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Wealth Management
Sermon for November 14, 2010
Rev. Wendy McNiven
READING:
Some of you have heard me speak before about the partner church program between
North American and Transylvanian Unitarian churches. Gretchen Thomas has written a
book of stories about it, called “Walking In Others’ Shoes”. The reading I will share is
from that book.
When American minister Gretchen Thomas and Transylvanian minister József Kázsoni
were walking in downtown Berkeley, she writes,
József gave coins to every panhandler we passed. He found their plight
confronting and upsetting. He asked me exactly where they were going to sleep
that night, something I hadn’t seriously asked myself. When he engaged in
conversations with the panhandlers …, he was curious, sincere, and
compassionate. … At the time … Unitarian ministers’ families [in Transylvania]
survived on a combination of barter and whatever small contributions their often
impoverished congregation members could manage to pledge, season by
season. So it amazed me that József parted with any of his precious coins. But
he took for granted that we would give them away. He said, “When you are
desperate, even a little can makea big difference, and I am better off than they
are. I need to understand everything I can about the poor in the United States,
so my villagers will not find themselves walking these poverty-stricken roads as
Romania plunges into capitalism.”1
To order a copy of this book, write to: <[email protected]>
Gretchen Thomas, “Walking in Others’ Shoes: Stories from the Early Years of the
Partner Church Movement”, Roots & Wings Press, p. 118ff – used with permission.
To order a copy of this book, write to: <[email protected]>
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SERMON:
“Spare change, ma’am?”
Why are they asking ME? I hate it when that happens! It means I didn’t walk quickly
enough; or I made eye contact; or I just look like a soft touch. Anyway, if I stop to dig in
my purse for change, maybe they’ll mug me and take all my paper money, too.
The panhandler dilemma - this is a situation that catches me off guard more often than I
would like. Note that I say “off guard”. Apparently I need to “guard” myself against
being touched by anyone who is asking me for money. I am fearful of being tricked,
conned, touched up for cash under false pretenses. How do I know who these people
are? How do I know they’re legitimately poor? (whatever that means) Why don’t they
just get a job, like the rest of us? They probably want to use the money for cigarettes,
or worse. They probably just want it to do something frivolous with.
And if I don’t give them anything, it makes me either very savvy, or stingy and uncaring,
and I DON’T KNOW WHICH. I hate that!

Here’s what I think when I’m not taken off-guard.
Nobody should have to go hungry in this rich country
o I know of a man (a friend of a friend) who sometimes steals what he needs to feed
his family, and jiggers pay telephones to get change out of them. He is a nice man, but
just can’t make ends meet for his children.
o It is partly because of a social system and a cultural attitude that does not provide
“enough” for families who need it. It is partly because of economic times, and it’s hard
to get a job. It’s partly because lots of jobs have been shipped overseas to India or the
Philippines – I guess it’s one way to help developing countries … But - This should not
happen! There should be enough for him and his family, without his having to resort to
desperate measures.
o It should not be the case that people in Kamloops or Kelowna cannot afford school
supplies, such that the rest of us are called upon to donate them. How does this
happen, in a wealthy province?

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Some of us, even when we are not “caught off guard,” object to giving handouts or
welfare to poor people. We say they have self-defeating behaviour, they feed their own
addictions, they’re fat and lazy, whatever. Why should such people feel entitled to be
taken care of?
If the question is turned around, it asks: why should you or I feel entitled to whatever we
have? Largely, the social milieu in which we live is full of “entitlement,” and so of course
they feel it just as much as the rest of us do. I feel entitled to medical care, to have the
money and comfort and shelter that I have, to have choices – to go to university or
travel where I wish, to eat ice cream and have a glass of wine now and then. It’s not just
because I have earned these by some good behaviour or other – it’s largely a matter of
good fortune.
“They” probably are making some foolish choices, given their resources. I also make
foolish economic choices at times, but I am lucky enough to have a financial cushion.
And besides - what do I know of their lives? I’ve never been there!
It is not an easy dilemma. My husband and I have agreed to disagree on whether it is
appropriate to give money to people on the street. He believes that it is best to give
money to organizations that are working to make the need for begging obsolete, or to
help people in other ways, such as the United Way, or the Gospel Mission, or the Food
Bank. But he “knows” that many of the people asking for handouts are not really
helping themselves, and in fact might be making really stupid choices in their lives,
continuing to use the spare change for drink or drugs or smokes, etc.
