. They are people with gifts and hopes and dreams and families and histories – and futures. Sometimes we can help shape what kind.
A line from Crumbs From Your Table goes, “Where you live should not decide whether you live or whether you die.” As winners in the birth lottery, and beloved of God, how are we being invited to spread the grace around?
9-16-22 - Who You Gonna Serve?
You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here.
Bob Dylan sang it: “You gotta serve somebody.” He was partly quoting Jesus: "No servant can serve two masters; for a servant will either hate the one and love the other, or be devoted to the one and despise the other. You cannot serve God and wealth."
Is this true? I know an awful lot of people who are trying like crazy to serve both – including me and the institutional church of which I am a part. Where’s the Good News for us?
Jesus tells this story about a dishonest employee who gets caught, lands on his feet and earns commendation instead of condemnation. Jesus suggests that the “children of light” are to look for eternal returns, not play the world’s games. And then we get the wrap-up:
"Whoever is faithful in a very little is faithful also in much; and whoever is dishonest in a very little is dishonest also in much. If then you have not been faithful with the dishonest wealth, who will entrust to you the true riches? And if you have not been faithful with what belongs to another, who will give you what is your own?”
Is he talking to the temple leadership, raking in fees from the bloody business of animal sacrifice? Is he talking to the Pharisees, focused on minutia of the Law instead of its heart? Is he talking to religious leaders who turn a blind eye to dishonest business practices, as the prophet Amos cried:
Bob Dylan sang it: “You gotta serve somebody.” He was partly quoting Jesus: "No servant can serve two masters; for a servant will either hate the one and love the other, or be devoted to the one and despise the other. You cannot serve God and wealth."
Is this true? I know an awful lot of people who are trying like crazy to serve both – including me and the institutional church of which I am a part. Where’s the Good News for us?
Jesus tells this story about a dishonest employee who gets caught, lands on his feet and earns commendation instead of condemnation. Jesus suggests that the “children of light” are to look for eternal returns, not play the world’s games. And then we get the wrap-up:
"Whoever is faithful in a very little is faithful also in much; and whoever is dishonest in a very little is dishonest also in much. If then you have not been faithful with the dishonest wealth, who will entrust to you the true riches? And if you have not been faithful with what belongs to another, who will give you what is your own?”
Is he talking to the temple leadership, raking in fees from the bloody business of animal sacrifice? Is he talking to the Pharisees, focused on minutia of the Law instead of its heart? Is he talking to religious leaders who turn a blind eye to dishonest business practices, as the prophet Amos cried:
“…you that trample on the needy, and bring to ruin the poor of the land…,” who “make the ephah small and the shekel great, and practice deceit with false balances?”
Is he talking to us? Can we enjoy our wealth without letting it run us? See it as God’s gift entrusted to us to nurture and grow, not ours to keep and horde? The tradition of the tithe suggests we enjoy 90 percent of what comes our way, and return 10 percent to support God's mission in the world and our communities. 90 percent – that’s pretty good!
In what areas do you feel you are being faithful with what God has entrusted to you? Give thanks for that freedom! Would you like God to give you more of any of that to nurture? Ask!
What things in your life are you anxious about, holding too tightly? Ask God to show you how those are God-given gifts, not yours to keep. Offer God your clenched hands, ask God to help you open them.
We might even visualize holding those things/people/assets in our open palms, putting them in a beautiful box without a lid, and handing them to Jesus. He's not going to take them away from us. He’s going to join us in the tending and nurturing of what we hold precious, as we allow him - just as He tends and nurtures each of us, precious to Him.
We worship a God who wants to fill our lives with blessings. We need open hands to receive those gifts. We need open minds to imagine the grace that commends us, even when our performance isn’t so good. We need open hearts to love even a fraction as much as we are loved. That’s the wealth that is God – we can serve that whole-heartedly.
Is he talking to us? Can we enjoy our wealth without letting it run us? See it as God’s gift entrusted to us to nurture and grow, not ours to keep and horde? The tradition of the tithe suggests we enjoy 90 percent of what comes our way, and return 10 percent to support God's mission in the world and our communities. 90 percent – that’s pretty good!
In what areas do you feel you are being faithful with what God has entrusted to you? Give thanks for that freedom! Would you like God to give you more of any of that to nurture? Ask!
