[Jesus] sat down opposite the treasuryI was on vacation recently with some friends who are faithful church-goers. And as we looked toward Sunday and the decision of where to go to Mass, our friend who was playing host talked us through the churches in the area. At one, the pastor appears to spend exorbitantly on himself and creates image problems; at another, the pastor is self-absorbed, lofty, distant, and not very pastoral; at another, the church can barely keep the lights on and sustain its livelihood. Not meaning to rip on priests or dwell on the weaknesses of the communities, we saw the struggles of the local church in these descriptions and opted for the third of the three options.1
and observed how the crowd put money into the treasury.
Many rich people put in large sums.
A poor widow also came
and put in two small coins worth a few cents.
Calling his disciples to himself, he said to them,
“Amen, I say to you,
this poor widow put in more than all the other contributors to the treasury.
For they have all contributed from their surplus wealth,
but she, from her poverty, has contributed all she had, her whole livelihood.”
-Mark 12:41-44
We learned that the parish is largely black, but also encompasses the Vietnamese community; additionally, there’s also a white Catholic crowd. So under one roof, following the guidance of multi-lingual priests, these groups co-mingle in communion.2 As we walked into the fellowship hall - the small church on campus can’t fit everyone for any Sunday celebrations - we saw black people, Vietnamese people, and white people, all at one Mass. The morning’s lector welcomed everyone, and the small but spirited choir opened Mass with their flitting organist humming away. The priest, a white man, opened with the usual prayers from the missal, held by one of the black altar servers. The choir continued throughout Mass, with some stale song selections but not sung without heart. And just before Mass ended, the priest was sure to do what is their semi-regular birthday check, having parishioners with recent birthdays stand up to be serenaded, with embarrassment (of birthday boys and girls) and delight of serenaders swirling in equal parts.
As we left, our friend shared with us that this parish once appealed for a pro-bono plumber to get the bathrooms working again because the parish budget couldn’t afford to hire someone to do it, and that such budget constraints are a regular challenge there. As I listened, I briefly considered the challenges of a small budget, but my mind was focused more on the seemingly easy and comfortable diversity, the pastoral pastor3 who related authentically with his diverse congregation, the fiery lector who was so clear and proud, the altar servers who were so understated and diligent, and the peace of the congregants in the sign of peace. And I’m not saying that money is nothing, but I like the problems that this community had.
On a wider scale, the vitality of our church, the ardor of our faith, the strength of our communities can get fickle and inconsistent. The strength of a parish can be so unpredictable, wavering and fluctuating as priests rotate through, as schools shrink or grow, as neighborhoods rise and fall. The relationships and community within the parish are even less predictable - How will people buy in? What will get people engaged and interested? What gifts are present in parishioners that are yet to be tapped positively for the community? There is no secret sauce.4
Challenges like these are difficult to unpack. The best and strongest solution I’ve found is relationship-building. When people feel personally invited, involved, and engaged, they commit and remain accountable to something and to each other. It’s up to the professional ministers to set the tone and create an environment in which this is the norm. This is an unsatisfying process, takes lot of time and effort, and doesn’t happen through passive means. Flyers, email blasts, Mass announcements, and links to websites don’t achieve this, so it sometimes doesn’t happen at all.5
So when I come across a community like the one I saw recently, I think to myself: these are good problems to have; I like these problems; I could work with those problems.
I am not a fundraiser, and I don’t envy those whose jobs centrally involve fundraising; however, I think it is much easier to work to cover a money gap than to cultivate nuanced, mature, profound spirituality. Both pursuits are necessary and integral to the sustenance of the Church, but where one is a significant, deep-seated, complex problem, the other is "just" a matter of fundraising.
I know in my work in high schools, I have found this to be true. High school campus ministry is often a patchwork sidejob before a position like mine is created or added, so I have come into situations where great potential in young people remains untapped.8 I have found a great hunger in teenagers for an opportunity to be vulnerable and honest, to share and learn from peers, and to discover God’s abiding presence in relationships and community. They are wonderfully responsive when given a chance to see God in this way. I think of myself as an opportunity-creator who makes space, time, and context for teens to have this chance, and they mostly run with it. Devising fees and payment plans and budget formulas to support our retreats and service trips and outreaches then becomes just the simple stepping stone task, and then is merely a good and lesser problem to have.
So a tip of the cap to those parishes, schools, and faith-based organizations that operate with less than glamorous budgets. Even if your pockets aren’t deep, I hope you find spiritual strengths in your communities that show the great things that are happening nonetheless. Ultimately, we must not mistake financial stability for spiritual excellence. If we can stay committed to spiritual prosperity as our priority, then we can make sure that our problems - even when caused by money woes - are good problems and do the good pastoral work together.
1 I have long since gotten over choosing Masses and parishes based on priests, but I am amazed how much this affects not just evangelical Christians but also Catholics. People’s preference for style of homily, tone of voice, having a priest who is not ESL, and more seem to really have an impact on people’s church-going habits, at least in my experience.↩
2 Having only belonged to predominantly white churches, I lack significant first-hand knowledge. However, in my experience in different cities around the US, it seems some ethnically specific communities and alcoves have insular communities, especially faith-wise, that don’t intermix, so for instance, having Vietnamese parishioners attend one and only one Mass while black parishioners attend another. This parish, however, had a healthy mix of all joined together at a Sunday Mass. I was delighted and impressed.↩
3 I’ve worked with many great priests, but I’ve also come across some pastors who struggle with definitional characteristics. It’s funny to think that sometimes it’s deeply challenging for these guys.↩
4 If I were to make a secret sauce, it’d combine many of my favorite spicy delights - sriracha, tabasco, the spicy paste from Pei Wei, ...↩
5 If there’s one thing I’ve learned in professional ministry, it’s that passive blasts don’t move the needle. If you’re working with a college campus of thousands or a huge parish of hundreds of families, it might get a few people. But big, vital, dynamic, thriving events do not happen without profound, widespread personal invitation.↩
6 This story is in Mark 12:41:44 as well as Luke 21:1-4.↩
7 Note from Jenny K: The woman understands that true relationship is kenotic. We must empty ourselves in order to be filled.↩
8 Cheers to the teachers who are charged with being campus ministers as a side-thing. How you direct retreats and coordinate liturgy while teaching full loads is a mystery. That’s a horrible crime, and I will continue advocating for schools to commit to full-time campus ministers. It makes a difference, people.
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