Stewardship Spirituality
01-08

1. Participate in Your Parish’s Gift Certificate Program. The number one way in which you can be a good financial steward does not really cost you any money. All it requires is a little planning a head. Almost every parish sells gift certificates after Mass on Sunday (and some parishes even offer them throughout the work week). It is really simple way for a parish to make money. You buy a certificate for a store or restaurant that you are going to for face value (for example a $25.00 gift certificate to a grocery store costs you $25.00) and the parish receives a percentage of the sale of the certificate from the vendor. All that is required of you is some planning.

2. Pray & Plan Your Giving. Prayer should always be the first thing you do but I put the gift certificate program as #1 because it does not cost you anything. When making out your budget take time to ask yourself what it is that you wish to give to your Church, do not simply allow it to be whatever is left over at the end of the month. Remember God is never outdone in generosity.

3. Step Up and Volunteer. While not everyone maybe able to give monetarily to support their parish everyone can devote some of their time and skills to help their parish. Pastors and principals are always looking for people to volunteer their time. Fundraisers do not take place without the help of dedicated volunteers and volunteers can often do many things that if not taken care of will eventually have to be done by someone who wants to be paid for his or her services.

4. Participate in Parish Fundraisers especially those revolving around food. Growing up I looked forward to the Spaghetti Dinners and Pancake Breakfasts because they were not only fundraisers but a chance to meet other parishioners.

5. Teach Your Children. A child is never too young to learn about the importance of charity. Take the time to help your child about giving and help them through your example. Let them know why you are putting that envelop into the collection basket each Sunday.

6. Don’t forget St. Vincent DePaul. Your parish St. Vincent DePaul society helps so many of the needy in the area. They can only serve Christ in the poor with help from you. This is another great organization in which volunteers are needed.

7. Buying A Step Down. When purchasing a large product like a car, television, or appliances first figure out what is the best product you can buy and then buy a step down and then give the money you saved to the poor. For example if you can afford a 42inch television buy a 32 inch instead and give the extra money to the Church or to the poor.

8. Special Family Collections. During Lent and Advent set a container (like a rice bowl) in a prominent place in your house. After praying together as a family take time to ask your family to put their change in it for a certain period of time. At the end of that time take it as a family and give it to the Church or to the charity of your choice.

9. Sin Jar. I have run across a lot of people who have a jar in which they put money into every time they do something that consider a bad habit like using fowl language.

10. Support those who Support Your Parish. If you know of a restaurant or business that is advertising on the back cover of your parish bulletin or donating a lot of stuff to your parish make an effort to support them and then let them know that the reason why you are supporting them is because you want to thank them for supporting your parish.

Money will buy
A bed but not sleep;
Books but not brains;
Food but not appetite;
Finery but not beauty;
A house but not a home;
Medicine but not health;
Luxuries but not culture;
Amusements but not happiness;
Religion but not salvation;
A passport to everywhere but heaven.
- Original source unknown

The last part of a person to be converted is their wallet.
- Ann Bird, Methodist Publishing

Prayer is the radical starting point of fundraising because in prayer we slowly experience a reorientation of all our thoughts and feelings about ourselves and others.  To pray is to desire to know more fully the truth that sets us free (see John 8:32).  Prayer uncovers the hidden motives and unacknowledged wounds that shape our relationships.  Prayer allows us to see ourselves and others as God sees us.  Prayer is radical because it uncovers the deepest roots of our identity in God.  In prayer we seek God’s voice and allow God’s word to penetrate our fear and resistance so that we can begin to hear what God wants us to know.  And what God wants us to know.  And what God wants us to know is that before we think or do or accomplish anything, before we have much money or little money, the deepest truth of our human identity is this: “You are my beloved son.  You are my beloved daughter.  With you I am well pleased” (see Luke 3:22).  When we claim this truth as true for us then we also see that it is true for all other people.  God is well pleased with us, and so we are free to approach all people, the rich or the poor, in the freedom of God’s love.  Whether people respond to our fund-raising appeal with a “Yes,” a “no,” or a “maybe” is less important than the knowledge that we all are gathered as one on the holy ground of God’s generous disposition toward us.  In prayer, therefore, we learn to trust that God can work fruitfully through us no matter where we are or who we are with. 
 
