I was driving out in the country the other day, and I passed
by a big sign in someone’s yard, which read “Reward for Information about
Stolen Property.” It was a large, well-manicured lawn with a big house set well
back from the road. Although I was driving pretty quickly, I saw enough to
realize that there was a collection of antique memorabilia and signs on and
around a building near the house. I allowed myself to imagine the owners and
their frustration when items they valued—not just for their monetary worth—were
taken from them. The sign was an odd cry for help and an expression of anger
and hurt.
In the gospel lesson for today (Matthew 10:34-42), Jesus
puts a big reward sign in the front yard of faith: “Whoever welcomes a prophet
in the name of a prophet will receive a prophet's reward; and whoever welcomes
a righteous person in the name of a righteous person will receive the reward of
the righteous; and whoever gives even a cup of cold water to one of these
little ones in the name of a disciple-truly I tell you, none of these will lose
their reward." Actually, I’d like to see that sign—“Reward for being
nice”—in someone’s yard, but I don’t really like reading it in the gospel.
I experience an icky feeling when someone starts talking
about the product of our faith in terms of our “heavenly reward.” I’m already
over-motivated by money. I don’t need Jesus waving a fat stack of bills in my
face. In fact, I’d rather him do the opposite. I’d rather him smile from the
shadows—just visible to me.
Earlier this week, I was visiting a parish for a stewardship
consultation, and I enjoyed a back-and-forth with a woman in the congregation
about the tithe. We sparred for a while, and I think our conversation helped
the whole group get a better sense of why God asks us to give him the first 10%
of our resources. But, after the session was over, she and I finished our
conversation as we turned to the issue of how we offer to God not only our
money but also our time and talent. “Sure!” I said, “Give to God 10% of your
time, too.” The response I got surprised me a little bit: “I give way more than
10% of my time!” “That’s great!” I responded. “Keep it up! We’ll give you a pat
on the back and a shiny gold star.” I was joking—perhaps even teasing a little
bit—but the joke was lost on my audience.
“We don’t want that,” she protested. “We don’t do it for a
gold star or a pat on the back. We do it because we love it. Those of us who
give our lives to something don’t do it for a reward.” She’s absolutely right,
and I told her so. We don’t give our hearts to God in order to receive a reward.
The giving itself is the reward we treasure.
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