Pentecost 16C 2025

THE REV. E. WAYNE ROLLINS

 Let me start by making a confession. I really don’t like talking about money. It caused a rift in a part of my family that had some, while the rest of us just got by from paycheck to paycheck. We weren’t what some call “dirt poor” in Appalachia, but we were pretty close to it. 

So when it comes to these latter sections of the Gospels at about the same time that we’re talking about next year’s budget and pledging support, I really just want to go away and join Thoreau in the woods, or maybe just sit in a garden somewhere until it’s all over. 

But here we are. Letters and pledge cards are showing up in our mailboxes, whether from our parish or other community organizations seeking support. My last parish had issues with pledge campaigns that always fell short, so I invited the recently retired vice-president of development, his successor and his assistant from the University of Michigan to talk to our stewardship committee. They were all active members of our parish. 

To my surprise, the current leader of that group said he thought I should go into fund raising. That pretty much fits my definition of a personal hell, especially if you add pumpkin spice lattes as the only beverage available for consumption. I replied that I didn’t like talking about money. But his point was that I get excited about what money makes possible. 

That brings me to ministry. And that, in turn, brings me to something I read many years ago. When we talk only about numbers, whether it be budgets or statistics, we’re engaging in the realm of death. Ministry, on the other hand, is about life. Ministry is about engaging the eternal life of God in our own lives and into the world around us. 

The Apostle Paul seems to be making that point when he tells his young protégé Timothy that “the love of money is the root of all evil.” Not, mind you, as we’ve often heard, that money is the root of all evil. It’s about what we truly love, not necessarily about commerce. 
I mean, let’s face it. Churches in the early middle ages didn’t concern themselves with money, except when it came to buildings and their maintenance. They had altar rails not because folks needed someplace to kneel and support themselves while receiving communion. The rails existed to keep the chickens and lambs and other animals from walking onto the altar area and leaving their own donations on the floor during the consecration. Now we’re more concerned about wine spots and candle wax on the fair linen. But the animals, eggs and milk, and harvested produce were presented as an offering so that the clergy had something to eat during the coming week.

Throughout scripture we find some teaching about how we use the wealth given to us. And it’s consistent. Those who have much have much required of them. Those who have an abundance have it so that they can give something to the poor who don’t have enough.
Granted, scripture doesn’t talk about the necessity of mopping floors, paying electric bills, elevator maintenance, heating and air conditioning. It also doesn’t talk much about salaries, except that those who travel to spread the Gospel should accept what is given to them because workers deserve their pay. I don’t know about Delaware, but my home state of West Virginia says in its constitution that there are three professions—medicine, the law, and ministry. But, sadly, it doesn’t say that they should be paid equally, even though each at one time required not a master’s degree, but a professional degree beyond undergraduate work. Remember I said I don’t like to talk about money.

I’ve been asking folks here to begin talking about ministry, even while some need to be alerting us to the fiscal aspects of our communal life. In other words, I want to hear about how the money you give works in ways that spread the good news of Jesus Christ. I want you to begin talking about what electricity, heat, air conditioning, a roof that doesn’t leak, an elevator, clean floors and empty trash cans, and all the other stuff we spend your offerings on does to tell those around us about the God who calls the dead to new life. I want to hear your experiences of the risen Christ who calls you by name and shows up when you least expect it.

I want to hear how you help those who might also bear the name “Lazarus” even while you make those who own the gates where Lazarus sits aware that not just the crumbs, but the bounty on their tables also is a gift from God, and by sharing it with those who don’t have enough, they give it not just to Lazarus, but back to God.

I want to hear your ideas and experiences of how you’ve dared to name the darkness around you so that you might find the courage to carry the light of Christ into it. I want to not just hear how you’ve helped the many Lazaruses of our time, but also how you’ve somehow steered the gatekeepers and gate owners to God’s idea of real justice.

What I don’t want to hear is that you’ve thrown a little money around so that someone else can do the work for you. That is, unless someone else can do so much more with your supporting resources combined with others and you want to make sure you’re helping in some way. After all, none of us can solve all the problems of the world by ourselves. Just as it takes a village to raise a child, it takes a community to reveal the overwhelming vision of the God who is known as “I am what I will be.”

There is a scene in the movie Auntie Mame where the central character, who is very well off, proclaims, "life is a banquet, and most poor [souls] are starving to death."

​I substitute souls for what she really says. While the debate around the quote focuses on existential issues and embracing the wholeness of life's experiences, it's important that we look closely at all the souls implicated in that quote. It's not as obvious as we might like it to be.

Hunger has many dimensions. We must do what we can to satisfy the immediate need for others. But we are also called to name what is profuse in our own culture--the hunger for meaning, for companionship, and yes, for love that gives life and not just a passing thrill.
Don’t give up on the rich man until it’s too late. Walk with Lazarus to his table and invite him to join in the feast God has prepared for all of us by sharing the bounty spread so richly before us all. Greed teaches us that it’s okay to fill our stomachs while we starve our souls. Let your witness reveal just who is really starving to death.

​I substitute souls for what she really says. While the debate around the quote focuses on existential issues and embracing the wholeness of life's experiences, it's important that we look closely at all the souls implicated in that quote. It's not as obvious as we might like it to be.

Hunger has many dimensions. We must do what we can to satisfy the immediate need for others. But we are also called to name what is profuse in our own culture--the hunger for meaning, for companionship, and yes, for love that gives life and not just a passing thrill.
​
Don’t give up on the rich man until it’s too late. Walk with Lazarus to his table and invite him to join in the feast God has prepared for all of us by sharing the bounty spread so richly before us all. Greed teaches us that it’s okay to fill our stomachs while we starve our souls. Let your witness reveal just who is really starving to death.