As Scott said, I was asked to talk about why I love St. Paul’s, and I’m going to do that in three short scenes.
Last spring, I helped with the baptism class, in which parents and sponsors learn and reflect about the meaning of Baptism. Toward the end of the class, I watched as these adults wrote loving letters to their children and so-to-be Godchildren, describing their prayers and hopes for lives of faith and the experience of God through nurturing community. We want to be reflective, to stop and think about meaning and these rites of passage, I thought. But without the church, would we?
On Ash Wednesday two years ago, I attended the 7:30 service and sat toward the back, waiting for the solemn and sobering service I usually enjoy. That night, though, the Rev. Canon Lee Teed preached a sermon that brought me to my knees. Her main message, as I remember it, was as simple as it gets: God loves you. Really loves you. But I felt like I was actually hearing that truth for the first time in years, and as I rode home in the car that rainy night, I kept crying and saying to Colin, “God loves me! Can you believe it? I haven’t really believed that for a long time.” And though he looked at me with confusion, my husband didn’t call me crazy (for which I love him, too).
And finally, on a Monday night just a few weeks ago, I found myself at the dinner table with Gary Owen, our neighbor and fellow cathedral member, his roommate, and my husband. Colin had offered to cook a meal as part of the 20s and 30s group Dorcas House fundraiser, and Gary was gracious enough to invite me along when he “purchased” this offering for the benefit of Dorcas House. In the warm light of Gary’s apartment, eating meatloaf and drinking pinot noir, I thought, without the church I wouldn’t be here. I wouldn’t know Gary. In our increasingly segmented society, in which we only spend time with others who are like us — in age, political persuasion, profession — I certainly wouldn’t be enjoying dinner with and learning from this good man.
For those sorts of moments and so many more, I love St. Paul’s.
What prompts me to be generous, though, is a little more complicated.
First and foremost, I am a bleeding heart who has been given much — including a guilty conscience — and so for me, giving at least 10 percent of my income away has always been a powerful and important reminder that the money’s not really mine; I didn’t EARN it any more than I EARNED my birth into a loving middle-class family with incredible parents; or any more than I EARNED the transformation that turns a single grain of wheat into my daily bread.
I realized this truth with my heart when one day after school — maybe in the 6th or 7th grade — I said something snide to my mother about a boy in my class who was always poorly dressed, seemingly unbathed, and who, quite frankly, sort of smelled. She didn’t laugh, and told me, probably not for the first time, to open my eyes.
“Bradley,” she said, “ is a sweet boy.”
“And tell me, darlin, what, exactly, did you do to earn your birth into a family with money for new clothes, and parents who nagged you to bath and groom. You’re very LUCKY, “ she said. It’s a lesson I’ve been reminded of time and again. To this day, I can’t tell you what I did to earn my joyful experiences, my food, my education, my very life. I’m stuck with my mom’s truth — that I drew a good card, and that I am, because of these gifts, perpetually blessed with more than enough, more than I need to survive, while others suffer for want of basic necessities like clean water and food and shelter.
So for me, the question is not whether or not I give, but to whom I give.
Why do I give to St. Paul’s Cathedral when there are hungry families in the world that could benefit from a direct gift? A gift of ONE dollar to the San Diego food bank provides THREE meals to a hungry brother or sister. Why, then, I ask myself, do I give to the maintenance of a building, the support of clergy and staff?
My answer is in the three stories I began with. I give BOTH to the poor AND to the cathedral because I believe with all my heart that here in the land of the rich, maybe even especially in the land of the rich, we NEED spaces that remind people that being human is about more than work and play; more than just keeping our act together and being productive and successful; more than nice homes and clothes and the latest technology; more than staying busy with work and family and friends and all manner of hobbies and activities; Here in the “land of plenty” – we have plenty of distractions! – and so we really DO need a place that provides intentional moments of reflection and reverence; that remind us that we really ARE are loved by God, and helps us learn to share love with others out of our over-flowing cup; we need spaces where we meet, encounter, and form community with people we might otherwise only pass by in the grocery story, those outside our generation, family, or social group.
I need these offerings, and I know they take money: a public gathering place, lights and coffee, and paid leadership. And so I give, praying that the money will be transformed into the real love and gifts of God for the people of God. I pray that by the grace of God, it might help alleviate our own brand of poverty in the U.S., both material and spiritual.
-Laurel Mathewson
Video here
