Cash-Strapped Cathedrals -- FPC sermon excerpt
The cathedrals of England are running out of money.
Because of declining worship attendance, these magnificent cathedrals are now charging admission fees. At York Minister, if you want to enter and admire the 500-year-old stained glass windows, you have to fork over an $11 cover charge. Once inside, you run into frequent appeals to give money, as well as a $10 guidebook and a gift-shop that sells all sorts of church-related knick-knacks.
So much for being a free and open “house of prayer for all peoples” (Isaiah 56:7).
According to the Economist magazine (February 16, 2008), York Minster is not alone. Westminster Abbey and St. Paul’s Cathedral also have admission fees, and other cathedrals are looking for money from the National Lottery — they want to use gamblers to support religion! Still other cathedrals charge for car parking, or they moonlight as conference centers. Because they attract a dwindling number of worshipers, they have to operate more like businesses than communities of faith.
If we want to avoid becoming a cash-strapped cathedral, we have to pay attention to what Jesus is trying to teach us in the parable of the talents. In this story, a master sets out on a journey, but before he leaves he hands over his money to this servants — he gives out coins called talents, which are weighty and valuable units of money. Each talent is worth more than fifteen years of wages for a laborer — in today’s dollars, each talent would be worth about $300,000.
So this is serious money, and you can understand why the servants would not want to lose it. Jesus tells us that the first two servants invest their talents and double their money, while the last servant buries his piece of silver in the ground. After a long time, the master returns and settles accounts with them. The first two report on their investments, and the master praises them for taking risks with his money. He gives them additional responsibility, and invites them to share in the joy of their lord. The third servant, however, makes a very different kind of report.
“Master, I knew that you were a harsh man,” he says, “so I was afraid, and I went and hid your talent in the ground.” He returns his one talent to the master, saying, “Here you have what is yours” (Matthew 25:24-25). The master condemns the servant for being lazy, because he did nothing with the talent that he was given. The master points out that if the servant truly feared him as “a harsh man,” then the very least he could have done would be take the coin to the bankers to gain interest. This would have taken no more effort than digging a hole in the ground. But the servant showed no imagination, or intelligence, or care, or commitment. He did the first and simplest and safest thing that came to mind: Bury the talent in the ground.
The result is that the master takes the single talent away from the servant, and gives it to one of the good investors. Instead of being invited into the joy of the lord, he is cast away into outer darkness (vv. 28-30). What the servant believed about the master has now come true. He really is “a harsh man,” punishing severely those who use his property without imagination, intelligence, care or commitment.
I’m afraid that the leaders of cash-strapped cathedrals are behaving a lot like this one-talent servant. They have each been given something precious — a magnificent cathedral, worth way more than $300,000. They see that people want to come inside, so what do they do? They do the first and simplest and safest of things: They charge admission. They don’t take a risk for the sake of the gospel. They don’t show any real creativity or passion. They don’t multiply their investment — they simply preserve it. That is like burying your talent in the ground.
People who bury their treasures are not setting themselves up for any commendation from the master. You see, God does not want us to simply preserve what we have been given. He wants us to risk it and invest it, with imagination, intelligence, care and commitment.
That’s true whether we worship at York Minster, or at FPC.
Because of declining worship attendance, these magnificent cathedrals are now charging admission fees. At York Minister, if you want to enter and admire the 500-year-old stained glass windows, you have to fork over an $11 cover charge. Once inside, you run into frequent appeals to give money, as well as a $10 guidebook and a gift-shop that sells all sorts of church-related knick-knacks.
So much for being a free and open “house of prayer for all peoples” (Isaiah 56:7).
According to the Economist magazine (February 16, 2008), York Minster is not alone. Westminster Abbey and St. Paul’s Cathedral also have admission fees, and other cathedrals are looking for money from the National Lottery — they want to use gamblers to support religion! Still other cathedrals charge for car parking, or they moonlight as conference centers. Because they attract a dwindling number of worshipers, they have to operate more like businesses than communities of faith.
If we want to avoid becoming a cash-strapped cathedral, we have to pay attention to what Jesus is trying to teach us in the parable of the talents. In this story, a master sets out on a journey, but before he leaves he hands over his money to this servants — he gives out coins called talents, which are weighty and valuable units of money. Each talent is worth more than fifteen years of wages for a laborer — in today’s dollars, each talent would be worth about $300,000.
So this is serious money, and you can understand why the servants would not want to lose it. Jesus tells us that the first two servants invest their talents and double their money, while the last servant buries his piece of silver in the ground. After a long time, the master returns and settles accounts with them. The first two report on their investments, and the master praises them for taking risks with his money. He gives them additional responsibility, and invites them to share in the joy of their lord. The third servant, however, makes a very different kind of report.
“Master, I knew that you were a harsh man,” he says, “so I was afraid, and I went and hid your talent in the ground.” He returns his one talent to the master, saying, “Here you have what is yours” (Matthew 25:24-25). The master condemns the servant for being lazy, because he did nothing with the talent that he was given. The master points out that if the servant truly feared him as “a harsh man,” then the very least he could have done would be take the coin to the bankers to gain interest. This would have taken no more effort than digging a hole in the ground. But the servant showed no imagination, or intelligence, or care, or commitment. He did the first and simplest and safest thing that came to mind: Bury the talent in the ground.
The result is that the master takes the single talent away from the servant, and gives it to one of the good investors. Instead of being invited into the joy of the lord, he is cast away into outer darkness (vv. 28-30). What the servant believed about the master has now come true. He really is “a harsh man,” punishing severely those who use his property without imagination, intelligence, care or commitment.
I’m afraid that the leaders of cash-strapped cathedrals are behaving a lot like this one-talent servant. They have each been given something precious — a magnificent cathedral, worth way more than $300,000. They see that people want to come inside, so what do they do? They do the first and simplest and safest of things: They charge admission. They don’t take a risk for the sake of the gospel. They don’t show any real creativity or passion. They don’t multiply their investment — they simply preserve it. That is like burying your talent in the ground.
People who bury their treasures are not setting themselves up for any commendation from the master. You see, God does not want us to simply preserve what we have been given. He wants us to risk it and invest it, with imagination, intelligence, care and commitment.
That’s true whether we worship at York Minster, or at FPC.
posted by Henry Brinton | 2:18 PM
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