As our prayer deepens into a constant awareness of God’s goodness, the spirit of gratitude grows within us.  Gratitude flows from the recognition that who we are and what we have are gifts to be received and shred.  Gratitude releases us from the bonds of obligation and prepares us to offer ourselves freely and fully for the work of the Kingdom.  Where we approach fund-raising in a spirit of gratitude, we do so knowing that God has already given us what we most need for life in abundance.  Therefore our confidence in our mission and vision, and our freedom to love the person to whom we are talking about donating money, do not depend on how that person responds.  In this way, gratitude allows us to approach a fund-raising meeting without grasping neediness and to leave it without resentment or dejection.  Coming and going, we can remain secure in God’s love with our hearts set joyfully on the Kingdom.

Nouwen, Henri: The Spirituality of Fundraising (Richmond Hill, Ontario: Upper Room Ministries, 2004)

Someone recently shared with me the following two stories…

Story #1: Pregnant Girl Is Abused By Her Boyfriend. The Guy Behind Her Teaches Everyone A Lesson
(I am standing in line around midnight. In front of me is a pregnant girl, around 20 years old. She is wearing pajamas, and clearly looking as if she has seen better days. She also has a black eye, which is a little alarming to me.)

Cashier: “Did you find everything alright?”

Pregnant Customer: “Yes, thanks. Can you see if my card has anything on it before you ring it up?”

Cashier: “No, sorry. I could ring things up one at a time and see if it’ll take for each one. If you don’t mind waiting for me to cash out the other three people in line, I’ll be more than happy to do that for you.”

Pregnant Customer: “No, no, let’s just try. I hope the deposit has hit already.”

(The cashier rings everything in, and the pregnant customer swipes the card. It declines.)

Cashier: “Do you have another form of payment?”

Pregnant Customer: “No…” *starts crying* “He must have already cancelled the card.”

Cashier: “Cancelled the card?”

Pregnant Customer: “My ex-boyfriend kicked me out tonight. He came home and said the baby couldn’t be his, hit me, and threw me out. He must have called and cancelled our food stamp card. I don’t even know where I’m going to put all this. A friend is letting me use her extra fridge until I can get an apartment.”

(One of the customers in line behind me speaks up.)

Customer Behind Me: “Ma’am, just put it on my ticket.”
(I move out of the way so the customer behind me can push his cart forward. He clearly has $200 or more worth of food on his own, and the pregnant customer has about $150.)

Cashier: “Sure.”

Pregnant Customer: “No, no I can’t.”

Customer Behind Me: “Honey, don’t lecture me. My mom was kicked out by my dad because he thought she was sleeping around on him. She worked two jobs to keep a roof over my head. I’m not letting some deadbeat a**-hole throw his girlfriend out because he has trust issues.”

Pregnant Customer: “I can’t. It’s too much. I don’t have a job; I can’t pay you back.”

Customer Behind Me: “Take my card. I’ve seen you in here a few times during regular shopping hours. You’re always very nice to the employees and everyone in line. I need a receptionist for my apartment complex on [street]. Come by tomorrow, and we’ll have an interview. I give discounts to my employees on their rent.”

(By this time, the cashier has finished ringing in the items, and they’re bagged already.)

Cashier: “Your total is $459.92.”

(The customer behind me gently pushes past the pregnant customer. He swipes his card, enters his pin, and then hugs her.)

Customer Behind Me: “Things do get better. See me tomorrow; I’m serious.”

(Sir, wherever you are… You restored some of my faith in humanity. Thank you. Ma’am, wherever you are, I hope you and your baby have a great life, and you find someone to take care of you both and love you the way you deserve. I hope you got that job, but judging from how the man was talking, I’m sure you did!)

Story #2 Manager Isn’t Sure Whether To Hire A Down Syndrome Waiter. But Then He Sees The Truth

“I try not to be biased, but I had my doubts about hiring Stevie. His placement counselor assured me that he would be a good, reliable busboy. But I had never had a mentally handicapped employee and wasn’t sure I wanted one. I wasn’t sure how my customers would react to Stevie.

