Homily for 24 Feb 2019

24 Feb 2019

7^th Sunday in Ordinary Time, Year C

It’s a mystery of the Church that many people contemplate.  The mystery: Why? Why does the Church always have its hand out asking for money?  I made a list of the “regular” collections we have—there’s: the World’s Poor Collection, the Seminarian Appeal, the Missionary Co-op Appeal, the Bishop’s Appeal, the Collection for Retired Religious, the Holy Land Collection, the Home Missions Collection, World Mission Sunday, capital campaigns and, of course, the weekly offertory at Mass.  And that doesn’t include the occasional “second collections” for this or that.

The Church does always have its hands out, asking for money.  Even in the Scriptures, we see it: Paul traveling around the Middle East, taking up a collection for the Church in Jerusalem.  And that would’ve been a strange sight at the time: a man going around the Greek territories, asking for money.  Historians say that Paul was probably met with suspicion for doing that.  But he did it anyway.

In his Letter to the Romans, Paul even indicates that he’s willing to die to make sure the collection makes its way back to Jerusalem (Rom 15:30-31).  And that sounds kind of strange (from a Christian perspective)—I mean, being willing to die for the sake of money.  I thought poverty was a fundamental value for us.  But, really, Paul wasn’t willing to die for money; instead, it was for the sake of the Church that he risked his life in taking up the collection.

So, the Church (starting with Saint Paul) has always had its hands out, asking for money.  Of course, as we know, sometimes in our history it wasn’t at all for charitable purposes that money was collected.  Happily, at least, those were exceptions to the norm.  The Church asks for money—partly to aid the poor (as in the case of St. Paul, and in the case of some of our collections today).  But the Church also asks for money to sustain itself.

One of the downsides of the Church using business models to understand itself is that the Church isn’t a business—never has been.  The Church is a community of people who share a common faith.  The Church doesn’t manufacture a product and then sell it; the Church doesn’t deal in commodities.  It isn’t like a service industry, where there’s an exchange of capital for services rendered; there’s no business transaction; there’s no profit.  The Church is a non-profit organization.  We exist simply as a community of faith, trying to live the gospel, trying to share the gospel.

In many ways, the Church is a beggar.  She doesn’t have a regular source of income.  She wanders in the world, asking for donations so that she can survive (and, hopefully, thrive).  And I suppose that could turn into a sob story.  But it shouldn’t.  Jesus didn’t tell his disciples to “go get a job and be financially secure.”  He didn’t say “go form a corporation and use me as your commodity.”  He didn’t say any of that (nor did he suggest it).  Jesus set up his band of believers to be poor—in earthly terms, so as to be rich—in heavenly terms.

Why does the Church always have its hands out, asking for money?  Because Holy Mother Church is a beggar—designed by God to be so.  And God did that (I assume) to make sure that charity, sacrifice, generosity, and love of “the other” would be the fuel that makes her run.  As I’ve mentioned in past homilies, the Church runs on sacrifice; she runs on charity and giving.  Without that, she ceases to be—not only in the corporate, “business” sense, but also in her very nature.  Without charity, sacrifice, and generosity there is no Church.

It’s similar to the idea of “the family.”  Without love and a sense of belonging, the notion of “the family” doesn’t really exist.  Love and belonging are essential to the family.  In just the same way, charity, sacrifice, and generosity are essential to the nature of the Church.

And this is really a beautiful thing to consider.  Because when the Church puts her hands out and asks for money, two things happen.  First, the Church shows its own humility, its own weakness, its own dependence on others.  And, second, it allows us who are part of the Church to “be” the Church, to “be” that entity in the world which is defined by “giving.”

It’s a mystery—to some extent: why does the Church always have her hands out, asking for money?  Well, to care for those in need, and to also care for herself.  She is, quite literally, a beggar who begs not for her own gain, but for the sharing of the good news of salvation—at least, ideally.

But whether or not people give to the Church depends a lot on how they value the work and the mission of the Church.  For instance, every Wednesday at school they have muffins for sale.  And they’re only 50 cents.  But I never pay just 50 cents; I always pay more.  Why?  Because the school is worth it—and I like the muffins.

Or when somebody spends hundreds of dollars for season tickets to the Packers, they do it because they value the Packer experience.  When I go to a concert, I don’t mind paying $40, or whatever the cost is, because it’s something I value.  A couple of years ago the seminary I had attended was collecting for repairs to the monastery bell tower.  And I thought that was a worthy cause, so I wrote a check to help out with that. 

People give toward what they value—whether they give their time, their efforts, or their money.  If it’s something we value, we tend to feel better about writing a check or putting money into the hands of those asking for it. 

A difficulty we face today, however, is the value our society gives to things like faith, and Church, and God.  And while we can’t change the collective mind of society, we can certainly check our own minds and hearts when it comes to the value we place on our faith, and the value we place on being part of a community of faith.  A good question we can each ponder (including myself) is: Does my giving reflect the value I attach to my faith (according to what I can afford)?  

Or, maybe the question can be more directed to volunteerism: Does my giving of time and efforts reflect the value I attach to my faith, to my Church?  Maybe, maybe not.  But it’s a question we can each consider—not only for ourselves, but also for those (including the Church herself) who can benefit from our giving.

Why does the Church always have her hands out asking for money?  Why am I doing it today?  Well, because the Church is designed by God to be a beggar.  And, second, as a way to encourage each of us to “be” the Church, to “be” a community built on faith, and hope, and...charity.