I am often amused at the apocalyptic
claims that the world has begun to infiltrate the Church. In light of recent events in the world, there
is sometimes an attempt to generate a hysteria among “good Christians” about
whatever particular issue. In more
recent weeks, these pleas have centered upon marriage and gun control, but
other areas have served as the foci.
Just a couple weeks ago I received a claim desperate for money because
the administration had declared that “Any soldier who professes Christianity
can now be court-martialed and may face imprisonment and even a dishonorable
discharge from the military.” The claim
went on to say that even military chaplains were now subject to this new
policy. The claim, of course, was in
bold print, which meant it was as certain as anything found on the
internet. Why are you all laughing?
I have in the past received letters from
organizations purporting to be working hard to fight any number of evils in the
communities in which I have served. And
just when I think I have seen it all, just when I am convinced humanity has
sunk to a new all time low, I tend to get a new one. It is incredible to me how many people,
claiming to be faithful, will prey upon the gullibility of the masses and the
people in the pews. No doubt some of us
respond convinced of these truth claims.
I guess enough of us respond to make this an effective way of doing
ministry or business, but I really shake my head at the hysteria of the claims.
One of the reasons I tend to be less
worried about society trying to overtake the Church is the simple fact that I
am a classicist. In some ways, the
greatest even in the history of Christendom, after the Empty Tomb, was the
conversion of Constantine. In the
profession of a ruler, Christianity went from being persecuted to being
promoted, from being on the fringes of society to being in the center of power,
from being poor to beginning the greatest capital campaign the world has ever
seen. Of course, in some ways the worst
thing to happen to Christianity since our Lord’s Resurrection was the
conversion of Constantine. Constantine,
and nearly every ruler who followed, demanded good order in the Church. Sometimes, that order was brought about at
sword point. Our forebears took it upon
themselves to build great edifices to God’s glory. But, some of our brothers and sisters,
particularly those in older buildings in less than desirable locations, deal
with the maintenance costs month in and month out. And who really has time to preach on the ties
that developed between the political leaders and the religious leaders over the
last couple thousand years? Life is
complicated, as is the Church’s relationship to the world.
Another reason that I tend to be less
worried about society trying to overtake the Church is found in Mark’s Gospel
today. It is a hard thing to be a
disciple of Christ. Jesus Himself
describes it as cross-bearing. But we
want it to be comfortable. We want it to
be easy. It always amazes me how those
new to the corporate world think that there is an easy way to the top. As an assistant manager in a brokerage firm,
one of my primary jobs was to train new brokers. Now, you all have come to know me well enough
to realize I am not a huge fan of wasting your or my time. Again, why are there chuckles? Imagine me in a less-pastoral role. Frightening, isn’t it? Every moment I spent on a broker that did not
succeed was a waste of my time. At
worst, I could be dealing with my customers.
At best, those whom I hired could be making lots of money so that my
manager and I could make more money. In
between I could be at home with Karen and the kids or out on the golf course
with colleagues or clients. I see the
nods. Other businesses, particularly
those dependent upon sales, work the same way.
I used to tell potential brokers that the
job was anything but sexy and fun the first few years. Every day they would talk to three hundred
people. Two hundred eighty of those
people would never want to hear from them again. Of the twenty that did, maybe two would give
them a shot to earn their business. I
see the math happening in your heads.
You used to think being a broker was glamorous work, didn’t you? Those that survive in the business simply get
a thick skin. We get used to rejection. Over and over we are told no. And even if we are told yes, we still have to
hope that the men and women running the companies are playing by the spirit of
the investment laws. People get mad at
brokers even if the companies run afoul of the SEC. Even if we do our jobs the best that one can
expect, clients fire us over things outside our control. And so we continue to grind it, to work like
apes on a treadmill.
Invariably, I would be told by a new
broker they had a better idea for how to succeed in the business. Never mind the fact that in capitalism
imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.
The new broker would have a short cut or idea. Some would be blatantly illegal; most just
were the products of trying to get a return on the least amount of work
invested. I get it. It is human nature. Some would eventually learn that what
separated them from the broker making a nice living was not that they were
geniuses, not that they were gifted businessmen and women, not that they had
the “right” chart, but that they were hard workers. Those that learned typically succeeded; those
that did not left or were let go. Human
nature is human nature.
Our story from Mark this morning touches
on this infiltration of culture and on the condition of humanity. A man comes up to Jesus and asks the Good
Teacher what he must do to inherit eternal life. Jesus knows when someone is fishing for a
compliment. A lot of us in some kind of
authority know when someone is fishing for a compliment. Jesus reminds the man that only God is
good. Since no one understands He is the
God-Man, the irony is lost on the man and on those within earshot. Jesus plunges on and reminds the man of the torah.