He was short, a little dumpy with the smooth facial features and thick tongued speech of Down syndrome. I wasn’t worried about most of my trucker customers because, truckers don’t generally care who buses tables as long as the meat loaf platter is good and the pies are homemade.

The four wheeler drivers were the ones who concerned me; the mouthy college kids traveling to school; the yuppie snobs who secretly polish their silverware with their napkins for fear of catching some dreaded “truckstop germ”; the pairs of white shirted business men on expense accounts who think every truckstop waitress wants to be flirted with. I knew those people would be uncomfortable around Stevie so I closely watched him for the first few weeks. I shouldn’t have worried. After the first week, Stevie had my staff wrapped around his stubby little finger, and within a month my truck regulars had adopted him as their official truckstop mascot. After that, I really didn’t care what the rest of the customers thought of him.

He was like a 21-year-old in blue jeans and Nikes, eager to laugh and eager to please, but fierce in his attention to his duties. Every salt and pepper shaker was exactly in its place, not a bread crumb or coffee spill was visible when Stevie got done with the table. Our only problem was persuading him to wait to clean a table until after the customers were finished. He would hover in the background, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, scanning the dining room until a table was empty. Then he would scurry to the empty table and carefully bus dishes and glasses onto cart and meticulously wipe the table up with a practiced flourish of his rag. If he thought a customer was watching, his brow would pucker with added concentration. He took pride in doing his job exactly right, and you had to love how hard he tried to please each and every person he met.

Over time, we learned that he lived with his mother, a widow who was disabled after repeated surgeries for cancer. They lived on their Social Security benefits in public housing two miles from the truckstop. Their Social worker, who stopped to check on him every so often, admitted they had fallen between the cracks. Money was tight, and what I paid him was probably the difference between them being able to live together and Stevie being sent to a group home.

That’s why the restaurant was a gloomy place that morning last August, the first morning in three years that Stevie missed work. He was at the Mayo Clinic in Rochester getting a new valve or something put in his heart. His social worker said that people with Down syndrome often had heart problems at an early age so this wasn’t unexpected, and there was a good chance he would come through the surgery in good shape and be back at work in a few months.

A ripple of excitement ran through the staff later that morning when word came that he was out of surgery, in recovery and doing fine. Frannie, my head waitress, let out a war hoop and did a little dance in the aisle when she heard the good news. Belle Ringer, one of our regular trucker customers, stared at the sight of the 50-year-old grandmother of four doing a victory shimmy beside his table. Frannie blushed, smoothed her apron and shot Belle Ringer a withering look. He grinned.

“OK, Frannie, what was that all about?” he asked.

“We just got word that Stevie is out of surgery and going to be okay.”

“I was wondering where he was. I had a new joke to tell him. What was the surgery about?”

Frannie quickly told Belle Ringer and the other two drivers sitting at his booth about Stevie’s surgery, then sighed. “Yeah, I’m glad he is going to be OK” she said, “But I don’t know how he and his Mom are going to handle all the bills. From what I hear, they’re barely getting by as it is.”

Belle Ringer nodded thoughtfully, and Frannie hurried off to wait on the rest of her tables. Since I hadn’t had time to round up a busboy to replace Stevie and really didn’t want to replace him, the girls were busing their own tables that day until we decided what to do.

After the morning rush, Frannie walked into my office. She had a couple of paper napkins in her hand a funny look on her face.

“What’s up?” I asked.

“I didn’t get that table where Belle Ringer and his friends were sitting cleared off after they left, and Pony Pete and Tony Tipper were sitting there when I got back to clean it off” she said. “These napkins were left on their table.”

She handed the napkin to me, and three $20 bills fell onto my desk when I opened it. On the inside, in big, bold letters, was printed “Something For Stevie.”

“Pony Pete asked me what that was all about,” she said, “so I told him about Stevie and his Mom and everything, and Pete looked at Tony and Tony looked at Pete, and they ended up giving me this.” She handed me another paper napkin that had “Something For Stevie” scrawled on it. Two $50 bills were tucked within its folds. Frannie looked at me with wet, shiny eyes, shook her head and said simply “truckers.”

