To Tithe

I have been asked to preach on Stewardship this morning.

I expect most clergy receive that request with mixed feelings, resignation being the most positive. Dread, frustration, a sense of futility being some of the others. I think all of those fit for me. Frustration. They want me to preach on stewardship! What the hell do they think I preach about every week? Dread. No matter what I say, it’s going to be uncomfortable; it’s going to generate negative feelings. Futility. Can anything I say make a difference? What is there that hasn’t been said? It’s the passionate whirlwind of conversion that’s needed in people’s hearts, the very breath of God, not the words of my mouth, that might make a difference. And the slightly positive feeling of resignation. It is, indeed, the duty of the clergy, the rector in particular, to teach and to lead and attempt to convert in all spheres of our Christian life, including the financial one. So, yes, I will preach on stewardship. Thank you for asking.

The 2003 General Convention of the Episcopal Church received a lot of press. In the midst of that, much of what deserved attention didn’t get it. As you probably know, the Protestant Episcopal Church in the United States of America meets in General Convention every three years. The individual dioceses within the church meet in annual conventions. These conventions do a variety of things. They address programs and budgets. They have the charge and the power to amend and modify the Constitutions and Canons, the binding laws that govern our corporate life as a national church and within dioceses. Most of you would probably be surprised at how much is not in the Constitutions and Canons of the National Church or the diocese. The foundational, binding laws of our common life are intentionally spare. A lot of what happens at conventions is discussion, prayer, and action upon resolutions. Resolutions that are, by definition, not binding. But these resolutions express the contemporary, faithful convictions of the church assembled. The people gathered are the church. The people gathered in fellowship, prayer, conversation, and discernment are the life of the church, the expression of the Body of Christ. Convention resolutions are the Spirit’s voice in our place and our time. I hate conventions, but I do not take them lightly.

The 2003 General Convention passed the following (non-binding) resolution. This 74^th General Convention of the Episcopal Church "encourages all members of the church to develop a personal spiritual discipline that includes, at a minimum, the holy habits of tithing, daily personal prayer and study, Sabbath time and weekly corporate worship." It is no more than a non-binding resolution. It is no less than the Holy Spirit’s voice from and to us, the church. As far as I know, every General Convention in recent times has deliberately and clearly identified the tithe as a characteristic of the Body of Christ. This is who we Episcopalians are, a people assembled in prayer, conversation and discernment; called to be the Body of Christ. The Holy Spirit speaks from and to us. We resolve to be a people who tithe.

A tithe is a tenth of your income. To tithe is to designate that tenth for sacred purposes, to give it up for God. Abram, before he became known as Abraham, was the first to tithe. Genesis 14:20 recounts how Abram offered the priest Melchizedek one tenth of everything he had out of a sense of gratitude for being blessed. Jacob—that rapscallion Jacob—also tithed. In Genesis 28:22, right after he had the vision of heavenly angels we call Jacob’s ladder, Jacob said to God, "of all that you give me, I will surely give one tenth to you." In both of those cases, the tithe was probably one tenth of everything Abram and Jacob had or received. Today, when we speak of the tithe, we generally mean monetary income. Just monetary income. But all monetary income. I think it’s line 22 on your 1040. The tithe is one tenth of your annual income, before taxes, withholdings, or any other adjustments. To tithe is to give that money to God.

I tithe. I have tithed since 1985. That’s the year I finished grad school and went to work as a research geologist with Exxon—my first real job. I have continued to tithe all of these years and will continue to tithe for two very simple reasons. (1) I want to be a Christian. (2) Tithing is easy. I want to be a Christian. To live into and to live out the fullness of the vocation God has in mind for me. But it is so hard. So I cling to the tithe. That is one piece, one facet of the Christian vocation, just one, where I know I can and do meet at least the minimum expectation for the Christian life.

