The Orthodox Heretic breaks his silence after a few weeks. No good reason, I am just busy dissertating and traveling. Hence the following very brief post…
I have been trying to articulate some of the difficulties we may encounter when we try to convince ourselves that we are not lovers of money. I’ve tried to state that while there will always be ways to assure ourselves that we are not guilty of money-loving, there are also always reasons to think that we are. How then, can we guarantee that we are innocent?
It strikes me as impossible to love money if you are excited about giving it away. I’m not just talking about tithing. Tithing is wonderful, but it is automatic. You can even have automatic deductions taken out of your account every month by your favorite charitable organization. I’m talking about something beyond a tithe – extra money every month that is set aside for unexpected things – causes and needs that excite you. If you genuinely give, as Paul said, hilariously, then it must be that you don’t love money.
Showing posts with label Wealth and Morality. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Wealth and Morality. Show all posts
6.11.2009
5.19.2009
"I Don't Love Money...Right?" Part II
Last week I suggested that it is not wise simply to shrug off the verses about money-loving. This week I want to try to describe my motivation for taking up this issue. The elephant in the room for Western Christians is how much freaking money we have. The comfort and luxuries that middle-class Americans enjoy, compared with, say, people in the third world today or Christians of the past is beyond staggering. It is this dramatic economic inequality that should make honest Christians ask ourselves whether those passages about money-loving are about us. Now, as I argued last week, you cannot simply equate having money with loving money. But it sure is bizarre that my Christian brother in the third world makes $1 per day while I make a million times that much! (Alright, my math may be a little off, but my point remains).
This kind of comparison may give you what I call ‘Schindler disease.’ Oscar Schindler, as the story goes, was an incredibly wealthy man who saved 1,100 Jewish lives during the Holocaust by employing them at his factory, even though he did not actually need them as workers. He basically used his fortune to save their lives. It seems like he was a generous hero, but in this clip, he realizes that there was even more he could have done (even if you have seen this movie before, I recommend watching this scene again).
Our situation is not somewhat similar to Oscar Schindler’s. It is the exact same. We find ourselves with plenty that we do not need, and we could trade that stuff to either change or save the lives of another. But if we follow the Oscar Schindler problem down the rabbit hole, we will all have to take a vow of poverty, for if we have any money or possessions at all, then there is by definition more we can do for the poor. But alas, we would be part of the poor in that case, dependent on handouts and calling our local church for rent money!
Oscar Schindler and his interlocutor articulate this frustrating state of affairs well in that scene:
Oscar: I could have done more….
Interlocutor: But you did so much…
…and this conversation could go one forever, because both men stated a truth. Yes, Schindler could have done more, and yes, he did so much. Schindler never solves his own problem. He drives away in his car tortured by guilt and sadness. In that moment he must have felt like a true money-lover, the kind that Jesus denounces in the harshest terms. This, despite the fact that he had just done one of the kindest acts in human history!
How can we heal ourselves of Schindler disease, even though Oscar Schindler himself could not? Should we just go through life feeling guilty every time we swipe the credit card? One very effective method, practiced by most Christians today, is to look at the person driving the luxury car and say “Thank you, God, that I am not like that!” But is there a way that is not hypocritical?
This kind of comparison may give you what I call ‘Schindler disease.’ Oscar Schindler, as the story goes, was an incredibly wealthy man who saved 1,100 Jewish lives during the Holocaust by employing them at his factory, even though he did not actually need them as workers. He basically used his fortune to save their lives. It seems like he was a generous hero, but in this clip, he realizes that there was even more he could have done (even if you have seen this movie before, I recommend watching this scene again).
Our situation is not somewhat similar to Oscar Schindler’s. It is the exact same. We find ourselves with plenty that we do not need, and we could trade that stuff to either change or save the lives of another. But if we follow the Oscar Schindler problem down the rabbit hole, we will all have to take a vow of poverty, for if we have any money or possessions at all, then there is by definition more we can do for the poor. But alas, we would be part of the poor in that case, dependent on handouts and calling our local church for rent money!
Oscar Schindler and his interlocutor articulate this frustrating state of affairs well in that scene:
Oscar: I could have done more….
Interlocutor: But you did so much…
…and this conversation could go one forever, because both men stated a truth. Yes, Schindler could have done more, and yes, he did so much. Schindler never solves his own problem. He drives away in his car tortured by guilt and sadness. In that moment he must have felt like a true money-lover, the kind that Jesus denounces in the harshest terms. This, despite the fact that he had just done one of the kindest acts in human history!
How can we heal ourselves of Schindler disease, even though Oscar Schindler himself could not? Should we just go through life feeling guilty every time we swipe the credit card? One very effective method, practiced by most Christians today, is to look at the person driving the luxury car and say “Thank you, God, that I am not like that!” But is there a way that is not hypocritical?