What things in your life are you anxious about, holding too tightly? Ask God to show you how those are God-given gifts, not yours to keep. Offer God your clenched hands, ask God to help you open them.
We might even visualize holding those things/people/assets in our open palms, putting them in a beautiful box without a lid, and handing them to Jesus. He's not going to take them away from us. He’s going to join us in the tending and nurturing of what we hold precious, as we allow him - just as He tends and nurtures each of us, precious to Him.
We worship a God who wants to fill our lives with blessings. We need open hands to receive those gifts. We need open minds to imagine the grace that commends us, even when our performance isn’t so good. We need open hearts to love even a fraction as much as we are loved. That’s the wealth that is God – we can serve that whole-heartedly.
9-12-22 - Business Ethics
You can listen to this reflection here.
Jesus didn’t name his parables – he just told them. Later, people who put bibles together added headings and titles – which often obscure as much as they highlight. Why name the story about the man and his two sons “The Prodigal Son,” instead of “The Merciful Father” or “The Resentful Brother?” Any name limits our view of the parable.
Parables are multi-faceted – you look at one head on, it appears to say one thing; you turn it just slightly, or look from the perspective of another character and, “Whoa, I never noticed that before…” And then there are some that, no matter how many ways you turn, it’s hard to grasp just what Jesus was saying. So it is with this week's parable, sometimes called “The Shrewd Manager,” and sometimes “The Dishonest Steward.” Both? Yeah. So let’s forget titles and look at the story:
A rich man finds out his caretaker is squandering his estate. He calls him in, chews him out, and demands an accounting. The manager realizes he’s about to be fired. He doesn’t want to do manual work or beg – so he cooks up a scheme. He calls in the man’s debtors and lowers each one’s bill if he’ll pay up now. So now he has some income to show the boss; the debtors get a deal; and the manager buys himself some friends. Oh – and, Jesus says, the boss commends him for his savvy. What?? And why is Jesus telling a story of ledgers and balances and P&L statements? Isn’t accounting a little out of his wheelhouse as a religious leader?
The gospels show that Jesus talked about finance and how we use and get used by our money more than any other subject, way more than he spoke about sexuality or peace or even justice. Because he knew that our relationship with money speaks volumes about our level of faith and trust and openness to the grace of God. And because money and managers are great metaphors for understanding our relationship to the gifts God gives us to enjoy and invest.
How would you describe your relationship with money?
(easy / trusting / anxious / clinging / generous / organized / playful / indifferent / attached / )
Today, in prayer, invite Jesus into all parts of your financial life. If your relationship with money is not as easy as you’d like, pray about that. Tell God your anxieties. We’re called to be un-anxious – and sometimes we have to name our worries so we can let go of them.
Jesus told his followers they were no longer servants but friends. We can afford to look at our records as stewards without fear of being “fired” – and in the security of an awesome, eternal retirement plan.
Jesus didn’t name his parables – he just told them. Later, people who put bibles together added headings and titles – which often obscure as much as they highlight. Why name the story about the man and his two sons “The Prodigal Son,” instead of “The Merciful Father” or “The Resentful Brother?” Any name limits our view of the parable.
Parables are multi-faceted – you look at one head on, it appears to say one thing; you turn it just slightly, or look from the perspective of another character and, “Whoa, I never noticed that before…” And then there are some that, no matter how many ways you turn, it’s hard to grasp just what Jesus was saying. So it is with this week's parable, sometimes called “The Shrewd Manager,” and sometimes “The Dishonest Steward.” Both? Yeah. So let’s forget titles and look at the story:
A rich man finds out his caretaker is squandering his estate. He calls him in, chews him out, and demands an accounting. The manager realizes he’s about to be fired. He doesn’t want to do manual work or beg – so he cooks up a scheme. He calls in the man’s debtors and lowers each one’s bill if he’ll pay up now. So now he has some income to show the boss; the debtors get a deal; and the manager buys himself some friends. Oh – and, Jesus says, the boss commends him for his savvy. What?? And why is Jesus telling a story of ledgers and balances and P&L statements? Isn’t accounting a little out of his wheelhouse as a religious leader?
The gospels show that Jesus talked about finance and how we use and get used by our money more than any other subject, way more than he spoke about sexuality or peace or even justice. Because he knew that our relationship with money speaks volumes about our level of faith and trust and openness to the grace of God. And because money and managers are great metaphors for understanding our relationship to the gifts God gives us to enjoy and invest.