Upon hearing this, we can almost hear the man’s heart burst with
pride. Teacher, all these I have kept since I was a boy. Then comes the spiritual wedgie. Jesus looked at him, loved him, and said,
“One thing you lack, Go. Sell everything
you have and give to the poor and you will have treasure in heaven.” Mark tells us that the man’s face fell and
that he went away sad, because he had great wealth.
Why was the man there to question
Jesus? We do not know. Mark gives us no answer to that
question. Perhaps the man knew deep down
he was doing something wrong and needed to hear an escape clause. Maybe, like some of us, he just wanted to be
affirmed for who he was. Certainly he
was sincere. When the man proudly
proclaims he has kept the torah since his youth, Jesus does not begin drawing
his sins in the dirt or accusing him of his failures. No, Jesus tells the man quite simply the one
thing he lacks.
Mark does relate to us that the disciples
were amazed at Jesus’ words to them.
Jesus tells them that it is incredibly hard for the rich to enter the
kingdom of God. Why is that? Part of that makes sense on an intuitive
level, particularly those of us living in a capitalist society such as our
own. Those who run businesses are often
trying to squeeze every last penny of profit out of every dollar of revenue. It makes sense as capitalist. But does it as a Christian? I can remember as a broker the consolidation
of many of the restaurants during the nineties into publicly traded
conglomerates. Weird restaurants seemed
to be being bunched together. There was
this weird private restaurant, though, that Wall Street wanted to bring
public. They were not nearly as famous
for their “spokescows” then as they are now.
One thing that drove some bankers nuts was the CEO’s unwillingness to
budge on the pledge to stay closed on Sundays.
Chick-Fil-A’s gross margins were a couple points higher than all their
comparables. If the CEO would simply
open on Sundays, Chick-Fil-A would easily be the most profitable of that sector
of fast food. Better still, whoever
landed that IPO was going to make a killing!
The CEO drove them nuts with his
rigidness. His increased productivity,
he felt, was precisely because he tried to run his business more biblically. Being open on the Sabbath was a non-starter. Even if his employees never went to church,
maybe they would spend time with their families. Even if they never went to church or spent
time with their families, maybe they would use the time to pursue hobbies and
other interests. Even if his employees
did nothing but watch football and sleep on Sunday’s, at least they would be
well-rested. The CEO understood that
rest is important for mental, physical, and spiritual health, even if his employees
did not. Rested and happy employees
makes for increased productivity. The
CEO understood that if he made the changes suggested by bankers, he would lose
the advantage they were seeking to promote.
Is Chick-Fil-A a Christian business?
No doubt if we spent some time we could probably find a fault or two in
the execution of their business plan. Maybe
we could even find a few faults with the plan itself. But I like to think that their nuggets give
us a glimpse, however shadowy, of the finger foods that will precede the great
Feast! But I think their CEO understands
something that we in the Church all too often forget.
We claim as Christians to serve a God who
created all things. We claim to serve a
God who placed us in His creation as stewards.
Then we go about our daily lives and work often acting as if the things
we are stewarding are really our own and not His. We forget that we follow a God who relates to
us as our loving Father in heaven, except for those times we find ourselves in
church. And we wonder why the rest of
the world begins to ignore our testimony.
The world does not ignore it; they follow it. He or she who dies with the most toys
wins! And we modern Americans are not
alone. When Jesus walked the earth, the
rabbis specifically forbade what He commanded of this man in the story today. Scripture is filled with the spiritual
dangers associated with wealth; yet the rabbis decided they knew better than
God. No one was allowed to give away
more than 20% of one’s wealth because the rabbis did not want someone to become
penniless or a burden to others. Jesus
is speaking into this very idea that we should trust in ourselves, in our efforts,
in our acumen, in our own storehouses.
I know that many of us sitting here this
morning are blessed with great resources.
I know that the preacher’s discussion of money from the pulpit can seem
crass or rude or downright ridiculous.
But place yourself in the position of the man in today’s encounter. If Jesus told you the only thing you lacked
was to sell everything and help the poor, how would you respond? Would the idea of helping others and facing
persecution in light of eternal rewards and salvation make the following
struggle seem inconsequential? Or would
you walk away with your face down? Would
you have to weigh the pros and cons? My
guess is that more than a few of us might decide to enter into an argument with
Jesus. We love to wrestle with God, so I
am sure a few of us would be saying “Now wait just a cotton picking moment,
Jesus, don’t You know . . . “ And we are
not alone in those sentiments at Advent.
