It must have been a heady
and exciting time to be a follower of Jesus in Jerusalem during those early
weeks after the Resurrection. Rumor that
Jesus was alive spread like soft butter on hotcakes. The Apostles, fueled by the power of the Holy
Spirit, could not stop preaching and teaching and healing. Already thousands of people had been
converted and baptized. No one knew
exactly what the future held, but certainly it included the Risen Christ
inaugurating some kind of kingdom on earth in the very near future. Everything would be much clearer then, but in
the mean time, the disciples felt compelled to convert as many people as
possible.
During this exhilarating
period, the last thing any one was thinking about was long-term planning, probably
because no one believed there would be a long term. The faithful were living day-to-day and moment-to-moment. Given their mindset, it is easy to understand
their attitude around material possessions.
It was springtime in Jerusalem and most certainly there would be no need
again for winter coats. Whatever Jesus
was going to do, certainly it would happen well before the weather turned
cold. Why not sell your coats and give
the money to the poor? In fact, why not
sell just about everything you have and give it to the poor? What better way could there be to prepare for
Jesus’ immanent return? Surely his words
spoken long ago now echoed in their heads and generated an enthusiastic
urgency: “Take no extra coat and no extra sandals no extra bag with you as you
go to the do the work of an evangelist.”
A kind of spontaneous generosity swept through
the ranks. Listen again to what we heard
moments ago from the reading from the Book of Acts:
All
who believed were together and had all things in common; they would sell their
possessions and goods and distribute the proceeds to all, as any had need. Day by day, as they spent much time together
in the temple, they broke bread at home and ate their food with glad and
generous hearts, praising God and having the goodwill of all the people.
What an amazing time that must have
been. No one seemed to have a care in
the world as they waited for the Risen Christ to do something. It was as if everyone was on a retreat
together – worshiping, praying, sharing meals, relaxing, being filled with a
sense of well-being and good will.
Earning a living? Not a problem. Paying the bills? That won’t be necessary ever again. Maxing out the credit card? That won’t be a problem when Jesus’ new order
arrives.
Think about what a great time we could have
here at St. Paul’s if we all went home, liquidated our assets, sold our
property and possessions, and simply decided to hang out together. Think about how many other people would join
our fellowship if we opened it up to them.
Think about the response we would get it we spread the word that there
was a free cookout tonight at 5:00.
Think about the response we would get if we invited everyone back for
breakfast (with bacon) in the morning.
Heck, if we all could live off the accumulated wealth we through into
the pot and invited everyone to join our ranks, I’ll bet folks would even be
willing to kick back for an hour or two each day and listen to me teach and
preach. And if – if – I could toss in
some miraculous healings for good affect, well, we would be a going concern!
I am sure you see the fatal flaw in this
plan. No, it is not that no one here
would liquidate everything to fund a wonderful communal experience. The fatal flaw is that each and every one of
us would wonder what would happen when the money ran out. That is not something that was on the minds
of the Apostles and all those early converts.
In short order, believers were selling
everything they had and giving it to the disciples. At the end of Acts 4 we read for the first
time about a follower named Barnabas. He
sells a field he owns and lays the proceeds as the feet of the Jerusalem
Apostles. From there he will eventually
accompany the yet-to-be-converted Paul on missionary journeys around the
Mediterranean. They will found Christian
churches in various communities and nurture them from infancy, though growing
pains, and into viability. And Barnabas
was just one of many converts who gave away everything gratefully and joyfully.
But, as we turn the page to the 5th
chapter of the Book of Acts, we encounter Ananias and Sapphira, and husband and
wife recently baptized. They wanted to
follow the example of others and so they sold everything they had. But for reasons unspecified, when Ananias
comes before Peter to make his offering, he holds back some of the
proceeds. Peter, perceiving what is
going on, proclaims that Satan has entered into Ananias’ heart and the next
thing you know the reluctant giver is stricken dead. When his wife comes to check out what has
happened, she too attempts to conceal that they did not give every penny they
had and dies on the spot. In what might
be one of the most understated verses in the bible, after this takes place
Scripture records “great fear fell among all the believers.” You can be sure it led to a dramatic uptick
of generous and abundant giving.