How would you describe your relationship with money?
(easy / trusting / anxious / clinging / generous / organized / playful / indifferent / attached / )
Today, in prayer, invite Jesus into all parts of your financial life. If your relationship with money is not as easy as you’d like, pray about that. Tell God your anxieties. We’re called to be un-anxious – and sometimes we have to name our worries so we can let go of them.
Jesus told his followers they were no longer servants but friends. We can afford to look at our records as stewards without fear of being “fired” – and in the security of an awesome, eternal retirement plan.
7-6-22 - Neighbors
You can listen to this reflection here.
It is no surprise that Jesus’ interlocutor in this week's gospel story is identified as a lawyer – first thing he does is look for the loophole. That’s no diss on lawyers – it’s what they’re paid to do. And it’s human nature to categorize and define, to narrow the field so that we can manage things. It can also keep us from living into the heart of God’s commandments.
But wanting to justify himself, he asked Jesus, “And who is my neighbor?” Jesus replied, “A man was going down from Jerusalem to Jericho, and fell into the hands of robbers, who stripped him, beat him, and went away, leaving him half dead.”
What do you suppose the man was hoping to hear? Your neighbor is the person who looks like you? Who shares your ethnicity? Your family heritage? Your lifestyle? Socio-economic bracket? National identity? That’s how some people define “neighbor,” so they can justify devoting their resources to their own kind. That is how the bulk of the wealth in our country has ended up in the bank accounts of a relatively small percentage of the population, while we have a serious problem with poverty and hunger.
In reply, Jesus begins to tell a story about a man who was beaten, robbed and left for dead on a notoriously dangerous road. I wonder what the man thought about that response to his question. “Is he saying my neighbor is anyone who is victimized? How extensive is my obligation to such folks? He made the foolish choice to do business on that road, and to go alone… If such a man is my neighbor, where does it stop? Where can I draw the line and still be in God’s will?”
As we will see, a few people in the story draw the line rather close, and one seems not to draw one at all, giving well beyond expectations. But how about us? How do we decide who we will help and how much? There is no right or wrong answer – it’s just good for us to know how we define neighbors, and what criteria we use to evaluate whether or when to offer help. Some people will give generously to total strangers in the event of a natural disaster, and refuse all help to the poor in their own towns. We all approach it differently.
The point of examining ourselves on this question is not to instill guilt or even to suggest guidelines. The point is to become more aware of our default positions, and invite the Holy Spirit into our decision-making processes. You tell God who you think your neighbor is, and is not; then ask God to tell you who God thinks your neighbor is.
Our responses will likely still have limits according to our tendencies and our capacity for giving. I hope that as we explore this rich story, though, we will become freed from self-imposed limits, and expand our vision of what it means to have and to be a neighbor.
It is no surprise that Jesus’ interlocutor in this week's gospel story is identified as a lawyer – first thing he does is look for the loophole. That’s no diss on lawyers – it’s what they’re paid to do. And it’s human nature to categorize and define, to narrow the field so that we can manage things. It can also keep us from living into the heart of God’s commandments.
But wanting to justify himself, he asked Jesus, “And who is my neighbor?” Jesus replied, “A man was going down from Jerusalem to Jericho, and fell into the hands of robbers, who stripped him, beat him, and went away, leaving him half dead.”
What do you suppose the man was hoping to hear? Your neighbor is the person who looks like you? Who shares your ethnicity? Your family heritage? Your lifestyle? Socio-economic bracket? National identity? That’s how some people define “neighbor,” so they can justify devoting their resources to their own kind. That is how the bulk of the wealth in our country has ended up in the bank accounts of a relatively small percentage of the population, while we have a serious problem with poverty and hunger.
In reply, Jesus begins to tell a story about a man who was beaten, robbed and left for dead on a notoriously dangerous road. I wonder what the man thought about that response to his question. “Is he saying my neighbor is anyone who is victimized? How extensive is my obligation to such folks? He made the foolish choice to do business on that road, and to go alone… If such a man is my neighbor, where does it stop? Where can I draw the line and still be in God’s will?”
