10/28/18 “Money or Mercy?” by Nancy Petty
Text: Mark 10:46-52
This sermon is not the sermon I imagined at the beginning of this week. That sermon began with a somewhat hilarious story about our Pullen staff meeting on Monday and us, your staff, trying to negotiate how we might buy a Mega Millions lottery ticket and split the pot if we won. Suffice it to say that our negotiations broke down at the point of deciding on the rules around how much of our communal fortune we would give to the church and what the church might expect from us. Yes, the frenzy earlier this week of that 1.6 billion dollar jackpot got hold of us and for a moment, well, we kind of lost our bearings a bit. Now I will add one footnote here: I am aware that if we had won that jackpot, this would be an unforgettable Harvest Sunday sermon. But that sermon is not to be.
But neither is this the sermon I imagined when I met with my lectionary group at lunchtime on Wednesday. There we discussed the blind beggar, Bartimaeus, who sat by the roadside and we wondered with one another why Jesus responded to him in the way he did, asking, “What do you want me to do for you?” Was it not obvious what the man wanted? To be able to see again! To not have to sit by the roadside and beg for what he needed because the eyes of world that could see chose not to see him. Was it not obvious what Bartimaeus wanted? To not have to beg to have his basic needs met but rather to be able to afford healthcare so he could go to the eye doctor and possibly have a doctor restore his sight by removing what may have been simply cataracts that blurred his vision. Was it not obvious to Jesus—the healer, the one who can see us at a distance and know us—as Bartimaeus cried out “have mercy on me” the pain this blind beggar felt? Was it not obvious? So why the question? Why did Jesus ask, “What do you want me to do for you?” Was it not obvious that the man wanted to be healed? And that is the sermon I thought I would be preaching today. A sermon about healing, and specifically where we need healing when it comes to our American values around money and budgets and even our church budget. Most of us don’t need the kind of healing Bartimaeus was seeking—healing from physical blindness. But oh my goodnes, do we in this country need some healing. Healing from the blindness of unchecked capitalism and greed. We, too, need to cry “have mercy.”
In an imaginative and playful moment I wanted to suggest this morning an answer Jesus’ question, “What do you want me to do for you?” “Well, Jesus,” I imagined saying, “I want you to raise Pullen’s budget in full by December 31 so we can get on with doing justice, and loving kindness, and walking humbly in the new year. I want you to inspire 300 or more family units to pledge this budget so that our work of radical welcome and radical inclusion can continue. I want you to remind the Pullen people that their money in community can do so much more than it can individually. I want you to say to the Pullen people that giving of their resources to your work in the world, whatever those resources may be, will change their lives.” That’s what I want you to do for me. But then I heard Jesus say, “that’s your job.” And I remembered that Jesus always speaks truth and that he drives a hard bargain!
In my serious thinking, I wanted, in this sermon, to think with you about what of our American values need healing as they relate to money and wealth. Where is our blindness when it comes to our money and having wealth? What is enough and what isn’t enough? I imagined talking with you about the American value that says everything is an investment and we should always be focused on the return. I thought about challenging that value and suggesting that not every good investment has an obvious return that can be calculated in a graph on paper.
I thought about that American value that suggest that our worth is tied to the amount of money we make; a value that in reality devalues so many of us. How it leaves us feeling less than, not worthy or deserving, feeling like we don’t measure up or belong in certain places. Or that American value that proposes and advises that our safety and security is connected to how large our bank accounts are. The narrative that tells us there is not enough and that we should fear this imagined scarcity. Or that great American lie that reminds us everywhere we look that money is what buys our happiness. Or the American way and life that promotes individual ownership over a shared communal collaborative. We need healing. We need healing for the pain of these values that have gone amok in this country. We need healing for the pain we are in because, while money does matter, excess wealth begins to erode the well being of a country and community’s citizens. But still, that’s not the sermon this morning.
