The love of money is the root of all evil, right? Except, we need money to accomplish good in the world. I’ve been involved in three churches in my life, all different sizes, demographics, and faiths. None of them ever have enough people, enough time, or enough money to complete all their ambitious plans. Recently, during a vestry discussion about church finances, my priest raised the question: Shouldn’t we treat the church a little more as a business? Shouldn’t we have high expectations for our parishioners, in terms of gifts of resources and time? Shouldn’t we hold people accountable when they don’t follow through on pledges and commitments? Don’t high expectations lead to church growth? I have to admit, I got my back up a little bit during this vigorous conversation, and my priest invited me to write about it. I wonder, must my church conduct itself as a business, in order to properly care for our resources? We need money to continue, to pay for the building, the lights, the priest, and our ministries. Why are we afraid to talk about it?
As a disclaimer, I should say that although I ran my own business for a number of years, I’m about the worst person to answer this question. I was a terrible business person; I spent more than I had, I took risks at the wrong times, acted cautiously at the wrong times, I worked too hard, rather than too smart. As much as I loved the work, I failed in the end. My first question while considering serving on the vestry was, “Do I have to calculate any of the finances?” Thank goodness that we have accountants on the vestry, so I’m off the hook in that department. When people start talking about income and expenses, my eyes cloud over a little bit. So, when I speak about business practices, I may be wrong. I have only my personal experience to guide me, and it is limited.
A few quick google searches yield few results about “church as a business”--probably because no one wants to treat the church like a business. I learned a little but came up with more questions. After all, what is our product? The free, catholic grace of God? You can’t market it, price it, box it up, and ship it out. It is freely available to anyone who notices it. Are we selling spiritual succor, happiness, and peace? Then we’d better quit preaching about sacrifice and giving up our life in order to find it. We’d better skip over the crucifixion and get happy already. No one wants gloom and doom when their life is hard enough. Are we a spiritual gym, training Christian warriors to build the kingdom? Then we need stiff registration fees and demanding expectations for prayer, fasting, and theology. We’d better whip those parishioners into shape, and, while we’re at it, let’s only pick the ones who are already smart, strong, friendly, wealthy, and attractive. That’s our target market; how to we get to those people? Oh, and they have to be young. Where do the millennials hang out? We need millennials, by God! My short research project did not yield a product that the church for the church to sell. OK, so without a product, can you have a business?
Even if the church is not a business, we still need money to help those in need and to spread the good news of the gospel. It’s difficult to talk about money, in personal and professional situations, and exceptionally difficult to discuss church money. We are supposed to be the kingdom of God come to life, serving the community, feeding the poor, spreading the gospel, AND keeping a beautiful building, an intelligent and loving minister, and excellent, inspiring liturgy. We are supposed to give out of the abundant grace of God while we are worried about keeping our mortgages paid and our doors open (both at home and at church). Don’t you dare start talking about money--because a church might deal in money, but it is definitely NOT a business. I am usually the first one to pipe up with that line during conversations. Once again, though, I think there's something more than my kneejerk reaction allows.
We are Christians, Episcopalians for that matter, so we should be practiced in paradoxes. We can hold both Christ’s incarnational nature and his divinity in our minds. We can celebrate the mystery of the Eucharist in the bread and the wine that is also body and blood of Christ. We can contemplate the beautiful love of the incomprehensible Trinity. Still, we have difficulty balancing a church that is the Kingdom of God and requires a positive bank balance. It is the church’s practice to find that balance.
As a good Episcopalian, I don’t have the answer, but I do have a story--about practice. There was once a Zen archery master who moved to the US from Japan to develop a school. For years and years he taught Americans the principles of Zen archery, that the mindful pursuit of form and technique without attachment to results develops into mastery. He built a successful school and a reporter came to interview him. The reporter asked the master, “How is your school going?” The master replied, “It’s terrible! These Americans cannot understand practice. They cannot understand that they should not aim for the target, but that they should practice until the arrow finds its home. Americans just do not get it.” The reporter asked, “So what are you going to do? Will you abandon the school for your native Japan?” The old master said, “No, THIS is my practice. Teaching Americans something they may never understand IS my practice.”
I don’t have the answer, only a vision of a church that acts as a responsible steward for its resources while giving to the congregation, the community, and the larger world in money, time, and effort. I only have a vision of a church that turns our secular monetary gifts into the sacred kingdom of God. I only have a vision of a church that practices both responsible stewardship and gives from abundance, with faith and fidelity, without attachment to the results, until the arrow finds its way home to the target.
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