Come with me to old Istanbul, where a destitute man is sitting at the side of the road, hand stretched out, pleading for any little piece of charity he can find. Actually, it was a good day for him, because within an hour or so of the start of his daily ritual, a passerby tore off a piece of bread from the loaf she was carrying and handed it to him. It was more than a scrap - large enough, in fact, to give him a few hours of something in his belly. But it was just bread - no butter or jam to put on it, no gravy to dip it in. So, hoping to add some flavor to his meal, he went to a nearby inn and asked for a little jam. The innkeeper turned him away with nothing, but our enterprising friend sneaked into the kitchen when the innkeeper was distracted, and saw a large pot of soup cooking over the fire. He licked his lips and held his piece of bread over the steaming pot, hoping to capture a bit of flavor from the delicious vapor. But the innkeeper now saw him, seized him by the arm, and accused him of stealing soup.
“I took no soup,” protested the poor man. “I was only smelling the steam.”
“Then you must pay for the smell,” snarled the innkeeper.
Our friend, of course, had no money, so the angry innkeeper dragged him before the judge. The judge listened to the innkeeper’s complaint, rubbed his chin, and hummed himself a little tune as he hatched a wise verdict. “So, you demand payment for the smell of your soup?” he asked.
“Yes!” yelled the innkeeper.
“Then I myself will pay you,” said the judge, “and I will pay for the smell of your soup with the sound of my money.” With that he took two coins from his pocket, jingled them together and put them back. “Case closed,” he bellowed.
Or as Paul puts it in his First Letter to Timothy that we just read, “The love of money is the root of all kinds of court cases – civil, criminal, corporate, international – you name it.” No he didn’t. But neither did he write what he’s often accused of writing by people who don’t know verse 10 as well as they should.
There are two common misquotes of that verse. One is “money is the root of all evil”, but the text clearly says that it’s ‘the love’ of money that’s a root of evil. So Money in itself doesn’t create evil, but, I think you’ll agree, it still has a sinister power that attracts our attention, inflames our affection, and secures our destruction. The other misquote is that the love of money is THE root of all evil. Again, this isn’t what X just read. No, Paul says that, the love of money is A root of kinds of evil. Because clearly – just look at your Facebook feed - the love of money is not behind many of the evils of the world – like power, revenge, anger, prejudice, apathy – these are all powerful motivators of sin – maybe even more powerful than the love of money. So, that clears that up. “The love of money is a root of all kinds of evil.” What shall we talk about now? There’s a lot to pick from:
Today is the start of our annual stewardship campaign, and so you’d expect me to pick one of the money sentences. There are lots, like “Those who want to be rich fall into temptation and are trapped by many senseless and harmful desires that plunge people into ruin and destruction.” That’s a great stewardship message. Then there’s, “As for those who in the present age are rich, command them not to be haughty or to set their hopes on the uncertainty of riches but rather on God.” That’s a great one too. And what about “Rich people are to do good, to be rich in good works, generous, and ready to share, thus storing up for themselves the treasure of a good foundation for the future, so that they may take hold of the life that really is life.” Are you basking in the warm glow of the stewardship sermon yet?
Well, let me go somewhere you might not expect. I’m not going to talk about money, even though the epistle and the Gospel lessons are full of it. It’s like Paul and Jesus place the money ball on a tee and hand the preacher a driver and say there you go. But I’m not playing that shot. (That’s the only golf metaphor I’m going to use on this Ryder Cup weekend.) Instead let’s talk about something more important and interesting than money. Something we strive for, something that drives each moment of our waking day.
It leads people to do heroic things, and foolish things, holy things, and cowardly things, glorious things and shameful things. It's the nagging, eternal, cannot-be-silenced voice that won’t leave you alone, but is almost impossible to find. “There is great gain in godliness combined with ... contentment, for if we have food and clothing, we will be content with these.” Yes. It’s the holy grail, it’s contentment. Of course, contentment is often confused with money – they can look pretty similar to the unspiritual eye. That unspiritual person thinks they can see contentment and they pursue it, but what they’re actually chasing is money, they confuse the two and end up unfulfilled.