I struggle more than he does. I am less clear on what the appropriate course of action
is. For me, there is my own guilt about having more than they have, and not really
wanting to share, and not knowing whether to trust “them” as being really in need, and
not wanting to be scammed, as I have been occasionally. Suspicious. But on the other
hand, when I have helped out at the local shelter for people without a place to sleep Inn
from the Cold, I have become less afraid and more compassionate – I have begun to
see the guests as “People” rather than as “them”. It helps. It helps me to be more
clear in my own mind about what to do.
Deep down, I want to be a generous person.

Here’s what else I think when I’m not caught off-guard.
o It should not be the case that some of our classrooms have too many children in
them, that classes regularly hold as many as 30 children, including perhaps 5 who have
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some kind of special learning needs. It should not be the case that one special needs
class has as many as 16 students in it, or that there is not enough money for learning
assistants or care aides, even though safety considerations and personnel contracts call
for more staffing.
o It should not be the case that Veterans of overseas wars, Canadian military
personnel returning from service, have been / are getting short shrift with respect to
helping them re-enter civilian life again. They may require counselling for posttraumatic stress disorder, or job re-training, or dental and medical care for themselves
and their families, or physical rehabilitation. And they aren’t getting it in a timely
manner; sometimes not at all. It is to our shame as a country that this has been
allowed to happen. At least it is now receiving some publicity. The recent resignation of
the department of veterans’ affairs ombudsman is an example of appropriate attention
being paid, though too late, as he exposes the reality of long and sometimes literally
endless waits for claims to be processed by veterans. Mothers, don’t let your children
grow up to be soldiers.
But we can’t afford to provide all these benefits for people.
Why?
Income taxes have just been cut again, by Premier Campbell, in a desperate attempt to
regain some of his lost popularity. This on top of tax cuts from previous administrations,
and from the federal government. Of course we all enjoy the idea of paying less taxes.
But its consequences are disastrous! I’m thinking we should declare a tax revolt to
counteract the anti-HST tax revolt, and demand to pay higher taxes. Where else is the
money for schools, and special ed needs, and hungry or unemployed people, or
veterans of combat, going to come from?
On a broad scale, it is named well by the US Catholic Bishops’ letter of 24 years ago:
“Basic justice … calls for the establishment of a floor of material well-being on
which all can stand. This is a duty of the whole of society, and it creates
particular obligations for those with greater resources. This duty calls into
question extreme inequalities of income and consumption when so many lack
basic necessities. … [We] challenge economic arrangements that leave large
numbers of people impoverished. Further, [we see] extreme inequality as a
threat to the solidarity of the human community, for great disparities lead to deep
social divisions and conflict.”2
It has to be about a sense of COMMUNITY.
UU World Summer 2010, p.29, via R. Gilbert, via J. Buehrens
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Community means understanding and acting on the idea that until all are free, none of
us is free. It means creating a place where all are welcome at the table, and all are
safely sheltered, clothed and cared about.
So many people I meet, if asked why they want to be part of a church, say that “search
for community” is a big part of it. The way our society is now, “community” is not our
dominant social organizing feature. There are many cultural forces in North America
that push “community” to the back row. The mall is not a community, save-on foods is
not, likely your job is not a community. The farmer’s market might be. Churches are
almost the last example of intergenerational community. And yet, people crave
community; they know they’re missing something; they want to feel connected.
If you asked people in a Transylvanian village why they belong to a church, the word
“community” would not even enter their minds – because their villages are already
serving that function, and besides, everyone belongs to the village church. If you live in
the village of Csehétfalva or Homoródszentmárton, you are part of a community. The
cow herd is a communal herd, with one or two cows belonging to each household.
There are four motor vehicles in the whole village. If someone gets sick or injured,
everyone pitches in. If there is a dispute, lots of people are affected. But there’s no
question of “quitting” because it’s not fun any more. It’s a community. Communal
welfare is just part of life. Not that it’s ideal – but one thing Rev. Kázsoni said was that
he wanted to make sure when Romania moved into capitalism was that it didn’t go to
our extreme.
