The Economics of Love

A Sermon by Rev. Debra McKnight
Preached at Urban Abbey on July 21, 2019

Scripture

Isaiah 58:3-6
‘Why do we fast, but you do not see?
Why humble ourselves, but you do not notice?’
Look, you serve your own interest on your fast-day,
and oppress all your workers.
Look, you fast only to quarrel and to fight
and to strike with a wicked fist.
Such fasting as you do today
will not make your voice heard on high.
Is such the fast that I choose,
a day to humble oneself?
Is it to bow down the head like a bulrush,
and to lie in sackcloth and ashes?
Will you call this a fast,
a day acceptable to the Lord?

Is not this the fast that I choose:
to loose the bonds of injustice,
to undo the thongs of the yoke,
to let the oppressed go free,
and to break every yoke?

Sermon
The people are practicing their faith and the Prophet Isaiah characterizes it, “God, we are being so good, we are fasting, don’t you see us, why isn’t this fasting working?” Perhaps you heard this and you are not so much into the practice of fasting and so it seemed that you didn’t need to worry about it. The hard truth is this scripture is not so much about one type of practice as much as it is about our lived faith. We could insert any practice: you worship on Sunday and you strike with a wicked fist; you pray in public and you oppress all your workers; you sing all the hymns only to quarrel and to fight. In this passage, the prophet reminds people long past, and us today, that faith is lived in every moment; how you work, how you shop, how you parent, how you partner, everything. That means you can’t be faithful for an hour and ruthless the rest of the week, which seems obvious but is a problem in every age and tradition. The Prophet Isaiah names the systems of poverty and the work of breaking the yoke that keeps some people poor and other people wealthy. The verse continues with a plea to house the homeless, feed the hungry, cover the naked, and be present to your kin.

If you remove the yoke from among you,
the pointing of the finger, the speaking of evil,
if you offer your food to the hungry
and satisfy the needs of the afflicted,
then your light shall rise in the darkness
and your gloom be like the noonday.

Justice brings light in the gloom and darkness, but this is a whole-hearted call on every hour of our lives - not just one, two, or even three. That is the unending charge of our faith, to live it every hour and rise. This puts us in positions that are unpopular, counterintuitive, and sometimes dangerous. It puts us at odds with the systems that keep some people in poverty and other people in comfortable homes with full bellies, and I do mean homes, emphasis on the s. Our Methodist tradition pushes us to explore the economic systems around us. Methodists have been doing this from the first moment that little, campus ministry small group took flight. John Wesley and his family knew about poverty. His own father spent time in a debtor’s prison (this happens when you are in debt to a parishioner and you say something he does not like). But beyond his own family, Wesley saw the systemic structures that make poverty a reality. The British government of Wesley’s day estimated that more than half of the general population lived in poverty (Kimbrough). This means more than half of the people were treated as expendable and often targeted for prison and execution. While there were ‘Relief Acts’ to help, the Wesley brothers and their Methodist Societies confronted the violence of poverty in every facet of life. And they believed this was faithful.

Wesley believed the rich and their greed created poverty and he, like his father, was not afraid to tell rich folks. While some might have blamed the idleness of the ‘have not’s,’ Wesley saw three things as the cause of poverty in England: distillation, taxes, and the desire of luxury. He urged for personal and legal restraints to keep thousands of people from starving (Heitzenrater, Wesley and the People Called Methodist, 253). When preaching to the wealthy, he offered scriptures like “You brood of vipers” (which I’m going to say is a hard way to win a crowd and my guess is he asked them for money at the end). One English gentleman suggested Wesley should have preached that kind of sermon to people in the poor house (you know, where they need it). Wesley responded he would have preached ‘behold the lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world,’ to the poor.

Wesley asked everyone for money to make an immediate impact in the lives of people. Everyone was expected to contribute a penny a week (which, now, would be about $1.66 or $2 a week depending on the “accuracy” of various online calculators). Rich or poor — everyone gave and if you had more Wesley would invite you to give more. Out of these funds, they set up schools for children who would not have had a way to learn to read, health clinics, opportunities for people to explore their gifts, and they even created micro-lending to invest in people seeking a way out of poverty. One Methodist left the group, remarking that Wesley was “charitable to an extreme.” Ironically, this man had been one of the recipients of a micro-loan from the Methodist Societies and as he experienced success by the world’s standards, he began questioning Wesley’s reminder that generosity was a powerful practice of faith. It seemed he didn’t understand the power of generosity, the saving grace of community after all.

Wesley preached a sermon, probably a lot, called “ On the Use of Money.” His first guidance was “Gain all you can or earn all you can.” This does not sound particularly revolutionary. He urged the early Methodists to work hard without delay and to avoid being idle. But he had some clear parameters on what work should look like. Work should not forfeit your body or soul; it should not steal from your wellbeing. Don’t take three jobs and work to exhaustion; don’t work in places that are dangerous or toxic. He is talking about chemicals, particularly arsenic and lead, when he says toxic, but I think we can expand that in our minds. He thought about the everyday folks that sit at a desk need to move. His second rule was that working should not steal your neighbors’ wellbeing. Gain all you can, but don’t steal it from the people around you. Wesley names those industries like distillation that produced a high percent per volume of “fire water,” which took a lot of a man’s paycheck and impacted the family. He named pawn-brokers, and even medical professionals, that could stretch out the cure to make more money in the process. Gain all you can, work hard, but gain all you can in a way that gives life. We can imagine other fields today that profit from the hurt of others, that are poor stewards of human and natural resources, and that heap pain on the most vulnerable. We are surrounded by these kinds of industries. Our labor is sacred, we should give our gifts for a greater good and it should not steal from our wellbeing or the wellbeing of others.

