Theres an old joke about a priest on a passenger plane. Unfortunately, the aircraft soon finds itself in treacherous turbulence. Many fear for their lives.
Naturally, the man sitting next to the priest urges him desperately: 'Quick, do something religious!'
So the priest goes up and down the aisles taking a collection.
Well, isn't that what ministers do? Perhaps to many that is the perception. A cringe-inducing church experience I had last week seemed to vindicate such a view.
The context was a wedding: a countryside church full of guests who'd probably not been to church in years. In a short address the vicar boasted proudly of his sanctuary's long history, adding that he hoped it might long continue in its work.
'Well, you know where this is going don't you?' he jested awkwardly. 'We're going to take a collection...' Perhaps giving people a number to aim for, he noted that the church was fixing its broken roof at the cost of £75,000.
As I died inside, the assembled stumbled their way through the next hymn and the collection plate was rushed around. There was no sermon that day – just a stranger's sales pitch.
Money, getting it and giving it away, is a tricky old thing. It's deeply personal, tied up with our deepest insecurities in uncertain times. And of course in Britain, discussing finances is not the done thing. Scripture has much to say about money, so it certainly shouldn't be avoided, but when 'giving' has become a 'collection' – a manipulative kind of church tax – then haven't we gone quite wrong?
And perhaps the name is the biggest problem. 'The collection' really is suggestive of a miserly taxman coming round to take what's due. I'm sure that was never how it was intended, but I've found the designation of 'offering' to be far better. Yes, it might all feel like absurd Christianese, but there is a difference. Giving should be seen as a call or an opportunity, an expression of happy hearts and not the fruit of guilt, or the fear what others are thinking.
One church I attended was often keen to express that the 'offering' was 'a part of our worship', and that no one should feel compelled to give. It should come as joyful generosity, not a begrudging donation. That's a much healthier vision, and one rooted in the New Testament. God calls his followers to worship him with all their lives, and that of course includes finances, just as it also includes time, gifts and relationships. That's actually more challenging, though also more inspiring. God wants everything, not just the weekly tip.
There is of course an all-too-human heart to this issue. I understand the motives of the minister who just wants to keep his church running and get that roof fixed. I'm sure he's not hoping to line his pockets with gold, he just wants a little help. I also understand people's reluctance to give in uncertain times. We might not feel like we can afford to.
But at the end of the day it comes down to trust. Do we trust God? Could you trust him that if you're prepared to give more, he will actually meet your needs? It sounds risky, but it's the radical dependence that Jesus pointed to in the Sermon on the Mount. It's not of course to be confused with the poison of the prosperity gospel, which promises great wealth the more you give your pastor.
The minister needs to trust that God will sustain his church without him having to fleece visitors or make a winning pitch. Such radical trust could bring him great peace – and his visitors won't just see a salesman who only loves the masses for their wallets.
In our daily lives, we could all learn to give more, and want less, hard though it is. When we do, we'll probably discover the ancient truth that it is 'better to give than to receive' (Acts 20:35).
John Wesley once said that, 'The last part of a man to be converted is his wallet'. If we're honest, in the way we live our lives, we love our money. It certainly is nice to have – and everyone's got to pay the bills. But if saving it dominates your life choices, then do you have the money, or does the money have you?
And Jesus did say that kind of love was the root of all evil, so there's a gentle incentive to try and let it go.
Paul put it pretty well: 'Each of you should give what you have decided in your heart to give, not reluctantly or under compulsion, for God loves a cheerful giver. And God is able to bless you abundantly, so that in all things at all times, having all that you need, you will abound in every good work'(2 Cor 9:7-8).
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