Money and Religion, in the minds of many, don’t mix. They shouldn’t have anything to do with each other. God doesn’t need my money: it’s only the Church that wants it—especially the clergy, who shouldn’t be trusted with it in the first place.
Just think of any TV “evangelist,” who spends a lot of air time talking about “love gifts” or, more Bible-sounding, “tithes and offerings.” Nobody is surprised when sooner or later and one after another, these fellas end up on TV surrounded by IRS agents or a bevy of bimbos. That’s all the proof we need that religion and money don’t mix.
And there’s that Bible verse, isn’t there? “Money is the root of all evil?”
First, I’m sure you know this frequently quoted verse doesn’t really exist. What St Paul actually said was “The love of money is the root of all evil.”
He knew what he was talking about.
The Gospel is not about money or power or prestige. It centers around giving, not taking, which is another way of saying charity, which is another word for love. St Paul growls “It’s the love of money” that’s the problem. When any of us, Bishops, vestrymen, Priests, ladies in the pew, Popes or Sunday School children love money, we’re loving something Jesus told us not to.
Money isn’t evil—it’s stuff. Necessary stuff, with real uses, like manure. Useful, but not lovable. St Paul isn’t worried about my loving money in and of itself; he’s warning me that money is always a sign (we might even say a “sacrament”) of something else. The danger is that I’ll enthrone one of those something elses where God should be. Whatever my heart circles around—power or pleasure, importance or security—if I love money it’s because I believe money can give me what I want.
It can’t, though. Money can buy me a lot of stuff—even friends (of a sort)—but sooner or later (sometimes not till we’re on our deathbeds) that loving money “costs” something. We pay its price with our souls. What we love shapes us: “Where your treasure is, there will your heart be also.”
So for a minute, forget about the money-grubbing rector and the smarmy TV preacher and think about the spiritual reality of money.
What we do with our money is a sign of what we think is important.
We all have to keep up our mortgage payments to the bank and buy our groceries at the HEB, we’ve gotta have clothes to wear and books to read (not necessarily in that order), and in our society that means we have to “make” and use money. But money means more than that. For us, money means status and influence and power. We tell each other who we are by what we do with our money.
We tell God, too.
The TV “evangelist” promises his marks that if they’ll send him their money, God will reward them with more money. This slimy message, worthy of the ole Serpent, is “Give so you can receive more.”
Dearly beloved, we give so we’ll have less. That’s Gospel giving. We give to God as He has given to us. Without expecting a reward, giving so we can be one with the One Who gave Himself to us. At the Offertory at Mass, while the Priest prays for the Whole State of Christ’s Church, the alms bason rests on the Altar, alongside the Altar Book and the bread (soon not to be bread) and wine (which will likewise be shortly undergoing a Change). In that collection plate, we are putting ourselves on the Altar of God.
That’s true Gospel giving.—Fr Gregory Wilcox
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