A few weeks back I was standing down there at the bottom of the center aisle, basket in hand, as the kids brought their offerings.
I love that moment; the kids are adorable, of course, and they have no spatial awareness, so they’re always running into each other like bumper cars, bouncing off each other, stunned for a second. Sometimes they want me to notice their outfit, or sometimes I make fun of one of them for wearing an Astros jersey or something. I love it; it’s just fun for that brief moment to see them, to hear them. Sometimes a kid will want to have an entire conversation; and I don’t mind it; I love that too. Because, honestly, a lot of the time the kid with something to say really has something to say; and I’ve learned from one or two of these kids. I wish I could mic them up, for some of them are philosophers.
Friends, I want to talk to you about money today, about stewardship, your support. Please don’t tune out; this is a spiritual matter. It’s important. But I want to talk about it by talking about what this kid said to me the other day, our conversation we had right down there at the bottom of the center aisle.
This kid, after putting money in the basket, he looked me right in the eye and asked, “Why does the Church need money? Why don’t you just use your powers?” Interesting questions, both of them: Why does the Church need money? Why don’t you just use your powers? At first, I didn’t know what to say. I started wondering what my powers were, wondering what powers he thought I had. Maybe he thinks I’m some sort of religious Dr. Strange; I doubt he thinks I’m anything like Iron Man. Anyway, in a second or two I gained my footing and said, “You’ve got powers too! And God wants us to use them together.” Now, I don’t know if that satisfied his curiosity; he didn’t take his money out of the basket, so that’s good. Anyway, he’s probably forgotten all about it. But I haven’t. I’ve been thinking about it for a couple weeks now.
Many of you have heard me preach about the spiritual good of giving to your parish, the spiritual necessity of it. If you have any familiarity with the Bible at all, any reverence for it, you know—as I’ve preached many times in the past—that contributing to the Christian community to which you belong—in not just time and talent but also in treasure—is a spiritual obligation, that it’s not optional at all, no matter who you are, no matter the circumstance.
When the Hebrews escaped Egypt, God commanded that his people would be a people who share their goods with one another. When Luke described the Christian community in Acts of the Apostles, he quoted verbatim the passage from Deuteronomy that described this sharing community; the Church was to be a community that shared everything.[1] Christians are to be people who give materially to God; God gives himself materially to us in creation, in the incarnation and in the Eucharist. Mary gave of herself materially, offering her flesh in the birth of Jesus. Christians, to get to the point, are meant to do the same; they are to give materially—not just good words or good thoughts, present to the community not only as consumers.
And in practice—and again, I’m just talking Bible here—what this looked like in the New Testament is the sharing of money. Not just money, of course, but also love and service. But money too—giving to God what belonged to God.[2] You see this in Paul, when he went hat-in-hand to Corinth to collect money for Jerusalem. The Corinthians were faithful people, strong believers, but Paul said to them: be excellent in this “gracious act” as well.[3] That is, their financial contribution. Some, of course, didn’t buy into this; even today, even good Catholics will ask me why they need to give money to the Church. I never really know what to say other than to ask them to read the Bible. It’s actually pretty clear in there. But maybe start by reading Acts 5 and the story of Ananias and Sapphira, a haunting story: when they tried to hide money back from the Church—money that spiritually they should have known belonged to God—for keeping it for themselves, they dropped dead at the feet of Peter. The last words they heard were Peter saying to them, “You have lied not to human beings, but to God.”[4] It’s quite a story. But I don’t want to frighten you or insult you. I just want to point out that—at least biblically speaking—my telling you that you are obligated to give to the Church is really solid advice. I would ask you to think about it, because what if what the Bible says about your soul and money is true? I’d hate to think I never warned you.
But let’s talk about St. Rita, about this Christian community. If you’re visiting, please apply what I am saying to your parish. I was talking with a parishioner the other day, and he had been listening to a podcast—Fr. Mike Schmitz, I think—about just this very topic, and it was beautiful because you could tell the penny had dropped; he got it (or I hope he did; we’ll see); he got the spiritual reasons he needed to give to the Church and especially to his parish. And what he said to me was so encouraging. He said, “Father, if you need more, tell us. Tell us you need more, and we’ll step up.” Again, I was so encouraged. You people inspire me, teach me; I love you. Father, if you need more, tell us. I’m grateful for that brother.
Friends, we need more. Now, I know what some are thinking: St. Rita doesn’t look like we’re in need of much. But in fact, we are. Part of that is due to the fact that giving has not kept pace with inflation; as everywhere, the cost of keeping the lights on has increased. We stretch every dollar we get, but as you’ve felt it, so have we. But, of course, there’s something even more important than that. The thing is we don’t want simply to maintain the place; we want this community to thrive. We—in all reality—have a chance to make this parish one of the most vibrant Catholic parishes in the country, but it will take a lot—first, it will take a lot spiritually; but it will also take a lot materially. The reason I say we need more is not just for the sake of maintenance but, beautifully, for greater mission. There is so much more we could do as a parish if we all prayed and made even just a modest increase in what we give to St. Rita.
For example, nearly 25% of total giving last year came from just 400 families that gave between $2,000 and $5,000. That’s awesome, 400 families—but still nothing close to what the Bible would envision for a community this size. But for the sake of experiment, let’s focus on that 25%: if each of these families increased their giving by $1,200, that’s like around half a million dollars. And that would be a gamechanger for this parish, a gamechanger for the ministries we offer and could offer. Just another bit of food for thought: Wednesday Nights at St. Rita is a beautiful thing we do; every Wednesday we feed over 200 people for free, friends and parishioners who gather in fellowship; and already so many beautiful things have come from those Wednesdays. All of you are welcome. But that costs about $60,000 or more a year to operate. I just wonder what more we could do with $500,000. Our ministerial impact, our outreach, would change dramatically for the better. We’ve already dramatically increased our support of youth and young adult ministry; we hope to do the same for Hispanic ministries soon. But there is so much more we could do if more of us thought about giving differently, more biblically. I know I’m speaking crassly about money here, but the reality is that ministry has always required funding, always sacrificial giving—not afterthought giving, not what’s-leftover giving. What we could do together if together we could do more! And I’m just talking about 25% of the people who give; what if everyone made a modest increase? There’s no telling what we could do.
And so, that’s the ask. First, thank you for all your prayers and faithfulness, all you do and give. But please pray, ask if you can make just a modest increase this year. Father, if you need more, tell us. Okay, I’m telling you. We are so blessed in this parish, but let’s think about how we can bless each other. If—again, for the sake of experiment—but make $250,000 a year (before taxes, of course, because God comes before Uncle Sam) and your financial contribution is $2,500 (1%)—which does happen—that’s not even close to being biblically faithful; if that’s your situation, we love you, but we need more. There is so much we could do as Catholics in this city and this world, if we just did a bit more here. It’s like we’re a sleeping giant, we Catholics; we just need to wake up.
Thanks for listening to me. I know we Catholics aren’t used to talking about stewardship so bluntly like this, which is a cultural feature of Catholicism that needs to change. So, I appreciate you. I love you. And please know I’ll do everything I can to be a good steward right alongside you, and to make sure this parish manages your gifts wisely and always for the greater glory of God. Again, I love you. Thank you. Amen.
[1] Acts 4:34; Deuteronomy 15:4
[2] Matthew 22:21
[3] 2 Corinthians 8:7
[4] Acts 5:4
© 2023 Rev. Joshua J. Whitfield