That was three months ago. Today is Thanksgiving, the first day Stevie is supposed to be back to work. His placement worker said he’s been counting the days until the doctor said he could work, and it didn’t matter at all that it was a holiday. He called 10 times in the past week, making sure we knew he was coming, fearful that we had forgotten him or that his job was in jeopardy.

I arranged to have his mother bring him to work, met them in the parking lot and invited them both to celebrate his day back. Stevie was thinner and paler, but couldn’t stop grinning as he pushed through the doors and headed for the back room where his apron and busing cart were waiting.

“Hold up there, Stevie, not so fast,” I said. I took him and his mother by their arms. “Work can wait for a minute. To celebrate you coming back, breakfast for you and your mother is on me.”

I led them toward a large corner booth at the rear of the room. I could feel and hear the rest of the staff following behind as we marched through the dining room. Glancing over my shoulder, I saw booth after booth of grinning truckers empty and join the procession. We stopped in front of the big table. Its surface was covered with coffee cups, saucers and dinner plates, all sitting slightly crooked on dozens of folded paper napkins.

“First thing you have to do, Stevie, is clean up this mess,” I said. I tried to sound stern. Stevie looked at me, and then at his mother, then pulled out one of the napkins. It had “Something for Stevie” printed on the outside. As he picked it up, two $10 bills fell onto the table. Stevie stared at the money, then at all the napkins peeking from beneath the tableware, each with his name printed or scrawled on it.

I turned to his mother. “There’s more than $10,000 in cash and checks on that table, all from truckers and trucking companies that heard about your problems. Happy Thanksgiving.”

Well, it got real noisy about that time, with everybody hollering and shouting, and there were a few tears, as well. But you know what’s funny? While everybody else was busy shaking hands and hugging each other, Stevie, with a big, big smile on his face, was busy clearing all the cups and dishes from the table.

Best worker I ever hired.”

As I read these two stories it made me think of a third parable type story that I had read in a book called The Spirituality of Imperfection: Storytelling and the Search for Meaning written by Ernest Kurtz & Katherine Ketcham. That story goes like this: A man walking through the forest saw a fox that had lost its legs, and he wondered how it lived. Then he saw a tiger come up with the game in its mouth. The tiger ate its fill and left the rest of the meat for the fox. The next day God fed the fox by the means of the same tiger. The man began to wonder at God’s greatness and said to himself, “I too shall just rest in a corner with full trust in the Lord and he will provide me with all that I need.”He did this for many days but nothing happened, and he was almost at death’s door when he heard a voice say, “O you who are in the path of error, open your eyes to the truth! Stop imitating the disable fox and follow the example of the tiger.”

As I read the three previous stories I could not help but think that I wanted to be the hero of the stories. I wanted to be the man who helped the young pregnant lady, I wanted to be the owner and the truck-drivers who helped the young man with Down syndrome stay with his mother, and I wanted to be the tiger. In other words I wanted to be the hero.

As I continued to pray and reflect on this idea of being the hero, I began hearing God tell me that by donating to the charities that I do, I do get to be the hero. For example by donating to my parish Saint Vincent DePaul Society, I help feed the hungry in my area. The food that my parish Saint Vincent DePaul gives out keeps people in my neighbor hood from starving. I have also helped teens in Haiti discover Jesus Christ by supporting a Life Teen Missionary this past year. Helping her spread the message of God’s love to some of the poorest people in the world. Back here in St. Louis, I donate money to Saint Louis Life Teen which helps teens from over 12 parishes come together and learn more about Jesus keeping them out of gangs and away from drugs. Another example, I have given this last year to Lindenwood Area Senior Ministry and my donation has helped them help seniors in my neighborhood stay in their homes longer by providing help with home repairs and transportation to doctor appointments. Finally another real way in which I have saved a life is by my donation to pro-life causes. Stewardship is all about being a hero but not for the fame or fortune but because it is the right thing to do!

I want to conclude this reflection by thanking the many of you who share of your resources and help save the day for so many people through your contribution to so many charities. Thank you for being a hero!