I read an article online with the heading ‘9 ways to know you are discontent’. Usually I love those over-generalized, hyper-simplistic, but vaguely scientific sounding articles, and I click on that bait. Here’s what I found, courtesy of a man named Vuyo Ngcakani.
1. You want more. Not the Oliver Twist meekly asking for a second helping of gruel kind of more, but the millionaire kind of wanting more … when asked how much money is enough, John D.
Rockefeller replied, “just a little bit more.”
2. You envy others. One of the tragedies of human nature is that we tend to look at what we don’t have and envy, rather than looking at what we do have with gratitude. So, I can walk past a
Maserati in parking lot and feel envy, but not even notice the much-driven small sedan now on its third owner. We’re hardwired to spot what we lack, rather than being grateful for what we have. To be in the top 1% of global income, all you need I a take home salary of $65,000.
3. You focus on activities that will get you more. And so your health, relationships, and mental balance suffer.
4. You don’t appreciate what’s in front of you. The new purchase glints in the sun and fills you with delight. Then you get it home and it loses its sheen. Then the cycle starts again.
5. When you’re with your family and friends, you’re not satisfied. Of all the nine signs, this was the one that hit me the hardest. I’m usually where I should be – at least my body is. The problem can be with my mind. Your mind is where your priorities are.
6. You upgrade to the next generation product all the time.
7. You don’t celebrate other people's successes.
8. You brag about your achievements.
9. You’re a loner.
Because if someone has numbers 1-8, then no one will want to be around them. So how do we get that ultimate prize – the gift of contentment. Elsewhere, Paul gives us a clue. “I have learned to be content in all circumstances” he says. The good news is it can be learned. The bad news is it has to be learned. Just as God grows patience in you when you are forced to wait for something, so learning to be content only happens when are conscious of lacking something. We learn it by experiencing it. So when you choose to fast, when you willingly give up food in order to pray, for example, when you choose to be hungry, then God teaches how to be content with hunger. When you choose not to upgrade your phone to the latest model, God teaches you to be content
with a less fancy phone. When I wish I could drive a newer car, live in a nicer house, afford more lavish vacations, those hunger pangs, those deep stirrings, yearnings for more are God’s way of teaching me that I have enough. I’m called to give thanks for having enough. Because contentment comes when know you have enough. I’d like to finish this stewardship Sunday seron with a prayer. It was written by the French spiritual writer Michel Quoist in the 1950s and I’ve edited it heavily because this is family show.
Prayer before a Five Pound Note
Lord, see this note, it frightens me.
You know its secrets, you know its history.
How heavy it is!
It scares me, for it cannot speak.
It will never tell all it hides in its creases....
It will never tell the struggles and efforts it represents,
All the disillusionment and slighted dignity.
It is stained with sweat and blood.
It is laden with all the weight of human toil.
It frightens me.
For it has death on its conscience,
All the poor fellows who killed themselves for it....
To possess it for a few hours,
To have through it,
A little pleasure, a little joy, a little life....
Through how many hands has it passed?
And what has it done though its long silent trips?
It has offered roses to the radiant fiancée.
It has paid for the baptismal party and fed the growing baby.
Provided bread for the family table.
Because of it, there was laughter among the young,
And joy among the adults.
It has paid for the saving visit of the doctor,
It has bought the book that taught the youngster,
It has clothed the young girl.
But it has sent the letter breaking the engagement,
It has broken the morals of the young,
And made of the adult a thief.
It has paid for the weapons of the crime
And for the wood of the coffin.
O Lord, I offer you this note with its joyous mysteries, and its sorrowful mysteries.
I thank you for all the life and joy it has given.
I ask your forgiveness for the harm it has done.
But above all, Lord, I offer it to you as a symbol of all of the labours of men,
indestructible money, which tomorrow will be changed into your eternal life. Amen.