Wesley’s second rule was save all you can. He was not talking about saving plans, 401K’s or anything else that might come to mind for us. He was really talking about not spending money. He was talking about a deep mindfulness about what you really need to buy, or don’t need to buy. He was talking about not wasting money on a bunch of stuff, things like gilded art, books, fine furniture, decadent meals, fine clothing, and jewelry, etc., that are not truly needed and push us into a cycle of wanting more things. Personally, I have long found this a challenge; not the gilded art part, but the mindful consumption part. It is so easy to be at Target and think "oh that would be great to have, shouldn’t I give this cute thing to my cute daughter." It is easy to mindlessly consume and I have often been really good at it. It is easy to see how much stuff we have when we have to move and start packing all of it up. I think we could build on Wesley’s rules here so that when we spend, just as when we work, it is driving toward a greater good. Are we supporting workers in healthy conditions with this purchase? Are we supporting the local economy in a way that powers a greater good, or are we spending money and fueling hurt and pain with our cheap clothing, mass market food, and our big box consumption?

As the early Methodists started gaining/earning all they could and saving all they could, they became people with some means. They were a movement largely of poor people who through their personal transformation, and through their work together; sometimes giving or receiving micro-loans; sometimes teaching people to read; sometimes offering healthcare or shared meals; moved up the socio-economic ladder. They did not mind Wesley’s comments about earn all you can or save all you can, but when Wesley said give all you can, that turned into a challenge they did not appreciate. Why should they give when they just started to gain? Wesley asked people to give it all, and as a result some people left the movement. Wesley desired each of us to experience the power of generosity, just like he asked people to take communion, read scripture, visit prisons, and pray.

His third guidance was to give all you can. Don’t keep it. Don’t waste it. Give it. This is a challenging and transformative practice. I struggle with it. I probably would have left like that micro-loan receiver when he achieved success. But this is where salvation rests. This is the saving grace of our faith. The one time Jesus says, “Salvation has come to this house” is in the Gospel of Luke and it is not because someone confessed Jesus as their Lord savior, read five passages from Romans, or said a set prayer. It had everything to do with actual, real-life transformation. Zacchaeus, (you may know the song about him being a wee-little man), the vertically challenged tax collector, had an encounter with Jesus that changes everything about his life. Jesus names, “Today salvation has come to this house” when Zacchaeus gave half of everything he owned away and then repatriated to the people he had wronged, with interest, in his work of collecting Roman taxes (Luke 19:1-10). This is when Jesus says, “Today salvation has come to this house.” Salvation is about the now. Zacchaeus didn’t need that stuff any more, his stuff didn’t define him; he was liberated and he was setting the structures right, that kept others poor. Salvation means life is different, it means the system doesn’t own you anymore, and you don’t help keep it working. Salvation means a new kind of economy and a new way forward.

This is the call of our faith, to transform ourselves and the world. The social principles invite us and guide our conversation. What companies do we want to fuel? What ways do we need to hold leaders and executives accountable for the mistreatment of our earth and our global family? What structures do we need to transform to stem the growing tide of the economic disparity between the wealthiest folks and the folks most vulnerable? And most challenging of all, how do we benefit from those systems that heap pain and hurt? These are hard problems without easy answers. When I was a new social studies teacher, there was this great lesson plan about wealth. One showed students that if minimum wage increased at the same rate as the median CEO pay, minimum wage would be $67 an hour (and that was in 1997). Another lesson was a take on musical chairs, with ten chairs each representing a tenth of the wealth and ten people each representing a tenth of the population. In the 1970s, one player would get three chairs; in the 1990’s, that one player stretched out over seven chairs while nine people piled onto three (or tried to). It ended in laughter and sometimes students tumbling on the ground. I will never forget these old lesson plans. They lead to hard debates about our context and our culture. Our faith practice may require some research and perhaps even some math. Our faith asks us to keep learning, keep thinking, and keep pushing for everyone to have a seat and everyone’s labor to be valued as sacred. There are no easy ways to do that and there are few simple answers, but this is the call of our faith. 

Is not this the fast that I choose:
to loose the bonds of injustice,
to undo the thongs of the yoke,
to let the oppressed go free,
and to break every yoke?

Our faith is challenging, because it is more than fasting to look good, or praying to seem righteous in front of our neighbors. Salvation is something much more. May we have the courage to pull at the threads of injustice and weave something new. Amen.

Reflection Questions
Read the Social Principles, economic community section below and discuss what stands out to you?
What is your experience with earning, saving and giving?
What makes giving challenging?
What do you long to learn about the economy and how you participate in it?