We belong to a denomination that is
thought to be made up of the elite in America, but whose churches and diocese
struggle to balance budgets. Why? We elect (or nominate those who fail to show
up at Parish Annual Meetings) representatives to serve on a Vestry. We should be voting for those whom we respect
in their spiritual life, their walk, with God.
We ask them to run the business side of the church and keep the priest “in
check.” Then, when the Vestry comes back
to the parish and says this is what we need to subsist, the second-guessing
really begins. I think we are overpaying our clergy—they only work one day a
week. I don’t know that the yard needs
to be mown as often as it does—sure, my yard needs it, but the church does
not. Why do we give to the diocese? They just pay bloated salaries. Can’t
the music director work for free? Can’t
the teenagers cover the nursery?
Yes, a long time ago in a galaxy far, far away, I shared those same
thoughts. I can laugh now because I know
how ridiculous I sounded in God’s eyes, and certainly to Karen. In the beginning, we were starving
grad-student newlyweds. We gave maybe
$500-$1000 to our parish. I sat in pews
just like these at Advent and argued whether our $500 was being spent wisely. You would have thought, listening to me, that
God would never be able to find another $500 in the whole universe, if I wasn’t
satisfied the money was being well-spent.
And I am not saying that we should not ask questions and discern in
community. But, if you voted for eight
or nine or ten of the members serving the Vestry, and if you think they are
competent men and women, and if you think they have been discerning these same
questions, why do we fight with them so much?
Why do we act as if they lost all their marbles when it came time to set
a budget? And why do we act as if we are
the owners and not the stewards God created us to be? Whose money, whose property, are we hoarding?
Want to think of something
uncomfortable? How should we really be
budgeting? What if we went around to all
the members of the parish and asked how much they were giving, that the numbers
offered would be our budget? Would good
enough keep the lights on? The doors
open?
I have skirted a line this morning. I know that in Episcopal circles we tend to
place greater emphasis on economic success than spiritual success. I understand that most of us go to work in a
culture that is materialistic and every bit the master of those who would be
its slaves. I also understand that when
we preachers speak about the subject of wealth and its place in our hearts and
in God’s economy, we can sound like we are berating or condemning. Some maybe are. Not all of us have sat where you sat; not all
of us have served the same masters as have you.
I intend neither. Jesus looked on
the man and loved him. Loved him. Just as Jesus looked on the blind, the lame,
the deaf, the lepers, and everyone else, he looked on the rich man in
love. But in that loving look, Jesus
also saw through to the man’s heart. The
man lacked trust in God and he lacked compassion for others. The man did a great job of keeping the letter
of the torah, but he failed to grasp its true purpose.
Discipleship requires two significant
qualities in the believer. First, we
must trust God. It is all fine and well
and good for us to bow at the name of Jesus or tell our friends that God will
save us from our sins, but what Jesus is looking for in discipleship is
trust. Picking up our cross and
following Him means that we expose ourselves to the changes and chances of the
future, that we become dependent upon our Father as a child. We live in a world that tells us we are our
own masters, that we are captains of our own ships, that we have the right to
have it our way; yet nothing could be further from the eternal truth of
God! Trusting God means that we
recognize not just His right to us, but that He will follow through in His commitment
to us. Yes, bad things will happen. Paul describes it as a spiritual battle. But we are not the suppliers for this cosmic
battle; we are not the owners of this fight.
We don’t need the storehouses, because He has access to The Storehouse.
The
second quality required of a believer is compassion. You and I are called to remember who we are
and from what we were saved. That spirit
of joyful thanksgiving is supposed to be the fire that drives our internal
engines. What the man in our story kept
out of legalism, you and I do in joyful thanksgiving. To outward appearances we look the same. Inwardly, though, there is quite a
distinction. We serve a Lord who had
compassion on the crowds because they were like sheep without a shepherd; we
serve a Lord who, in His encounters with people like you and me, gave willingly
of His time and power; we serve a Lord who went even to the Cross for us while
we were yet His enemy. How can we then
claim to love others as ourselves and still argue with God over the
appropriateness of His call on us, not just His call on our money, but His call
on our time and our skills? If we choose
the answer of the rich man, we are not really disciples. Let us pray that in our future encounters
with our Lord, we would all respond as a disciple worthy of Him who laid down His
life that we might share in His glory for all eternity.
In
Christ’s Peace,
Brian†
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