As we will see, a few people in the story draw the line rather close, and one seems not to draw one at all, giving well beyond expectations. But how about us? How do we decide who we will help and how much? There is no right or wrong answer – it’s just good for us to know how we define neighbors, and what criteria we use to evaluate whether or when to offer help. Some people will give generously to total strangers in the event of a natural disaster, and refuse all help to the poor in their own towns. We all approach it differently.
The point of examining ourselves on this question is not to instill guilt or even to suggest guidelines. The point is to become more aware of our default positions, and invite the Holy Spirit into our decision-making processes. You tell God who you think your neighbor is, and is not; then ask God to tell you who God thinks your neighbor is.
Our responses will likely still have limits according to our tendencies and our capacity for giving. I hope that as we explore this rich story, though, we will become freed from self-imposed limits, and expand our vision of what it means to have and to be a neighbor.
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?
10-7-21 - No Easy Way In
You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here.
Very little shocks us these days. Sex, violence, prejudice, outrageous discourse are all commonplace. But talk about money and how wealth is distributed? The temperature rises quickly.
It wasn’t so different in Jesus’ day. When Jesus told a man who came to him seeking eternal life that he should sell everything he owned, give the proceeds to the poor, and then become his disciple, he went away shocked. And so did Jesus’ followers who watched this encounter unfold.
Then Jesus looked around and said to his disciples, “How hard it will be for those who have wealth to enter the kingdom of God!” And the disciples were perplexed at these words. But Jesus said to them again, “Children, how hard it is to enter the kingdom of God! 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.”
Were they shocked that he let such a promising recruit get away? Or that he would say such a thing about the wealthy? In that culture (as in ours…) prosperity was seen as a sign of God’s blessing and favor. How could it impede full participation in the life of God?
This gives us pause as well. Have we examined the ways in which our wealth and worldly security stands in the way of our putting all our trust in Christ’s grace and love (which Episcopalians promise to do in our baptismal vows…)? Often we respond to the discomfort we feel encountering these words of Jesus by trying to give our way to feeling okay. "Yeah, but, look at how much I give away..." That ain’t a bad thing… but it’s not what Jesus is talking about. I suspect his concern is what the accumulation does for and to us.
Thankfully, this greatly challenging passage ends with a reminder of grace: They were greatly astounded and said to one another, “Then who can be saved?” Jesus looked at them and said, “For mortals it is impossible, but not for God; for God all things are possible.”
For God all things are possible. We experience that as we let go and trust God and the power of the Spirit working in, around and through us. Let’s start there, and see how Love might loosen our grip on our wealth.
Very little shocks us these days. Sex, violence, prejudice, outrageous discourse are all commonplace. But talk about money and how wealth is distributed? The temperature rises quickly.
It wasn’t so different in Jesus’ day. When Jesus told a man who came to him seeking eternal life that he should sell everything he owned, give the proceeds to the poor, and then become his disciple, he went away shocked. And so did Jesus’ followers who watched this encounter unfold.
Then Jesus looked around and said to his disciples, “How hard it will be for those who have wealth to enter the kingdom of God!” And the disciples were perplexed at these words. But Jesus said to them again, “Children, how hard it is to enter the kingdom of God! 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.”
Were they shocked that he let such a promising recruit get away? Or that he would say such a thing about the wealthy? In that culture (as in ours…) prosperity was seen as a sign of God’s blessing and favor. How could it impede full participation in the life of God?
This gives us pause as well. Have we examined the ways in which our wealth and worldly security stands in the way of our putting all our trust in Christ’s grace and love (which Episcopalians promise to do in our baptismal vows…)? Often we respond to the discomfort we feel encountering these words of Jesus by trying to give our way to feeling okay. "Yeah, but, look at how much I give away..." That ain’t a bad thing… but it’s not what Jesus is talking about. I suspect his concern is what the accumulation does for and to us.
Thankfully, this greatly challenging passage ends with a reminder of grace: They were greatly astounded and said to one another, “Then who can be saved?” Jesus looked at them and said, “For mortals it is impossible, but not for God; for God all things are possible.”
For God all things are possible. We experience that as we let go and trust God and the power of the Spirit working in, around and through us. Let’s start there, and see how Love might loosen our grip on our wealth.
10-6-21 - Give It All Away
You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here.
