John Sutherland
17 October 2004
I have a morning routine: I get up early, I put my little aluminum espresso pot on the stove, I light six or seven candles on the kitchen table, I put on Glenn Gould’s recording of Bach’s Goldberg Variations (very softly), and I pray the Lord’s Prayer. This is a routine that helps me to focus my mind, my heart, and my life in a world of intense distraction.
And as I whisper the words to that prayer aloud, the line that always has the most weight is the one that traditionally refers to “daily bread.” In my own more general phrasing, it goes, “Give us today what we need for today.”
This line is so significant to my daily meditation that sometimes I’ll pause mid-prayer and repeat it two or three times, until my sleepy head really gets it: “Give us today what we need for today.”
Stewardships sermons are supposed to be about tithing, and how your church in particular is uniquely qualified to receive your gifts. Trust me that I’ll get around to that. The reason I wanted to begin talking about my daily meditation is that I want to get beyond the decision to tithe, and talk about what can happen afterward, when tithing is just a part of your life.
I’d really like to be rich. It would be so convenient, especially when I have a child going off to college next year, and I’d like to not worry about how I’m going to manage that. Not that I’ve never had a plan: I’ve been a full-time, stock-option-receiving employee of Microsoft for six years now, and if I had picked ANY other six year period in that company’s history, I’d be a millionaire. Nice going, John.
But I also understand that my desire for riches is a desire not to be dependent on God. I have a lot of admiration for those members of our family who are well-off financially and who maintain a deep spiritual life. In my own weakness, riches would probably mean an immediate descent into spiritual sloth. But the larger point here is that when you don’t have a lot of extra money or time to spare, and you still give in both of these ways, you are making yourself vulnerable to God, and that is where the real riches begin.
If you’ve every tried to buy a thoughtful gift for a person who already has everything, you know it’s difficult to show them love in that particular way. And while God cares for every one of us, every day, God’s caring is always more obvious to those who have exposed themselves, whose faith in God is so strong and so real, they are willing to live on the diet of perishable manna that is provided anew every day.
I am not anywhere near that spiritual level, but I’ve experienced this manna in a few forms in my life. I’ll just tell you about one of them, and it’s one that should probably never make it into a stewardship sermon.
I have a practice of financial tithing, and I understand more concretely from my time on the Vestry how individual tithing is vital to the beautiful ministries of this parish. The parish in turn tithes to the diocese, which in turn tithes to the national church, which can then take its place in the Worldwide Anglican Communion. Among other things, tithing is a wonderful way to feel connected both locally and globally to all the good work that you can’t accomplish by yourself.
But one Saturday night, I had already written my check to the church, put it in its proper envelope, put it by the front door for Sunday morning, and drove down to my girlfriend’s house to pick her up for the opera. Everything was fine until we were ready to go, and I turned the key in the ignition and heard … nothing.
We looked at each other, laughed, got into her car, and went to the opera. But the next morning, instead of going to church, I was out in her driveway with a series of guys from AAA, trying to diagnose the problem with my car. I was hoping it would be a simple battery recharge, but it was, expensively, a dead starter, and there was nothing to do but tow the car to my mechanic’s. Furthermore, the check I had written to the church that was sitting by my front door was now going to bounce if I put it in the offering plate the next week. And this was the part that really threw me.
Having been raised by a Lutheran pastor, I have an overdeveloped sense of divine providence, and the burning question in my mind was, “Why in the world would God sabotage my tithing?”
The answer, for months afterward, was, “I have no idea.”
It was only very recently that I’ve been able to think clearly about this event. Sensibly speaking, if my car was going to break down, it did so in a good place, and in a way that allowed me to pay for fixing it, albeit while throwing a wrench into my nice religious practice.
But then it occurred to me, maybe that was the answer. Maybe tithing is not ultimately about mere financial discipline, though any Pharisee can tell you that’s a good and virtuous thing.
I believe this event was God’s way of saying, “This is not about your nice religious practice, John. This is about Me taking care of you.”
And so I continue to tithe, and fail sometimes, and try again. It’s worth trying repeatedly, and it never pays to despair. Today's gospel tells us to "keep praying, and never give up hope." And as our former Rector, Peter Moore, was fond of saying, “We are not called to be successful; we are called to be faithful.”
Supporting this household feels deeply right. This parish is one of the most life-affirming places I have ever known. Anyone who thinks the music and liturgy here are merely pretty decorations, hasn’t seen the broken lives it has helped put back together. It’s a place where real humanity is constantly healed by divine beauty.
This is made possible largely by the tithing of time and talent and energy. My experience on the Vestry is, I think, very much like that of the other members, and this likely applies to other ministries here as well: it’s not that we have a lot of extra time to serve, it’s that we love this house, and we’ll do whatever is necessary to take care of it.
And there is something about doing things you really don’t have the time to do, being truly in over your head, that reminds you: You’re not doing this with your own strength. It has been inescapably clear to me on this Vestry that we are not alone.
So, am I recommending bankruptcy and burnout? No, we still need to be responsible with our gifts. But there will be times, and those times happen much more often than we admit to ourselves, when there will be a clear call from God to undertake more than we think we can do with our own strength. What we need to remember is that such a call comes with a promise: that we will be given everything we need.
If we answer that call, and find some way to stay focused on our daily walk with God as we are barraged with the distractions of the world, not only will all be well, all will be rich, and blessed, and wonderful.
And so, in the end, I will not put my faith in the riches of this world, nor in Microsoft stock, nor in the tyranny of a convenient schedule, nor even in my own religious practice. In the end, I will put my faith in God, who loves me, and loves you, and who will sustain you every day of your life.
