Saying Please and Thank You
Philippians 4: 1-9; Matthew 22: 1- 14
October 10, 1999
This past weekend we had two of our grandchildren with us. I’ve been interested to watch (as only a grandparent can) the way their parents are teaching them manners. Griffin, our two-and-a-half-year-old, is at the stage when he wants something he lets you know in no uncertain terms. Most often he uses the imperative tense. “Milk,” he announces. “Toy,” he commands. And then his mother, in a vain attempt, will correct him. “Griffin, say please,” which is a hard lesson for a two-and-a-half-year-old to understand. Then his father will follow up, saying, “Griffin, now say thank you.”
As I watched all of this, I speculated whether, in the interest of good manners, we weren’t making little hypocrites of our children.
The thought of gratitude never seems to enter the head of a two-and-a-half-year-old. After a while, I came to the conclusion that it is better to act as if you were grateful, and possibly the feeling will come later. As the wisdom from Alcoholics Anonymous puts it, “If you can’t make it, fake it.”
Today is Stewardship Sunday. It’s a day I often dread. We start our Every Member Canvass. It’s a day many people think of withdrawing money from their pockets, but this isn’t so. It’s an important day, not because we need everybody’s help in forming a budget, or paying my salary, or starting new programs. No, it’s important for this is where we focus on “please” and “thank you.”
Henri Nouwen, the recently deceased Dutch spiritual teacher, once wrote, “We human beings are born with our fists clenched tightly and possessively. The journey to maturity is the pilgrimage of opening up our hands; moving from clenched hands that can accept and receive, and give,” journeying from being able to say please instead of gimme. Thank you, instead of feeling that we deserve what we have been given.
One of the pluses of being ordained is that you are able to be with people during key moments; moments of crises, moments of tragedy, moments of great joy. One thing I’ve observed is that people usually turn to God at these moments. That’s not all bad. At least it’s a recognition that God is in the picture. The tragedy is that at moments like this, we’re often like a two-year-old. We’re quick to say, “God do. God act. God perform,” but we’re slow to say please and thank you in any tangible way. Most of the time, we act like we’re entitled to anything good that befalls us, and it’s unjust if anything occurs that is bad. I often wonder where this sense of entitlement comes from, when, if the truth be known, most of the time we have so tenuous a relationship with the Almighty.
Today is Stewardship Sunday. The day in the church year when the clergy stand in pulpits trying vainly to convince congregations that they are stewards and not just consumers. Stewards, that’s what preachers call people when they want you to give money. But stewardship means more than that. A steward is a manager, and stewardship is really about the way we manage our life, our work, and our resources. Parishioners often think Stewardship Sunday is about the 5% or 10% of their income that they are asked to give back to God. I’m frankly more interested in the other 90% or 95%. The important thing to know about stewards or managers is that they are not owners. Managers are accountable to the owner. Stewards are tenants, and God is the proprietor. For those of you who wrestle with the Bible and tithing, let me just say that the biblical tithe was only the rent one paid to God for the use of God’s world. If one wanted to give to charity, that was over and above the rent. My concern on
Stewardship Sunday is – How do you spend the portion of your income that you don’t give back to God? It’s the 90% or 95%, or whatever you have left over after you have given to God, that shapes your very soul.
Henri Nouwen (again) . He once wrote, “The goal of the human journey of ours is to be able at the end not to say please, I want more. But at the end to say thank you. I am grateful for what I have received.” it crosses my mind, as I look out at all of you, which
of these two words would sum up your life? Let me begin to meddle and stop preaching, and ask you a question. If this were your last day on earth, which would you say, “Please give me more, or thank you for what has been given” It’s difficult in the consumer age not to always want a little more than we have, a little more time, a little more money, a little more of the good things in life.
But, this is Stewardship Sunday at St. Philip’s, and a better name of the day is Sanity Sunday It’s our annual opportunity to realign our priorities. To ask the question of what matters most to us, and to check the status of our souls. It’s an important Sunday, not because of what it will do for our parish, but for what it will do for us personally.
Our Gospel contains the parable of the Wedding Feast. It’s a strange story. For me, it’s unsettling. Just when I think I understand the Bible, a parable like this one gets slipped in.
I like the way it begins – with a party. Who doesn’t love a party? Apparently, there are some that don’t, for there were a lot of excuses. And so God sends the invitation out to more than the original guest list. For this, we can cheer. God’s kingdom, God’s party, is inclusive. It’s open to all sorts and conditions; even to you and me.
Yet apparently, more than just showing up for the party is required. The story is not yet over. It goes on to tell of one of the guests who doesn’t have a wedding robe. I’ve sometimes questioned where this one person, just having been dragged in off the street, can get a tux; and why on earth would the host, presumably God, care about this poor guy’s improper dress? I don’t know the answer. I often choose a different lesson when it doesn’t make sense, but somehow on this Stewardship Sunday, I’ve got to stay with what the church has provided. The only thing I can learn from the story is that there are consequences to our decisions. The parable seems to say we are free to run our lives as we wish, but there are consequences to what we do. The consequences can be severe. I sometimes feel in our attempt to make the Christian faith inviting, we often soft-peddle the consequences. The call once given may not come again. The road not taken may make all the difference. The actions we take now will affect our future.
So, if nothing else, our Gospel reminds us that serious matters are under discussion here today. We are here, standing or sitting before the living God. Whether we say yes or say no may make all the difference. At every moment, we are defining ourselves.
I recently heard of a man named Jan Karski. He is a Polish gentleman who came to the U.S. as a young man in 1944 to tell about the Holocaust. After trying to alert us in ’44 he unsuccessfully dropped out of sight. Fifty years later, he left his obscurity and went public on this painful subject. When the reporters asked why he finally decided to tell his story, this is what he said. “I did it because I believe there will be a last judgment, and God will say to me, ‘Karski, I gave you a soul. Your body is gone, but your soul is mine. I gave it to you. What have you done with your soul?’ And I will have to answer him.”
Good people, your soul is like a wedding garment. It’s your soul that you’ll be taking to the party. Your soul and nothing else is what you will wear into the kingdom. Someone can’t just reach into a closet and find you a better one. Your actions have consequences. Your decisions matter. They color your soul.
Today is Stewardship Sunday. It’s a day we focus on our responses to life. It’s a day that speaks to our souls.
Amen