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Lectionary reading: The TWENTY-THIRD SUNDAY OF ORDINARY TIME - November 8, 2009 He sat down opposite the treasury, and watched the crowd putting money into the treasury. Many rich people put in large sums. THEY WANT MY MONEY by Larry Patten The phone rings. I answer and the person calling asks for Mr. Patten or Lawrence. I’m suspicious. Beware callers using the formal last name or legal first name. They really don’t want me. They are polite (at first). They, after all, represent the Police-Helping-Kids-Save-the-Arctic-At-School-I-Graduated-From semi-annual campaign to raise funds for homeless children, student scholarships or vanishing polar bears. Could I give just a little this year? Five hundred dollars? . . . in the realm of money Jesus appeared to be as relentlessly consistent with his concerns as his examples were wide-ranging. In the majority of situations I (politely) inform the caller that I appreciate their efforts and the cause they champion, but currently I don’t have a paying job. My family’s resources are tight and we just can’t provide support this year. My private joke (though I don’t say this to the so far polite caller) is that when I took leave-of-absence from church I also took leave-of-salary. Boo-hoo, woe is me. But it’s true. My wife and I must be careful with our spending. Hello freedom to write, goodbye pension plan accumulation. So I respond, “My family’s resources are blah, blah, blah . . .” “How about two hundred dollars instead?” “Did you hear what I said? No paying job--” “Well, if you put one hundred dollars on your credit card . . .” The caller reads their prompt script faster and more aggressively, politeness discarded like shrink wrap on hamburger. Dollar bills birth desperation. Treasure creates turmoil. Budgets badger us. It’s always been like this. Jesus grimaced. He witnessed (Mark 12) the not-so-polite aggressiveness of the scribes who “devour widows’ houses and for the sake of appearance say long prayers.” Those scribes flaunted wealth, power and status. I wonder how much I am like them? I wonder, even on leave-of-salary, how much as a middle-class American I’m more like the scribes than, say, that widow that appeared in the synagogue? Jesus watched. He observed a widow giving two copper coins. Giving all. Giving not from abundance, and certainly not giving to flaunt or impress, but giving to . . . give. I wonder if I’m like her at all? Recently I listened to an interview with Helen Thomas. As a White House correspondent, she’s covered every president since Kennedy. The interviewer asked her a long, convoluted query about why we’re experiencing the ridiculousness of non-stop news coverage and the loss of daily newspapers. She provided a one-word response. “Money.” Way too simple. And yet true. Jesus knew it. In the Gospels one of every six verses grapples with treasure. How you use it. How you abuse it. How you ignore it. How you lust for it. Want to talk about abortion, homosexuality, the rapture, divorce or a hundred other hot button issues roiling Christian faith? Fine, let’s debate or discuss ‘em. With some there will be barely a mention in the Bible. With others, there will be greater detail . . . and sometimes conflicting statements from one verse to another. But in the realm of money Jesus appeared to be as relentlessly consistent with his concerns as his examples were wide-ranging. Examples like the wicked tenants, paying Caesar or the importance of loving neighbor versus giving altar sacrifices. I could keep adding to that list, but I glanced only at Mark’s twelfth chapter—where those three examples join the widow’s coins—and found those! Examples everywhere! What devours us? What curdles our faith? What continually scratches at the door of our soul? Ask Helen Thomas. Jesus grimaced. Jesus watched. I know when the phone rang and someone asked for Mr. Patten that she or he grasped a script. I know in part because I’ve done it myself. In the church, I’ve asked for money. In my support of non-profits and causes, I’ve cold-called folks seeking their support. We, with malice toward none, prepare our scripts and plot methods to obtain money. Let’s be honest. Money isn’t bad. If I wanted to create another list, I could share how money helped positively change the world . . . when Martin Luther King Jr. and others boycotted those Montgomery busses they partly confronted a variation of hoarding treasure. Like or dislike Barack Obama, his presidential campaign revealed the power of the small donor. But still, in Mark’s way of helping me remember divine treasure, I watch the widow. Save for One, no one noticed her. She didn’t follow a script. She quietly shared a gift. They call. They want my money. God calls. God wants my true gifts. in Peace, Larry Patten
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