You may suspect that another shoe is about to
drop and you are right. Here it
comes. Jesus does not return in a way
that inaugurates a new order. Eventually
(and more quickly than many would suspect) the assets collected by the Apostles
ran out. Jesus’ followers were
broke. The bible doesn’t say much about
this, but it does record that a great famine comes over Palestine and that this
puts the church in Jerusalem in dire straights.
St. Paul initiates a great undertaking by trying to raise funds from all
the churches he has founded to supply relief for the suffering. Most of his New Testament letters in one way
or another implore believes to respond as they are able.
Out of all of this, I want to lift up a
tension we all live with: the tension between spontaneous (and perhaps lavish)
generosity verses what I want to call sustainable generosity.
You can scarcely go through a week without
being compelled to make an act of spontaneous generosity: “Would you like to
round up your change to help cause X?”, “Can you please do something to help me
with my light bill?”, or a placard that reads “Homeless and need money for
food.” Spontaneous generosity typically
presents us with a single, immediate way to meet a need that generally we know
little or nothing about. It plays on a
particular emotion – not righteous indignation about a situation we find
abhorrent, or passionate support for a worthy cause, but just straight, plain
guilt. Spontaneous generosity never
addresses the problem, it only puts a Band-Aid on the need, assuaging –
temporarily – our sense of guilt that we have more than we need when confronted
by a person who has such obvious need.
That is not always a bad thing, but is there a better way?
What does sustainable generosity look
like? Well, first off, it looks like me
giving in a way that does not exhaust my personal resources. It allows me to take care of my basic needs in
a way that the early Church model failed to do.
Second, it looks like me being generous.
I can take care of my ‘needs’ and even many of my ‘wants’ in a manner that
still leaves me with significant resources to share with others. The biblical model of the tithe suggests that
10% is a good benchmark. Sustainable
generosity is never born of guilt. It is
born of obedience to Christ’s call to care for others. It is born of a belief in justice and in equity
for all people. And it is born in a
belief that I can, through the power of my actions and the appropriation of my
resources, make the world a more just place for every person.
I think about the Haitian mother of four who
will receive a micro-finance grant from our Lenten offering. I think about how she will use that money to
purchase sheep and a weaving loom. I
think about how she will create products that she can sell at market and how
that money will help her to provide food, medicine, and education for her
children. And, because in that society,
a little bit goes a long way, she will be able to reach out in love and concern
for her neighbors in material ways she could not before. I think about her and how little it cost you
and me to make it happen and I want to hit the reset button. I want to say we have only dipped our toe in
the water and in doing so discovered that the water feels nice. Let’s keep going. What’s next?
How do we begin to bring the idea and methodology of sustainable
generosity to downtown Suffolk?
Bill and Ginger Rodgers have figured out one
thing. They helped to initiate a program
where children with learning challenges can read to therapy dogs. What a great idea! In fact, it was such a great idea that when
they launched the program absolutely no one came to benefit from it. They talked to the library and got
nowhere. They talked to the school board
and – shockingly – got nowhere. But here
is the greatest shock of all… they and their partners did not give up and
finally they are starting to make some inroads.
Don’t I remember a fantastic preacher in this very pulpit once saying
“God can’t make much use of quitters!”?
I think I do.
Today we observe two calendar events. Liturgically, the Fourth Sunday of Easter is
known as Good Shepherd Sunday. Our
collect and lessons focus of the image of Jesus as shepherd in our lives. Today is also Mothers’ Day. Shepherds and mothers are wonderful images of
sustainable generosity, don’t you think.
They teach us much about how to care for self while being constantly
oriented toward the care of others. They
remind us through their roles in life that living for self alone is no way to
live. They embody the words of St.
Francis’ Prayer that it is in giving we receive.
Let’s spend some time in thought and
conversation thinking about the difference between spontaneous generosity and
sustainable generosity and how we might move from one to the other in our
lives.
