A Bundle of Cash

Lectionary reflections for the Tenth Sunday after Pentecost (C)

By Leon Spencer

Readings for Pentecost 10, Proper 14, Year C, August 8, 2004

Isaiah 1:1, 10-20 or Genesis 15:1-6
Psalm 50:1-8, 23-24 or Psalm 33:12-22
Hebrews 11:1-3, 8-16
Luke 12:32-40

In my transition from my ministry with the Washington Office on Africa to becoming dean of a new School for Ministry in the Diocese of North Carolina, my wife and I have done pretty well financially. Our house on Capitol Hill sold quickly and profitably, and houses in Greensboro, N.C., are at a quite modest level comparatively, so we're sitting on a nice bundle of cash. It's a new experience for us.

And . . . not an altogether satisfying one. Sure, it's a good feeling to see a bit more money set aside for retirement, and a bank balance that doesn't creep dangerously to zero each month. But it's worrisome to me to see how enticing it can be to be drawn to things we've “always wanted,” and how easy it is to rationalize our current financial choices. My years in a Mennonite-style house church taught me better than this!

Jesus did too, at least when I – and we – are listening. “Sell your possessions,” Jesus tells his disciples in the reading this Sunday. We may not hear these words as profoundly as in the story of the rich young ruler, which came to us in last year's lectionary from Mark's gospel. Here we have the “distractions” of the servants' awake when the master returns from the wedding feast, and even the related words of “a treasure in the heavens” helps us to avoid the blunt imperative, sell all. At least it does for me.

My suspicion, however, is that Jesus' warnings about wealth are central to that genre of hard teachings that we ignore, rationalize, or simply wish away. And my guess is that here is a moment where Jesus meant what he said.

From a global perspective – which is how we must look at ourselves – these are riches beyond measure. Here is an instance where I, with all of my passion for a faithful voice confronting systemic injustice, slip back into a concern for our personal ethical choices.

I know that I need to take it seriously, especially with my newfound wealth. And I know that I cannot convince myself that what may be modest in the U.S.-American scheme of things is indeed modest. From a global perspective – which is how we must look at ourselves – these are riches beyond measure. Here is an instance where I, with all of my passion for a faithful voice confronting systemic injustice, slip back into a concern for our personal ethical choices. You (perhaps) and I (certainly), our Episcopal Church, and the Western church generally, need to examine again and again that uncomplicated sentence: “Sell your possessions, and give alms.”

Our attraction to wealth is more than personal, of course. The other day I was listening to NPR, where a Wall Street commentator was talking about a company that was becoming known for its good treatment of its employees and its suppliers. He made the point forcefully that this practice was contrary to the company's obligations to its shareholders. Securing the greatest wealth for investors took precedence, he reminded us, over all else.

We do the same thing with our national wealth. Talk of a “level playing field” for our companies engaged in international trade translates into driving local cotton farmers in West Africa out of production; talk about national security translates into inadequate funds to confront the global AIDS pandemic; talk about promoting innovation and initiative in the business world translates into a minimum wage that is not a living wage, and into attacks upon the right of workers to organize.

Of course there are questions of stewardship. There are issues of wealth distribution where the choices are not clear-cut. “Sell your possessions, and give alms” is not such an uncomplicated sentence after all. But we especially fail to hear the simplicity of those words if we let the next verse get us off the hook. I've probably heard more bad sermons about “for where your treasure is, there will your heart be also” than any other verse. Never mind that you possess obscene wealth, the preacher says; if your heart isn't consumed by it, it's okay.

It's not okay: Not for each of us nor for our families, not for our church, not for our nation. How we manage to read the Bible and not come away with an appreciation of how deep is God's concern about the sinfulness of wealth and about the needs of the poor, I do not know. But we do. And we need to stop.

The Rev. Leon Spencer is the dean of the Episcopal Diocese of North Carolina's new School for Ministry. H e has served in ministry in various parts of the African continent, and recently was the director of the Washington Office on Africa, for whom he wrote a bimonthly theological reflection. Leon may be reached by email at woa.lps@igc.org .