This Week from Mitch

Dear Brothers and Sisters in Christ,

Not many people have a 5-story tall monument that reminds them of their fears. I do. It's a cell phone tower. It stands in the back of Trinity Episcopal Church in Waterloo, IA. In my heart it stands as a testament to my inexperience as a priest, the grip of corporate anxiety, and a reminder of the short-sighted thinking that often goes along with a fear of money.

Trinity Church is a small church on the edge of a small town. It was a merger between three churches that had all closed. I was 25 when I became its rector. Shortly after I started work, I was approached with the fact that our church was running out of money. That first year I remember going door to door begging for people to pledge so that there would be enough money to pay for me and our two part-time staff persons. Most importantly, I remember being afraid of not having insurance. Every vestry meeting was filled with a fear of money. I remember staying up nights racked with worry, and thinking about the church almost 24/7. The church was (and still largely is) my life. I remember the royal “we” being used – "we just need to raise more money or cut expenses," was the business school 101 refrain. I knew full well that "we" meant me, and I was scared. So when a vestry member came to me with a cell phone tower salesman, I sat down and had the meeting. For 1,000 dollars a month (I think/hope it's more than that now) the church would "host" a cell phone tower. I agreed, the finance committee agreed, the vestry agreed. The tower was built.

This week we read about Jesus overturning the tables of the money changers in the temple. It's a great story, filled with whips, doves, and images of gold coins falling on the floor. The refrain "Stop making my Father’s house a marketplace!" echoes loudly. 

 I wonder where the fear came from that started the sale of animals. Was it Herod raiding the temple treasury in 70AD? Was it unfair taxation? Was it construction that went over time and over budget? Whatever it was, I bet the rationale for the selling of animals was sound. I know the rationale behind my cell tower was. I also wonder what that church 20 years later could have hosted in that back corner. A baseball field for the local little league? A community garden? A plot for native prairie grass to grow? A labyrinth or an outdoor chapel? I wonder if the 1,000 dollars a month was worth it.

 Soon you’ll be hearing from our Vestry as part of a spring giving appeal, and I want you to know that for us the call to stewardship doesn’t come from a place of fear. We give to St. Martin's for the ministry and mission of the church. We give so that prices can stay low on our preschool, so young families can afford to participate. We give so we can pay workers living wages, so we can house refugees, feed the homeless, and send chaplains out to visit the sick. We give so we can provide Safe Space Dinners, host AA and NA meetings. We give so we can offer a place of faith and growth, and so that the house of God is kept focused on the mission and ministry of the church.

 If you haven't pledged for this year, I ask that you make a pledge. If you have pledged, once again, thank you. This week, I ask that you each consider what your giving means. I have done ministry long enough now to know that a church committed to the service of Christ will always, no matter its size, live close to the edge of its means. Living on this edge also means living with the uncertainty of faith and the understanding that God will provide. I once forgot this, and a cell phone tower now looms over God's sanctuary. It's not the same as a money changers table, but in my heart, it feels that way. As we read this week's gospel, I do not judge the Pharisees. I know their fear. Also, as we read it, I give thanks for each of you who have given and helped keep St. Martin's true to its call to love God and neighbor.

By your gifts, we choose a better Way.

In Christ,

Mitch