Sermon by Rev. Victor Carpenter, March 9, 2008
First Religious Society, Carlisle, Massachusetts
It looked like a perfect day to go fishing. It was reported the mackerel were running and two friends, Joe and Al, decided to take their boat out to sea and enjoy the day. And indeed the fishing was great. It was so great and they were so busy hauling in the catch that neither man noticed that the sky was growing darker and the wind had sprung up.
Then came the rain; just drops at first, but becoming heavier as the wind began to howl and the waves rose. They were in trouble. No other boats were in view and they didn’t have a radio on which to call the Coast Guard.
Their situation became desperate. “I think we’re going down”, said Joe. “What’ll we do!” said Al. “ Say a prayer” said Joe; “I don’t know any prayers” said Al; “Well lets sing a hymn” said Joe; “Don’t know any” said Al. “ We’ve got to do something religious” said Joe. So they took a collection!
I love that story. It is so ridiculous that it perfectly describes the strange, weird, and funny and emotionally convoluted feelings we have about the relationship between money and religion.
Money is the one thing that no religious community can do without; and yet money is the thing that generates the most embarrassment and ambivalence among churchgoers.
We can and do speak readily to each other about our most cherished beliefs, the content of our hearts while, at the same time we use every means available to hide the content of our pockets.
And our mixed up feelings are on display every Sunday morning – not just here in our sanctuary but in Protestant services of worship generally throughout the land.
Here’s the scene: It’s Sunday morning. People enter the sanctuary, greet friends or sit quietly in contemplation. Heads are bowed in prayer. A hymn is announced; people stand, sing – generally with muted emotion – and return to sitting quietly together. All is calm.
Then the offertory is announced. Suddenly there is much movement. The ushers march down the aisles while the worshipers rustle around searching purses and pockets, hurriedly writing checks (their deductible) or trying to decide between that ten or that twenty dollar bill (their not deductible).
The ushers retrieve the collection plates. Solemnly they make their way up the aisles while the choir’s anthem swells, showcasing its talent (and providing a welcome distraction from the money that is being collected on those plates).
THEN comes the big moment. The ushers come down the aisles bearing their plates of money. The congregation rises as one; choir and congregation join in a song of thanksgiving!
If you didn’t know any better you could assume that this moment is the reason that people come to church. While it’s easy to dismiss such a judgment, the un-ease associated with the offertory has not gone unnoticed, occasionally provoking the comment that, “ It looks like we worship money!”
And, indeed, churches have attempted to address such concerns, either by whisking the collection plates out of sight as soon as its over or by eliminating the offertory as a part of the worship service altogether.
I should tell you that I do not agree with those who would eliminate the offertory from services of worship.
I think that such “elimination” procedure simply plays into our embarrassment about the connection between religion and money; an embarrassment that is born of ignorance.
Rather than hiding or eliminating (which is just another form of hiding) our conflicted feelings about money, better to face the deep connection between our money and our religion - and be inspired (yes, inspired rather than shamed) by what we find.
Think of it THIS way: the Offertory is not about money; the Offertory is about US.
By putting our dollars and our checks into those collection plates each Sunday, we are making a statement about our freedom to worship as we choose. The dollars and the checks in those plates send a symbolic message to the world that we are not supported by or dependent upon the government to have our church. The money in those bags says,” We pay our way” and that means that the government of this town of Carlisle , this commonwealth of Massachusetts or this United States of America has no right to tell us what to believe or how to worship.
What’s more, the money on those plates give us the right to tell the government, local, state or federal when one or another of its branches is violating the very principles upon which it was founded.
Many churches, especially churches with long histories, have collection plates that are inscribed with Bible verses or other suitable sentiments. I’ve often thought that some of the confusion about money in church might be cleared away if the plates were inscribed with just the word “Freedom”.
Newcomers would see that word and ask why it appeared on the money receptacle. The question would then generate a response such as, “ Our donations to the church guarantees our right to explore the truth as we see it; we are un-bought and un-bossed! We own the power to use our reason to determine what is good and true and worthy without hindrance or dictatorship from any authority! And, it gives us the RIGHT to demand that the state live up to its obligations to us and to all who would seek to live in dignity and freedom.
This is a sermon about money - In case you haven’t noticed But it’s not only about money; its not even primarily about money. This is a sermon about the impulse that produces the money; the impulse to be generous.
GENEROSITY ! My dictionary defines it as being “unselfish; free of meanness or pettiness, magnanimous, abundant, munificent - - nice Unitarian Universalist values.
And since I’ve suggested that our collection plates are symbols of our freedom, I want to suggest another symbol, a symbol that indicates Unitarian Universalist “generosity”.
My favorite symbol of generosity is – a popsicle.
You remember Popsicles. Really nothing but frozen colored water on their two wooden sticks. Popsicles were made that way so that a kid could break a Popsicle in two and give half to a friend. Eating a whole Popsicle all by yourself was never as much fun as eating it with a chum, a buddy. And, as children we were encouraged by our parents to share; we may not have always wanted to share, but if you didn’t share you risked being called “stingy” and that was a terrible insult; so we shared, and we made friends by our sharing, our generosity.
The most successful annual pledge canvass I was ever involved in occurred while I was minister of our church in Belmont. It was known as the “Popsicle canvass”. People got the message. They remembered the warm personal experiences from their own childhoods; how they made friends – and kept friends – and this good feeling about their church spilled over about how their church is connected with larger issues in the world.
And two important things happened. Belmont raised more”Popsicle” than they had before AND the congregation began to question how much of the church’s “Popsicle” could be shared with “friends” beyond that congregation (I think the “stingy” image had some effect).
They decided to take the money collected each Sunday that was not specifically designated for the church and use it to support various causes that expressed UU values in the community. It was as though the Popsicle had more than two sticks because there was more to go around.
It is my belief that people really do desire to be generous. Last Sunday seventeen of our people stood up here wearing their New Orleans T-shirts and bore witness to what a generous impulse could produce ! Faced with the reality of great need (as was the case with New Orleans following Katrina) People will give and give generously.
One of my favorite things to do at Income Tax Time is to go through my cancelled checks and my collection of receipts assembled after a year of spending my money. Most of those receipts are just routine. Mine are just like yours; the new carburator for the car, the dentist’s bill, the cost of snow removal and telephone and heat and so forth. And then, in the process of this really boring inventory a cancelled check pops up that give me a kick of pleasure, my contribution to this or that voluntary associetion to which I belong, the ACLU, Public Radio , the Clinton or Obama campaign (I give to Obama, my wife gives to Clinton ) and so forth. Good , worthy causes. It makes me happy all over again that I contribute to them. And then my check to my church, the repository of my values and my vision. That makes me really happy . And your monthly check to your church should make you happy too.
This morning several members of this congregation are attending other UU churches. They are doing their duty as your Pulpit Search Committee, listening to candidates for this pulpit preach from what are called “neutral pulpits”. Within weeks they will make their selection. And their choice will stand here in this pulpit awaiting your judgement and hopefully your selection.
That is always an exciting moment in the life of every Unitarian Universalist congregation. For you it means that a long struggle is over and that a new day has dawned. It means that the future is beginning once again; it means the opportunity and possibility are spread before you.
I can think of no better time for this particular sermon to be preached or for you who love this place of worship to take heed of its meaning and act accordingly. May you remember your long and illustrious past, rejoice and take courage in the present and create the future, thereby joining with the saints who, from their labors rest and whose great heritage is yours to advance in truth and in love.
Amen.