Two members of Hampstead Parish Church are shipwrecked on a desert island. One of them begins to panic. “We’re going to die. There’s no food here and no one will find us.” But the other remains totally calm and says, “I earn over £1 million a year”. “You’re crazy” says the first man, “where thousands of miles from anyone with no food. We’re going to die.” But the other man remains calm and says again, “I earn over £1 million a year”. The first man is exasperated and says, “You’re crazy what good is your money to you now?!” He replies calmly “I earn over £1 million a year and I pledge 5% of my net income on the committed giving scheme. The vicar will find us.”
A silly joke that illustrates a less honourable motive for giving to the church. But one which does perhaps incidentally points us to a responsible use of wealth. Because passages like our gospel reading from Mark could just leave us feeling very dispirited when it comes to thinking about Christianity and wealth. In a place like Hampstead the famous “camel through the eye of a needle” could lead us to believe that Christianity just has nothing very realistic to say to us about our money and how we use it. So let’s begin by saying a few things about this passage.
The first point to note is that this story is not solely, even principally, about the dangers of wealth so much as it is about the broader question of the possibilities of redemption. The point Jesus is making is that it’s impossible for a human being to achieve their own redemption through their own merits. That contrasts with what many people thought at the time. They believed that wealth was given by God as a reward for virtue, for those who were keeping the Law. But this is not so, and whether people are virtuous or not, no one can justify themselves through their own endeavours. And that’s illustrated in Jesus’ central statement in this passage: “Children, how hard it is to enter the kingdom of God!” That’s for all of us, not just the rich. And then the most important statement in this passage is Jesus’ response to the question “who then can be saved?” “For mortals it is impossible, but not for God; for God all things are possible.” Even the redemption of all people, in spite of ourselves, through the Cross of Christ.
But it is true that Jesus does, in this story, single out the rich as those facing particular obstacles to that redemptive work of God in our lives. And that seems to be because, as Jesus says at the end of this passage, God finds it easier to get through to people who find themselves on the other side of the balance of power: those who are last, those who are persecuted, those who have made sacrifices. It is poor Lazarus who finds his way into the bosom of Abraham and not rich Dives. This is one of the things that makes Christianity so countercultural: the wealth that our society views as an answer to our problems, in spiritual terms actually raises very significant problems. Leaving aside the nonsense of the prosperity gospel, there is no serious Christian thinker who has ever denied that wealth constitutes a major obstacle to receiving God because it is the thing that can most easily become an idol that takes God’s place.
But neither is that to say that Jesus’ advice to the rich young man would be his advice to each one of us. It’s always dangerous to reason directly from the particular to the general. And one can think of other characters in the New Testament for whom total renunciation of wealth does not appear to have been their Christian calling, indeed perhaps that is not the most mature, demanding calling for rich people. Think of Joseph of Arimathea, a follower of Christ who was a member of the Council and therefore undoubtedly wealthy and powerful. His calling is not to give all that up but to use his influence to go to Pilate and ask for Jesus’ body. His calling was not renunciation but risk — putting his wealth and influence at risk of being taken away for showing his Christian allegiance.
So in this Stewardship month we are required to ask, what is the calling of the rich Christian today? Well, clearly it is one of generosity and I know that there are many people sitting in this church this morning who are extremely generous in supporting various charitable causes. But this is where those questions of sacrifice, of redemption, of risk, and of making ourselves open to God, require us to think very carefully about our definition of the word “generous”. Most people today think of charitable giving as the handing over of some arbitrary portion of our surplus income (as defined by ourselves) to the causes that we select. That’s a noble thing that brings about a lot of good. But what is very clear to me from Scripture, from the tradition of Christian thought and from modern theological reasoning is that, viewing our financial giving to the church in this way is inadequate. Just viewing the church as one more charity to support with our spare cash is not a good enough expression of Christian discipleship and faithfulness to our Creator.