5.10.2009
"I Don't Love Money...Right?" Part 1
The next blogs will be about the interpretation of two statements, one from Jesus and one from Paul, which I take to be conveying the same general idea:
“No one can serve two masters, for either he will hate the one and love the other, or he will be devoted to the one and despise the other. You cannot serve God and money.” Matt. 6:24
“For the love of money is a root of all kinds of evils…” I Tim 6:10
I’m wondering what it means to love money, and how I can be assured that I do not. It’s easy to quickly dismiss the possibility that this verse applies to me or to you, because we might say: “Well, I’m not as rich as some in our society.” This line of reasoning fails immediately for three reasons. First, I and everyone reading this blog are in fact some of the richest people in the world. And second, there are enough Scriptural counterexamples to show that merely having money is not the same as loving it. David, for instance, was filthy rich, as were most of the patriarchs. And we can also turn that around - it’s easy to imagine a person in poverty who loves money and is willing to lie and kill to get it, but simply doesn’t have it yet. So finding a few people in America who have more money than we do is perfectly irrelevant to the question, “Do I love money?”
So it's clear that having money does not equal loving money. But what could those passages mean then? Surprisingly, it’s difficult to come up with clear examples of money-loving. For instance, spending a lot on a home could be justified as an investment, as could sending your kids to an expensive college, or buying the organic milk for twice as much as regular milk. From the perspective of some, these could seem like luxuries, but if you have the money, who wouldn’t give their child the best education possible? On the other hand, there are always easy, extreme examples of money-loving, such as the purchase of a luxury car. If you spent $100,000 on a commuter car when a $20,000 car would have done just fine, I can’t think of any other motivation for that purchase than that you wanted everyone to see how much money you have. And of course there are always ‘gangster’ examples – those who enrich themselves by killing others. That’s a clear example of money-loving causing evil-doing.
But coming up with extreme examples is not really that healthy for us. When we think of the owner of the $100,000 commuter vehicle, we may start thinking, “Thank you, God, that I am not like that.” But this strikes me as exactly the same attitude as the hypocrite in Luke 18:11 who prayed “God, I thank you that I am not like other men, extortioners, unjust, adulterers, or even like this tax collector.” Just because we can find someone worse than us does not mean that we're off the hook. Yes, I feel confident about saying that I love money less than someone who kills for it. But so what?
The difficulty in properly interpreting these passages is dangerous. It makes it easy for us to justify to ourselves that we are not money-lovers. But…what if we are? This blog series is different than some of my other ones. I often have a direction, but I don’t know where I’m going with this one. So any comments would be useful – what do you think it means to love money? And how do you ensure that you do not?
“No one can serve two masters, for either he will hate the one and love the other, or he will be devoted to the one and despise the other. You cannot serve God and money.” Matt. 6:24
“For the love of money is a root of all kinds of evils…” I Tim 6:10
I’m wondering what it means to love money, and how I can be assured that I do not. It’s easy to quickly dismiss the possibility that this verse applies to me or to you, because we might say: “Well, I’m not as rich as some in our society.” This line of reasoning fails immediately for three reasons. First, I and everyone reading this blog are in fact some of the richest people in the world. And second, there are enough Scriptural counterexamples to show that merely having money is not the same as loving it. David, for instance, was filthy rich, as were most of the patriarchs. And we can also turn that around - it’s easy to imagine a person in poverty who loves money and is willing to lie and kill to get it, but simply doesn’t have it yet. So finding a few people in America who have more money than we do is perfectly irrelevant to the question, “Do I love money?”
So it's clear that having money does not equal loving money. But what could those passages mean then? Surprisingly, it’s difficult to come up with clear examples of money-loving. For instance, spending a lot on a home could be justified as an investment, as could sending your kids to an expensive college, or buying the organic milk for twice as much as regular milk. From the perspective of some, these could seem like luxuries, but if you have the money, who wouldn’t give their child the best education possible? On the other hand, there are always easy, extreme examples of money-loving, such as the purchase of a luxury car. If you spent $100,000 on a commuter car when a $20,000 car would have done just fine, I can’t think of any other motivation for that purchase than that you wanted everyone to see how much money you have. And of course there are always ‘gangster’ examples – those who enrich themselves by killing others. That’s a clear example of money-loving causing evil-doing.
But coming up with extreme examples is not really that healthy for us. When we think of the owner of the $100,000 commuter vehicle, we may start thinking, “Thank you, God, that I am not like that.” But this strikes me as exactly the same attitude as the hypocrite in Luke 18:11 who prayed “God, I thank you that I am not like other men, extortioners, unjust, adulterers, or even like this tax collector.” Just because we can find someone worse than us does not mean that we're off the hook. Yes, I feel confident about saying that I love money less than someone who kills for it. But so what?
The difficulty in properly interpreting these passages is dangerous. It makes it easy for us to justify to ourselves that we are not money-lovers. But…what if we are? This blog series is different than some of my other ones. I often have a direction, but I don’t know where I’m going with this one. So any comments would be useful – what do you think it means to love money? And how do you ensure that you do not?
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