Very few people find their name taken into use as a verb, but Marie Kondo achieved that distinction after publishing her bestseller, The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up. I have yet to read the book, but know that one aspect of “Marie Kondo-ing” or “Kondo-izing” is to go through the piles of stuff you have accumulated – clothes, books, files, games, CDs, electronics, exercise equipment, what have you – and ask, “Does this bring me joy?” If the answer is no, gracefully toss it or help it find a new home. Asking, “Might I ever use this?” (my usual approach...) too often elicits a yes, and leaves us mired in our clutter.
I wonder if this is remotely what Jesus had in mind when he said to the man who came asking how he might inherit eternal life, “You lack one thing; go, sell what you own, and give the money to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; then come, follow me.”
Certainly Jesus's suggestion was not moderate. He instructed this man to render himself completely free of possessions – not just shedding but actually selling them and giving the money to the poor. Jesus invited him to become completely unencumbered, totally available to the winds of the Spirit to bless and work through him. And lest we think this insane, remember that others have done it – St. Francis of Assisi, whose feast day we celebrated Monday, was among the most notable, but many who belong to religious orders, or to denominations like the Mennonites, have done the same thing. Is there something about possessions that blocks the flow of God’s life in us?
Does Jesus ask the same of us? Or is this word given only to those who have great wealth and many possessions? Oh, that’s a dangerous tack to take; few of us self-describe as wealthy or think we have enough. But when we compare our standing to that of others, particularly most of the rest of the world (by a rough estimate, the poorest American is wealthier than 85% of the world’s population…), we start to see clearly just how much we have, and how much it may be standing in our way spiritually. It's not the wealth, it's where we put our security that saps our faith.
How do we start to divest ourselves? Can we do it incrementally, or must we tear off this bandaid all at once, as Jesus told the man in our story to do?
He was unable to meet that challenge: When he heard this, he was shocked and went away grieving, for he had many possessions.
I fear I might have gone with him. I’m not ready to tear off the bandaid. But I’m willing to reposition myself relative to my goods and wealth, and move myself to greater readiness. I can start with the things I have too much of, and ask not, “Does this bring me joy?” but “Does God have a use for this?”
I wonder where that will lead me. I don’t know. I'm not sure how much progress I've made in the six years since I first declared that intention. But I am pretty sure God has a use for me, and he needs me free. You too!
Very few people find their name taken into use as a verb, but Marie Kondo achieved that distinction after publishing her bestseller, The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up. I have yet to read the book, but know that one aspect of “Marie Kondo-ing” or “Kondo-izing” is to go through the piles of stuff you have accumulated – clothes, books, files, games, CDs, electronics, exercise equipment, what have you – and ask, “Does this bring me joy?” If the answer is no, gracefully toss it or help it find a new home. Asking, “Might I ever use this?” (my usual approach...) too often elicits a yes, and leaves us mired in our clutter.
I wonder if this is remotely what Jesus had in mind when he said to the man who came asking how he might inherit eternal life, “You lack one thing; go, sell what you own, and give the money to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; then come, follow me.”
Certainly Jesus's suggestion was not moderate. He instructed this man to render himself completely free of possessions – not just shedding but actually selling them and giving the money to the poor. Jesus invited him to become completely unencumbered, totally available to the winds of the Spirit to bless and work through him. And lest we think this insane, remember that others have done it – St. Francis of Assisi, whose feast day we celebrated Monday, was among the most notable, but many who belong to religious orders, or to denominations like the Mennonites, have done the same thing. Is there something about possessions that blocks the flow of God’s life in us?
Does Jesus ask the same of us? Or is this word given only to those who have great wealth and many possessions? Oh, that’s a dangerous tack to take; few of us self-describe as wealthy or think we have enough. But when we compare our standing to that of others, particularly most of the rest of the world (by a rough estimate, the poorest American is wealthier than 85% of the world’s population…), we start to see clearly just how much we have, and how much it may be standing in our way spiritually. It's not the wealth, it's where we put our security that saps our faith.
How do we start to divest ourselves? Can we do it incrementally, or must we tear off this bandaid all at once, as Jesus told the man in our story to do?
He was unable to meet that challenge: When he heard this, he was shocked and went away grieving, for he had many possessions.
I fear I might have gone with him. I’m not ready to tear off the bandaid. But I’m willing to reposition myself relative to my goods and wealth, and move myself to greater readiness. I can start with the things I have too much of, and ask not, “Does this bring me joy?” but “Does God have a use for this?”
