IN LITTLE WAYS
We usually hear the word “stewardship” in terms of our responsibilities to our parish. Our pastors urge us to share our time, talents and treasure with our Christian family. They ask us to prayerfully consider increasing our sacrificial giving. It’s a worthwhile appeal, but it’s only the beginning of true stewardship.
Stewards own nothing. They manage someone else’s assets. A housekeeper, for example, is steward of the food and furnishings in someone else’s mansion. Bankers are stewards of the funds entrusted them by depositors. Five trustees serve as stewards of the estate that supports Kamehameha Schools.
The Bible and our daily newspaper warn that stewards sometimes forget their role. The housekeeper takes a few steaks home each week. The banker uses our funds for his investments. Trustees abuse their position to benefit their family or friends. These are crimes, because the wealth is not theirs. They’re just supposed to manage it in accordance with the wishes of the real owners.
So who owns our time, talent and treasure? Who created our ability to sing, throw a baseball or solve equations? How much of our current financial situation is really our own achievement and how much is due to the gift of family, education and community? Which one of us can manufacture a single hour?
If we’re honest, we know that it’s all God. We’re attractive, smart or successful because God gave us the gifts and the opportunities. That’s why the church uses the word “steward” in relation to these gifts. They were never intended solely for our own benefit. God intends us to pass much of what we receive on to others.
In Matthew 25:14-30, Jesus tells us to increase the value of our talents because one day we will have to pay the owner back with interest. Of course, we will use some of our income to support ourselves and our family. If that’s all we do, however, we will be like the servant who buried his talent in the ground, and we all remember what happened to him.
Probably no Christian understood this principle better than St. Francis. G.K. Chesterton compares Francis’ spiritual conversion to tumbling. The familiar world looks remarkably different when you’re standing on your head. Francis, says Chesterton, discovered that what we think of as reality is actually upside down. All the mountains and buildings that seem so firmly planted are really suspended in space, held there only by God’s grace. Likewise, everything you and I have completely depends on the Lord’s goodness.
So, the question isn’t how much of our money we should give God. It’s how much we should keep. It’s not how long we should pray but how much time we can devote to personal pleasure.
C.S. Lewis noted that humans are particularly deluded about time. Every moment is a gift. If God appeared in person and demanded a day’s service, we’d eagerly do any task no matter how difficult or unpleasant. If God gave us just 30 minutes off, we’d be profoundly grateful. Yet most of us feel very noble about giving God one hour’s worship from the 168 hours he gives us each week.
St. Francis called himself God’s “jongleur” or acrobat. Few of us will achieve Francis’ level of sanctity, but we all might benefit from some spiritual gymnastics. From time to time, we could sit and think about what we consider “ours” — the house, the bank account, the community respect. Then we could ask just who is ultimately responsible for these accomplishments and circumstances. Doing this exercise regularly would take us a long way toward understanding the full meaning of stewardship.
Kathleen welcomes comments. Send them to Kathleen Choi, 1706 Waianuenue Ave., Hilo 96720, or email: kathchoi@hawaii.rr.com.