But we are steeped in Individualism. Even in our churches. Community is about
knowing that we are all connected. It means behaving as if the whole unit is as
important as the individuals in it.
And for Community to be strong, we have to pay our taxes – to bolster the health of the
common good. This is true of our church as well, and you will be receiving a request for
your pledge sometime this week. Our church pledge is a voluntary tax that we offer to
the common good of this community.
I have a friend who says that, some days, the individualism of Unitarianism really
bothers her. As a 3rd generation Unitarian, if she wasn’t tied to the history, the tradition,
and the whole philosophical foundation of Unitarianism, she might not even attend her
church. People want what they want, and they don’t always behave in a way that gives
priority to the well-being of the “whole.” They get mad at each other, and then they quit,
or go off in a huff. As Gretchen Thomas put it, we are “a collection of unique
individuals, loosely bound together by [our] love of protesting, singing, questioning,
learning, and committing to our children. That is a world away from József’s seeing his
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Homoródszentmárton congregation as one important link in a solidly united church body
[italics added].” (Thomas p. 120)
We could be about creating a culture of generosity – such as how those two brothers in
the story lived. Always trying to make sure that everyone has what they need.
And what would that look like, and how would we get there?
Well, first, we would have to deal with our most guarded values. Back to those pesky
panhandlers and how to respond.
Gretchen Thomas reflected on how her walk with József Kázsoni had affected her. She
tells of interactions with a particular woman who used to panhandle in front of her bank.
Before, she used routinely to walk past the woman begging, acknowledging her
occasionally with a nod, but leaving hastily with her cash and her guilt, trying not to feel
too much. One day, she stopped, talked, and listened. It turned out that the two
women actually had a lot in common – age, religious ideas, families. In the end, the
result was a dignified exchange between two people who had actually encountered one
another.
For our own spiritual health, what is the best thing to do with our wealth?
Words of Carter Heyward:
We cannot serve two masters, God and mammon (sometimes translated “money”).
God, she otherwise calls the “wellspring of all that is worthwhile”; mammon is “our
upward mobility”.
“Our mammon is what we work hard to get, what we possess, the things in life
that make us feel important – nice clothes, good jobs, ordination, some status in
the pecking order, the kinds of things we want, and want more of. … and
mammon is also the near impossibility of not getting stuck there … precisely
because we consider ourselves so powerless and unlovable without it. (italics
added)… So deep is our neediness – for security, for a sense of self-esteem, for
a feeling that we matter.” 3
For my own health, I don’t want to get stuck worrying about money, in all the ways that I
can let it distract me (and there are many.)
When does money have too much power in my life? It has power over me when I
become tight-fisted rather than generous, when I decide to work overtime or take on
Carter Heyward: from “Our Passion for Justice” p. 133f
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extra jobs, to the detriment of my relationships with people dear to me, when I try to
control the spending habits of everyone in the family out of my own fear, when I can’t
enjoy a symphony concert or a play because of how much money I spent on the ticket.
Money has too much power when I let its presence or absence dictate how happy I can
be, and how Present I can be, how available to living in the moment.
It has too much of the wrong kind of power when I have to think twice about giving
money to someone on the street, or to the food bank, or to USC. When I have to wait
and see how much is left over, rather than deciding to give anyway, up front. “Give
what’s right , not what’s left.”
On the other hand, has a good kind of power when I can use it to further things that
mean a great deal to me. When I can pay for my children’s education or music lessons.
When I can contribute to the Council of Canadians or the Food Bank. When I can buy a
gift for someone I love. When I can give to my church community, when I can willingly
pay my taxes.
Rev. Dr. Peter S. Raible – “I give to overcome my own narcissism.”
For me, being generous makes a statement that I am someone who has something to
give – I am not someone who has received little from life and has nothing to give back.
Generosity reminds me that I am a person who has received abundantly from life. Part
of what gives my life meaning is the connections I have made, and I want to nurture
those connections and that world.
Giving is a way of connecting with what truly matters in our lives.
“If we understand that everyone is brother and sister to us, then we will always want to
pour some of our grain into the granary of the world. And when we do – and where we
do – that is a holy place.” 4
That is the community and culture of generosity of which I want to be a part.
May it be so.
“Everyday Spiritual Practice”, ed. Scott Alexander,“Giving”, Tony Larsen, p. 227