Phyllis A. Tickle. Greed.  New York: Oxford University Press, 2004.

          It is indeed notable that this book is part of a series of lectures sponsored by Oxford University Press and the New York Public Library on the Seven Deadly Sins. Although sin has been long declared dead along with the idea of God, it seems to be doing quite well.

            My concern was particularly sparked by two words which were discussed in the book.

            The first was Thrift. It is rather sobering to consider that Thrift has been depicted as a false virtue, an extremely deceitful covering used by avarice.  Just when I had thought we might have found an alternative to the rampant materialism of this time and place, the house of cards folds in upon itself.

            I mean, it is okay to indulge yourself a little with the profit from your hard work and toil. This isn’t greed. Then again, there are so many needs in the world that cry out to us in the midst of our abundance, and in the midst of maintaining our abundance over against the rest of the world.

            However, it is not like one person is going to save the world, is it? But one person might be saved.

            I would take that as a radical assertion of the Gospel. That our basic greed, our clingingness, prevents us from fulfilling the claims of the gospel upon us. Few of us are ready to give our father’s clothes back to him like St. Francis. Nor are we free to follow the call to go into the lands of those who have always perceived us as enemies.

            True enough, if we go part of the way and store up enough and give part of it to other ministers, they may go for us.  Not everyone can be a missionary after all!! Nonetheless, the question of how much is enough to give still resounds upon our inward ears, especially if our goal is that everyone be saved. What is it that God requires of us? How can we receive even the calling if our hands are already full? What are our consciences allowing us to hear? What is it that prevents us from just letting go? Perhaps nothing more is necessary than a rethinking and returning. That may mean everything.

     Even more provocative for me, especially as I think of my profession, was the word Simony. I doubt that you could have grown up in a small town Mississippi Methodist church during the 60s and early 70s without hearing someone in the local church administration saying, “We’ll show ‘em. We will just quit paying our apportionments to the Conference. They got to learn they can’t come down here and force us to do anything.” Well, you would have heard that if you have grown up in a small town white Methodist church. It was the natural reaction to disagreement with the powers-that-be, especially on the matter of race (as if there were another issue at that time). I know, careful here, I might be tempted to call it what it is, especially after spending a goodly portion of my academic life studying this period, this place, this topic.

            The purpose of this action was apparent. They had done something with which we disagreed. Now it was time to reach for our big gun. Then we would see who had the best weapon. Unfortunately, it is not all past tense. It still goes on, is still the weapon of choice. Indeed, sometimes only the names of the issues have changed. Sometimes not even that.

            I’m not prepared to say it is, or was, totally inappropriate. It was certainly better than people voting en masse with their feet, either marching to a more congenial church or seimply keeping their feet propted up at home, which some chose to do. However, it almost assuredly was not the most Christian response, even to an improper action. Instead of turning the other cheek, it was a form of turning their cheek, a perversion of “more blessed to give than receive.” The purse string was the answer, spiritualized as part of stewardship, management of God’s resources entrusted to us.  After all, if they were not going to do the right thing with that money, it was our responsibility to make sure they could do nothing with it. The magic took place as local tithes and offerings were thus transformed into the exercise of power.  Ironic that the protest was over the use of ecclesiastical power and influence to enforce an unpopular racial policy. If that is what it was what it really was all about.

            Funny how sometimes it was an excuse just to keep the money at home, where charity really begins.  Some churches did set their money aside as a protest, but others just used it like some type of windfall release from a perceived oppressive tax. Some later sent in the money when their fears had been assuaged sufficiently. I doubt that most did.

            At best, it could be argued that some this tactic was a temporary response, a holding action, until consensus could be reached so that neither opposing side would be forced to give way to compulsion. This, however, never really seemed to be an option for either side.

            I suppose I could argue that our whole structure, any church structure, is tempted by this use of power, the power energized by the accumulation of capital. It takes on a life of its own on all levels, whether from the excess amount in our bank accounts, the collection of buildings and staff, or just the regular gathering in of offerings. Maybe this is why I always have understood the gospels, the life of Jesus, as profoundly anti-institutional, framed by his reaction to the church leaders of his day and marked and anticipatory of a different character. Ecclesiastical institutions have a way of attracting and concentrating this sort of power, becoming idols of a sort through the unique temptation to corrupt that money and establishment possess.

            Further, it is a danger of our systems for guaranteeing continuity in the pulpit.  I don’t believe the UMC has a monopoly on this. The workings of our system of appointments is just more visible, more open, with its inner workings of salary scale, political influence, grandstanding for the attention of the right people, etc. All this is barely perceptible to the laity, which gives them greater latitude in exaggerating the political connections that are part of this system.  Some Baptist ministers have pointed out to me that their congregational calling system is often fueled by networking among close ideological colleagues, the building of reputations, and the aspirations of being called to higher and greater, that is, more lucrative, pastorates.

            Maybe the early Quakers were right in their disdain of hired (hireling) clergy. Such a system requires much more of a reliance on the Spirit than we are commonly accustomed to or are comfortable with. It also undermines our supply of theological expertise and substitutes a dependence on the Spirit to teach us all things. Why trust the wistfulness of the Spirit when the Almighty dollar always shows up?

            Maybe the link between greed, power, and control needs to be explored in the context of the special temptations that the clergy seem to be drawn toward. Those unmentionable, except in the daily newspapers, are basically violations of trust. But whenever we tend to place our trust in something other than God, we have already succumbed to the temptation. At heart avarice is, as Tickle notes, idolatry.

            Besides, clergy are not the only ones in the church that have a problem with this. Hey, any excuse will do.

2/26/05