Artist's conception of the pre-1835 Amherst meetinghouse before
it was moved off the village green and remodeled. Drawing by Philip S. Avery.
The Rev. Maureen
Frescott
Congregational Church
of Amherst, UCC
Nineteenth Sunday
after Pentecost – Faith Promise Sunday
Matthew 22:15-22
“The
Prosperity Gospel”
The
year was 1739.
37 years before our nation was born.
In
the wilds of the provincial New Hampshire territory, a group of men and women
gathered at what is now the corner of Mack Hill and Jones Road and raised the
first timbers of a new meetinghouse.
The
idea to build a meeting space and church had been hatched four years earlier,
but it took that long to get the forest cleared, the soil tilled, the crops
raised, and the settlement semi-established, ensuring that men, women, and
materials would be available for the build.
The
simple post and beam framing went up, and two years later, on September 22,
1741, what would become the Congregational Church of Amherst came into being.
With
money and manpower scarce it would take 11 years for the meetinghouse to be
completed. But long before the building had solid walls, a roof, or a pulpit, the
church’s first minister was called.
Daniel
Wilkins, a new arrival in the settlement, agreed to shepherd the new
congregation. A special committee was
formed to plan the ordination and installation, and they were given the explicit
instruction that the cost “should not exceed” 40 British pounds, or as much
LESS as possible.[i]
Thus
273 years ago, in this very church, the phrase “Don’t dream bigger than your
budget” was born.
In
reality, most churches have their dreams limited by their budgets.
Especially
churches with histories similar to ours.
Churches
like ours were built on bare bones funding, by people who were accustomed to
enduring the hardships of frontier living and long cold New England winters.
Those
who spent wildly when the weather was warm and resources were abundant were
doomed to starve when the wind grew cold and the fields were bare.
It
was better to be frugal and survive, then extravagant and facing certain death.
In
December, 1818, some 44 years after our forbearers scrimped and saved to build this
new second meeting house, and set it on the village green, a town meeting was
called to discuss possible building improvements.
A
small group of church members proposed that warming stoves be purchased to heat
the meetinghouse during Sunday services in the winter. Because, as cold as we
think it gets in here now during the winter months, this building at that time
was completely unheated.
But
to the dismay of the vocal minority, a majority of the members voted the
proposal down. It would cost too much.
That
same month, this editorial appeared in the local newspaper:
It will be seen by the article on our first page
that even the Indians have stoves in their meetinghouses, and is it not
astonishing then, that civilized and enlightened people have none, but that
they nearly freeze themselves and their children every Sabbath in the winter,
when the trifling expense of ONE DOLLAR EACH would make them comfortable? [ii]
The
letter ended with these words of wisdom:
“A word to the frozen, we
hope will be sufficient, to make them weather-wise.”
It
wasn’t until 1823 – five years later - that the people finally voted to install
warming stoves in the meetinghouse, and then only by individual subscriptions.
People would pay for the stoves in the same way they paid for their pews.
If
you wanted a good seat, and you wanted to be warm, it was going to cost you.
Jesus
didn’t have much to say about what it might cost to build and maintain the Body
of Christ.
When
he sent his disciples out to spread the good news of the gospel he instructed
them to travel light and to count on the hospitality of strangers.
He didn’t
talk about the stresses of balancing a church budget, the cost of pastors and
programs, or the depressing futility of heating a 240-year-old building during
a long New England winter.
Jesus
looked at the coin that his challengers produced and said,
“Give
therefore to the emperor the things that are the emperor’s, and to God the
things that are God’s.”
Jesus
knew full well, that all that we have belongs to God.
But
we’re always looking for ways to make that not be true.
We’re
like the little boy who was given two quarters -- one for the Sunday School
offering plate and one for an ice cream cone.
While
he was walking to church. one of the coins slipped out of his hand, landed in
the street, rolled towards a sewer grating, and plopped down into the water
below.
The
little boy raised his face toward heaven and said with genuine sorrow,
"Well, God, there goes your quarter."
Perhaps
there is a reason why Jesus seems to give what some would say is an unclear
response to the challenge of who is the rightful owner of the Roman coin - God
or the Emperor.
There
are some unavoidable costs to being a citizen in this world – taxes, housing,
food, education, health care, security – all of these things cost money, and a
good portion of the money we earn goes to support them.
What’s
left over goes towards the things that make life enjoyable when we’re not
working to earn money to pay for the necessities – entertainment, sports, recreation,
the creative arts, travel, gifts for family and friends.