And neither would this sermon turn out to be a rewriting of Pullen’s money autobiography—another angle I imagined for this Harvest/Pledge Sunday. I have not shown up today to challenge the narrative that we are not a wealthy church—a false story we have told ourselves for far too long. But I will add this footnote: history shows that we are a wealthy church and a generous people. Our money autobiography tells the story that when there is a need, our people respond with great generosity. Our money autobiography tells the story that the people of Pullen believe so much in the ministry and mission of this church that we are willing to keep giving more of our money AND our time and talents to support its mission on greater levels. Yes, our money autobiography reveals that we are pledging procrastinators. But it also reveals that in the end we support one another and our church and the critical work we do as a community inside and outside these walls to show God’s love to each other and the world.
Our money autobiography includes chapters from our elders on topics like: stewardship as a part of discipleship; tithing as a Christian practice and Biblical principle; giving from a place of gratitude rather than guilt; and giving to the church out of a sense of duty and obligation. All important chapters. Now, new chapters are being added to our money autobiography by our young adults. Chapters with titles like: My money in community can do more; I give to my church to serve others; and It’s all about the mission. But I will leave all that for another Harvest/Pledge Sunday sermon. For that, as it turns out, would not be the sermon for today, either.
This morning, the sermon that I need and am betting that maybe you need is to hear someone say from a Christian pulpit that what happened yesterday in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, at the Tree of Life Synagogue is beyond heartbreaking. Maybe you need to hear, like I do, someone say that such a horrific act of violence happening in 2018 in the United States speaks to the moral and spiritual bankruptcy of our nation. To hear acknowledged and named that the civil discourse in this country has sadly become such that it incites individuals to send mail bombs to other individuals; and leads a man wielding a gun into a place of worship shouting that a specific ethnic group must die and then opening fire on them killing individuals as they worship the God who created us all. Maybe you too need to hear someone say and say yourself, “God forgive and have mercy on us all.”
Maybe like me, you needed to come to a place where you knew other people of faith would gather who condemn such acts of hatred and violence. Maybe like me, you needed to come gather in community with others who believe ultimately that love is stronger than hate and who still have hope that the arch of the moral universe bends toward justice. Maybe you, like me, needed to be in a place this morning with other people who often sing “light dawns on a weary world when eyes begin to see all people’s dignity” and really believe it. Maybe you, like me, needed to be in a church that values inviting a Rabbi and an Imam to preach from this pulpit. Maybe like me, you needed to come this morning to this place because you know here our children and youth can be themselves and seek an authentic faith—a faith that honors who they are and the journey they are on. Maybe, like me, you showed up this morning because you are grateful that every Tuesday and Thursday we open our doors to people who are hungry and invite them in to our building to sit down for a healthy meal and talk to someone who cares for them. Maybe you came this morning because you needed to see your Circle friend or to connect with those you serve on committee or council with or sing in the choir with or sit in a circle with at the LGBTQ straight alliance support group or go with to the local mosque each week for prayers. Or maybe, like me, you came here this morning searching for God, and here in this place no one tells you how that seeking must look.
Hopefully, like me, you came here this morning because you had a feeling that here, in this community, you would find someone who cares about you. Someone who would be willing to sit with you and listen to your life and what worries you and what feeds your soul. Someone who might see the world as you do. Someone who might have a different perspective that would give you a new hope. Someone who might offer a hug or a smile. Someone who can share your pain and/or your joy. Someone who shares your passion. Someone who can’t carry a tune like you but who loves to sing just the same. Someone who will speak your name to you. Someone who believes in the radical welcome and radical inclusion that we strive for here. Someone who believes that our faith calls us make a difference in the world through radical acts of hospitality. Someone who believes in the social gospel. Someone who can say they don’t know the answer to our immigration crisis but who cares about the thousands of refugees traveling in caravan toward our border.
I can’t stand in this pulpit and ask you to give your money and your time and talents to this institution simply for the survival of the institution. But I can, with boldness and integrity and with an unbounded love for this church and her people, stand here and ask you to give—and give generously—to the mission of this church. Because what this church stands for and has stood for for 134 years, has made and is making a difference in our lives and in the lives of real people, and in our community and throughout the world.
I would imagine that you are wondering if this sermon is about money or mercy. The truth is, it is about both. It is about money because the church needs your financial support along with your time and talents to continue its good work. And it’s about mercy because right now our world is in desperate need of God’s mercy.