I want to be a Christian, to really be a Christian. And, you know, despite my trepidation about a stewardship sermon, that’s a story I love to tell. I want so much to dwell within the household of God. That’s what we say to new Christians when they are baptized. "We receive you into the household of God. Confess the faith of Christ crucified…"

When I describe myself as a cradle Episcopalian, I mean that I have never been affiliated with any other denomination. I have not always been a person of faith. While I was a child my church participation was intermittent. As a teenager, I coveted my activity and importance as an acolyte. The momentum of that commitment carried into the first year or two of college, but soon withered in the face of other interests and enticements. Though filled with activity and accomplishments those years that followed were, in the deepest ways, barren and pointless. Do you know that feeling of having your life full, but totally empty? And then, in my last year or so of grad school, I happened to be visiting Houston for a job interview. On a Sunday I didn't have anything better to do, and, at Palmer Memorial Episcopal Church in Houston, I went to church and a priest I had known years ago preached on homecomings. And I heard and saw and felt God opening a door and welcoming me home. Into the household of God. And ever since I have wanted nothing more than to dwell in the house of the Lord. To be a Christian. To live day by day as a member of God’s family.

But it’s hard. It’s so hard to know what God really wants of us. It’s hard to do the things we know we should do. It’s hard to live up to the full expectations of our baptismal vows. To seek and serve Christ in all persons, loving your neighbor as yourself, for example. How can I ever meet that standard, live that life?

The parable of the Good Samaritan is probably one of the best-known stories in the Bible. But I struggle to read it, much less to preach it. I would have walked by. A foreigner, filthy and wounded. I would have looked the other way. God, I want to be a Christian, but so often I fall short.

A friend of mine, who is a priest, has a homeless woman living in her basement. Some of her parishioners brought the woman by, not knowing what else to do. My friend doesn’t talk about it much except to say, "Matthew 25." That’s the bit about the Great Judgment when Jesus says, "Truly I tell you, just as you did it to one of the least of these who are members of my family, you did it to me."

I want to be a Christian. I want to dwell in the household of God. But, by God, I cherish the privacy of my own house. There is so much in my life that I cannot and will not sacrifice for God. But I can tithe. Tithing is easy. And I cling to the fact that in this one part of my life I can fulfill the minimum expectations of a Christian. I can be a Christian. I can live as a Christian, as a member of the household of God.

In this morning’s gospel a king invited guests to a marvelous celebration and feast. They were invited to the Lord’s table, into the Lord’s household. But the guests made light of it. The activities of their daily lives preoccupied them. I imagine they were glad to be invited, proud to be on the guest list, but it was hard to find time to actually attend. Does God really expect always to be our highest priority? No qualifications. No rationalizations. Are we really meant to drop everything, to rearrange our whole lives to accommodate an invitation from the Lord? Who could conform to that standard?

But I am even more uneasy with the second half of the story. The king generously broadened the invitation to everyone who yearned for the heavenly banquet. Come, share at my table. But you must wear a wedding robe. Who ever you are, you must wear your best, you must bring the best that you have, you must offer the best that you are to this endeavor. This is not an everyday occasion, the king’s feast. To share in the kings’ household, to eat at the king’s table, challenges us to be and offer our very best to God. Our best. All of it. Always. I don’t think I can. But I want more than anything to be there. To really, deeply share table fellowship with my Lord. I want to be a Christian. And I can tithe. Just a tenth. Just money. Tithing is easy. And to tithe… at a minimum, to tithe is to be a Christian, to live up to the standard we are called to.

The 2003 General Convention resolution I quoted is usually listed under the title "holy habits." It outlines the "minimum" habits that characterize a Christian. Those holy habits are tithing; daily personal prayer and real study of the Scriptures (daily!); weekly Sabbath time protected as holy to God alone; and weekly, not occasional, but weekly corporate worship. The minimum habits of the Christian vocation. No rationalizing. No negotiating.

David Head (He Sent Leanness) has written a series of prayers that articulate our natural, unfiltered thoughts towards God. Listen to the one on corporate worship.

O Lord, so long as the weather is reasonably fine,
So long as I have no visitors,
So long as nobody asks me to do any work,
So long as I can sit in the back pew but one on the left,
So long as it isn’t a local preacher planned,
So long as they don’t choose hymns I don’t know,
So long as my Joe is asked to recite at the Anniversary,
So long as I can get home in time for the play,
I will honor thee with my presence at Church whenever I feel like it.

It's meant tongue in cheek, but in the end it really isn’t funny. I want to be a Christian, to live as God’s beloved in God’s household. To share in Christ’s presence and life. But that means living on God’s terms, not mine. In so many ways I know I cannot live up to that calling. But I can tithe.  Tithing is easy. Thank God for the tithe.  Amen.