Stewardship Season

If Twitter is any indication, clergy do not enjoy preaching about stewardship. And although it’s been a while since I heard any churlish comments like “Not another sermon about money,” I doubt that parishioners enjoy these homilies either. But, being servants of Christ, we all soldier on, preach and hear about pledges and budgets, fill out our pledge cards, stuff our envelopes each Sunday, count up the offering and church goes on for another year.

I wish it were just slightly otherwise. I wish it could be actually seen as holy, joyous and right. At the offering each Sunday, we pray:

Priest: All things come of thee, O Lord,
People: And of thine own have we given thee.

This is hardly an original proclamation. It is as familiar as “the peace that passes understanding”. Nevertheless, like so much of what we pray, we don’t take it seriously.

Everything is God’s. If we think we've earned our riches, we are surely kidding ourselves. In human terms, we earn wages and dividends; perhaps we inherit stocks and property. Human arrangements, however, do not reflect God. Our homes, our food, our children are God’s. Just ask anyone who has lost a house, a livelihood or a son or daughter. Our dependence on God is not some poetic frill that we utter but do not mean. It is complete and final.

Having an opportunity to affirm this truth by offering up some of the fruits of the earth that we happen to be holding in our hands at this moment should be seized upon gladly, not grumbled over. That we are blessed with a reminder of God’s ownership of us and all that is ours is a grace, a blessing. To see that gift for what it is - is holy.

I am not suggesting that people give more than they can. Certainly, some folks are called to actual voluntary poverty, but this is not for everyone. What is for everyone, though, is the grace that comes from knowing that our gift, whether large or small or even negligible, is given in love and for love.