All of Me – Part I

Author’s note – This is the first column of three about the total nature of stewardship. It is a letter I have shared with seminarians and newly ordained priests over the past eight years. You may notice some themes repeated from past columns, and you are likely to see them again in future columns.

A Christian Steward is, “One who receives God’s gifts gratefully, cherishes and tends them in a responsible and accountable manner, shares them in justice and love with all, and returns them with increase to the Lord” (Stewardship: A Disciple’s Response. A Pastoral Letter on Stewardship, © The United States Conference of Catholic Bishops, November, 1992).

Stewardship is not a program. Stewardship is not another name for “giving my fair share.” Stewardship is not something we focus on when the annual fundraising campaign comes around.

Stewardship is a way of life.

All that we are and all that we have come from God. The recognition of this simple fact is the keystone to understanding stewardship in our lives. However, as Catholics, our tendencies are to compartmentalize our spiritual lives and our secular lives, leaving much of the spiritual at the door of the church as we leave Mass on Sunday. Our workaday world consumes the rest of the week, and stewardship is often forgotten as we try to hammer out another report for the boss.

That way of life is not conducive to spiritual growth, either personally or as Church. It’s a self-consumed way of living that throws to the wind the belief that all good things come from God. If, indeed, all good things do come from God, it seems the logical thing to do would be to take care of them. This is a look at why we, as Catholics, believe this and what challenges we face in sharing this belief.

The ancient texts of the Pentateuch deal with the wholeness of what is ours and what is God’s.  Leviticus 27:30 states, “All tithes of the Land, whether in grain from the fields or in fruit from the trees, belong to the Lord, as sacred to him.” Psalm 24:1 tells us so beautifully, “The LORD’S are the earth and its fullness; the world and those who dwell in it.”

The New Testament discusses the totality of God’s gifts and our obligation to God in multiple places. One of the most poignant is the story of the poor woman making an offering at the Temple, as described in Mark’s Gospel:

“He sat down opposite the treasury and observed how the crowd put money into the treasury. Many rich people put in large sums. A poor widow also came and put in two small coins worth a few cents. Calling his disciples to himself, he said to them, ‘Amen, I say to you, this poor widow put in more than all the other contributors to the treasury. For they have all contributed from their surplus wealth, but she, from her poverty, has contributed all she had, her whole livelihood’”  (Mark 12: 41-44).

At Mass, when the celebrant is praying Eucharistic Prayer IV, as he holds up the body and blood of our Lord Jesus Christ, he finishes the prayer with these words:

“To all of us, your children, grant, O merciful Father, that we may enter into heavenly inheritance with the blessed Virgin Mary, Mother of God, and with your Apostles and Saints in your kingdom. There, with the whole of creation, freed from the corruption of sin and death, may we glorify you through Christ our Lord, through whom you bestow on the world all that is good.”

It is important to note that these laws of the Hebrews, the praises of the Psalm, the words of Jesus himself, and the prayers of our priests don’t say “some” or “a few” or “several.” Rather, they say “All” – “all tithes;” “the world;” “all that is good;” and the poor widow who gave “all she had, her whole livelihood.”

As always, thanks for reading. I would love to hear from you. Write to me at [email protected].

Next up – All of me, part II