The boards at the back of church and the leaflets that have been produced will tell you about the current problematic financial situation of this church. It will tell you that we are presently running a deficit of £2500 a month, that if giving doesn’t increase we will have to make cuts. But as a curate at this church, I’m able to preach on stewardship without any particular vested interest in the long-term sustainability of this parish as an institution. From my perspective, that is not, by any means, the most important question. I simply want to reflect with you on what it means for us to be spiritually healthy and faithful to a God who will hold us to account for how we live our lives, in an area of great affluence.
The Church of England recommends that all regular communicant members set aside 5% of their net income to give to the work of the church. Other charitable giving comes on top of that. And it gives that advice partly because, in spite of what many think, nearly all of the historic resources of the church have gone, partly because the clergy pension fund is now pretty much beyond hope. But they give that advice primarily for the reasons I have been discussing – because of the well tested truth that money is deeply symbolic and until we get our use of the money right we will not be right in our relationship with God and in our discipleship of Christ.
So why should our giving to the church have this special priority? Why is the church any more important than any other charity? Well I hope that we answer that question from this pulpit week after week. I hope we reflect with you on the implications of believing in a God who has revealed himself to be at work in the redemption of the world through the bringing in of his kingdom and who has revealed the church to be the continuing presence of the body of his Son on Earth. Christ has no hands but our hands, says Teresa of Avila.
But this morning I think we can do no better than to point to Tobias and Winifred and ask ourselves the questions, why are we glad that they are getting baptised and what impact do we hope that their association with the church will make on their lives? There are many, strong powerful forces shaping western society today. There are many young people growing up with little or no moral formation, little or no sense of meaning and purpose in their lives, little or no sense of being valuable human beings who exist as a gift of love. It’s very easy to malign the church and look at the church’s weaknesses. But I believe we regularly take for granted how fundamentally important the Church is as a force for promoting goodness and value, meaning and purpose in a world where nihilism has become rampant. The dark forces of this world – war, rampant commodification, drug addiction – all these forces are extremely well funded. Our seriousness about the Church as a force for light and truth will be reflected in how well we fund it.
And I have no truck with the man I heard on the radio this morning lamenting the Islamisation of Great Britain. But it does seem to me that if the number of Muslims attending acts of worship in the country surpass the number of Christians doing so (as many predict they will) it will not be a sign of the truth and superiority of Islam so much as a reflection of the fact that British Christians have just lost the sense of the significance of what they believe and failed to put their energy and resources into it.
And although I am speaking in broader terms about the national Church here, we might also ask ourselves, what other organisations are there here in Hampstead with over 400 members that meets weekly to promote the virtues of justice, peace and love, to offer unconditional welcome and to reflect deeply on the direction and purpose of our lives? Isn’t the value of that something we take for granted and don’t we want to support that in the rest of this city and this nation? Last year this parish cut its contribution to the diocesan common fund, which supports the ministry of the Church in poorer parts of London. Our contribution now barely covers our own costs and whereas we have for the last 30 years been the largest contributor in the Edmonton Episcopal area, we have now dropped down to seventh. Surely we don’t want that trend to continue.
So what I’m saying is that we are faced with two choices. We can view giving to the church as charitable giving from our surplus income that doesn’t stretch us or cause any risk or sacrifice. We can nudge our parish’s income up to cover our deficits and carry on with business as usual. And we can ignore the more challenging Bible passages that put great demands on those who have wealth.
Or we can hear the words from the letter to the Hebrews that the word of God is living and active, demanding an enthusiastic and sacrificial response from us and we can use our money to support the church’s work in bringing about the kind of world that we want to see for ourselves and for our children like Tobias and Winifred. If this congregation did pledge at the level the Church of England recommends, just imagine what we could do with that money. We could take on a youth worker to further our work with children and young people. We could set up new projects to engage with isolated and excluded people in the community. Or just as our Victorian forbears built a school to serve the parish, we could respond to our aging population by building a church-sponsored nursing and care home. Why not? Why not think ambitiously about how we can further the ministry of God’s church in this place in the twenty-first century, to bring light into darkness, to share with others the peace we have found in God?
Tobias and Winifred are the future of the church and the future of our world. As we celebrate their baptisms today, let’s recommit ourselves to making this a world where the Body of Christ is strong and shines as a beacon of hope to those who live in darkness.