I wonder where that will lead me. I don’t know. I'm not sure how much progress I've made in the six years since I first declared that intention. But I am pretty sure God has a use for me, and he needs me free. You too!
10-5-21 - The Look of Love
You can listen to this reflection here.
I admit it. When I read this familiar passage, that Dionne Warwick song often starts up in my head. It’s the thing about “Jesus looked at him with love” that does it. (Irreverent, these internal soundtracks…) Here we have a man who’s come to Jesus asking “What must I do to inherit eternal life?” After establishing that he knows and keeps the commandments perfectly, Jesus does this:
Jesus, looking at him, loved him and said, "You lack one thing; go, sell what you own, and give the money to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; then come, follow me."
The man is shocked and dismayed by this message, as I suspect most of us would be. But it’s not given in a vacuum. It is a message grounded in great love, delivered to this man who is so close to God. If only the love had rung louder for him than the severity of the demand. But all the love in the world cannot redirect us if we cannot let it in, and for whatever reason, that man’s allegiance to his wealth and goods, and maybe the security they afforded him, blocked out the love Jesus directed to him.
What keeps God’s great love from getting in and transforming our interior landscapes? Sometimes it is blocked by alternate messages we’ve received from the world, family, school, careers, or by a self-sufficiency which comes hardwired in members of deeply individualistic cultures. The lure of worldly success and short-term gain can also impede the flow of that love to us.
And what can help us to lower our barriers and let it in when we do? Sometimes it isn’t until we see how short that short-term gain really is that we’re ready to open ourselves up to something deeper, less immediately accessible. And sometimes it is because someone comes along and insists on loving us despite our barriers. I think Jesus invited that man to part from all his wealth and success and follow him so he could offer him transformative love in relationship. That’s the offer he makes all of us, too – the invitation to follow and draw near, love and be loved in a way that changes us.
It’s hard when we don’t have Jesus standing right in front of us, right? Or would that make any difference? Maybe Jesus has sent representatives to bear his love to us, and we’re missing the offer.
The gospels never tell us what became of this man. Did he reconsider Jesus’ offer and take him up on it at a later time? Did it change his relationship to his wealth and power? I imagine that could only happen if he were able to take in the love Jesus offered him in that look. Only that love can change our hearts. Only that love can change the world.
I admit it. When I read this familiar passage, that Dionne Warwick song often starts up in my head. It’s the thing about “Jesus looked at him with love” that does it. (Irreverent, these internal soundtracks…) Here we have a man who’s come to Jesus asking “What must I do to inherit eternal life?” After establishing that he knows and keeps the commandments perfectly, Jesus does this:
Jesus, looking at him, loved him and said, "You lack one thing; go, sell what you own, and give the money to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; then come, follow me."
The man is shocked and dismayed by this message, as I suspect most of us would be. But it’s not given in a vacuum. It is a message grounded in great love, delivered to this man who is so close to God. If only the love had rung louder for him than the severity of the demand. But all the love in the world cannot redirect us if we cannot let it in, and for whatever reason, that man’s allegiance to his wealth and goods, and maybe the security they afforded him, blocked out the love Jesus directed to him.
What keeps God’s great love from getting in and transforming our interior landscapes? Sometimes it is blocked by alternate messages we’ve received from the world, family, school, careers, or by a self-sufficiency which comes hardwired in members of deeply individualistic cultures. The lure of worldly success and short-term gain can also impede the flow of that love to us.
And what can help us to lower our barriers and let it in when we do? Sometimes it isn’t until we see how short that short-term gain really is that we’re ready to open ourselves up to something deeper, less immediately accessible. And sometimes it is because someone comes along and insists on loving us despite our barriers. I think Jesus invited that man to part from all his wealth and success and follow him so he could offer him transformative love in relationship. That’s the offer he makes all of us, too – the invitation to follow and draw near, love and be loved in a way that changes us.
It’s hard when we don’t have Jesus standing right in front of us, right? Or would that make any difference? Maybe Jesus has sent representatives to bear his love to us, and we’re missing the offer.
The gospels never tell us what became of this man. Did he reconsider Jesus’ offer and take him up on it at a later time? Did it change his relationship to his wealth and power? I imagine that could only happen if he were able to take in the love Jesus offered him in that look. Only that love can change our hearts. Only that love can change the world.
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