And
then there are the ways we give directly back to God – charitable giving,
volunteering, and being an active and supportive member of a religious
community.
How
we choose to slice up that pie says a lot about our values, our fears, and the
individual challenges that we face.
Depending
on our socio-economic bracket the first two slices of the pie get the bulk of
our attention - with the poor leaning heavily towards the necessities slice, the
rich having more to devote to the enjoyment slice, and the middle class falling
somewhere in between.
The
sad truth is, few of us are devoting more than a token amount to the God slice.
In
2012, the latest year for which the numbers are available, church giving across
all denominations dropped to less than 2.2 percent of member’s incomes, the
lowest percentage in almost 50 years.
Church
attendance and participation is also down across the board, which means our
time and talent is being spent elsewhere as well.
Perhaps
it’s because we no longer find much in the church experience that is valuable
to us.
Maybe
we’re bored with the same old worship, not excited by the programs that are
offered, or have no time to get more involved even if we want to.
Maybe
we think the church is too liberal, or too conservative, too judgmental, or too
lenient, too traditional, or too watered down to be meaningful.
Maybe
we’ve been hurt by an insensitive comment, an overlooked contribution, or the
fact that no one seemed to notice when we drifted away.
Maybe
we’re so focused on what the church is giving to us, that we have a hard time
seeing it as a vehicle for us to give to others, and to God.
In
the Protestant tradition, the church is not an entity unto itself - an
amorphous force that exists to serve or deny us. The church is
us.
Each
of us is called by God to make the church what it is.
We
are creating it and recreating it as we go along.
We
are the body of Christ in the world.
And
because we’re human, the church is human.
With
all it’s brokenness, all its hypocrisies, and all it’s blunders.
The
truth is that we’re going to let each other down on occasion, and we’re going
to fail to live up everyone’s expectations all of the time, 100% of the time.
That is guaranteed.
What
we often lose sight of is the many ways that the church does live up to God’s
call.
We
– the church – provide a sanctuary for the weary, the wounded, and the
overwhelmed.
We
– the church – create music that inspires, liturgy that comforts, and words
that challenge.
We
– the church – feed the hungry, teach children about God’s unconditional love,
and raise our voices in the name of justice, peace, and forgiveness – because
who else will, if not us?
And
we – the church - are here for people during all the pivotal moments of life –
birth, marriage, loss, sickness, and death – all the moments that have us
craving ritual and connection and community.
The
reality is that looking over a church budget that is heavily skewed towards
maintenance costs, staff salaries, and just keeping our head above water does
not often inspire us to delve into our pockets and give to God out of our
generosity and gratitude.
But
all those the things that I just mentioned – we – the church - would not be
able to do any of them without this sanctuary, these meeting spaces, the
furnace that keeps us warm in the winter, these pastors and gifted musicians, these
dedicated members and volunteers who support and sustain our programs and our
community outreach.
And
we’re doing all of this on less than 2.2% of our collective incomes.
Think
of what we could do if each of us gave just 1% more...or 2%...or 5%?
Think
of what we could do if we gave more of ourselves
to God?
In
the past this congregation has dared to dream bigger than its budget.
It
hired its first pastor when there was no roof to keep the congregation dry.
It
built a brand new meetinghouse when the old one no longer met its needs.
And when conflicts tore the congregation two, it sustained itself, survived,
and prospered, again, and again.
In
1874, on the occasion of the 100th anniversary of the dedication of
this meetinghouse, the Rev. Josiah Gardner Davis spoke about the group of men
and woman who gathered at the corner of Mack Hill and Jones Rd in 1739 and
planted the seeds of this church. He said:
We have no question of the genuineness of their
faith and the sincerity of their love. A people moving in the forests, to clear
for themselves homesteads in the solitudes of the wilderness, do not take on
themselves the burden of building meetinghouses and sustaining ministers
without deep convictions of the value of the gospel.[iii]
275
years later, the gospel is still our motivating force.
The
gospel is what sustains us in times of abundance and prosperity, and in times
of scarcity and loss.
The
gospel is why so many everyday sinners and saints have chosen to sit in these
pews and then go out into the world in service.
The
gospel is why Jesus had no issue flipping over the coin of his challengers and
challenging them to give back to God what God has given them.
For
some, the challenge is greater than others.
There’s
the story of the very wealthy man who stood up in the middle of the Sunday
service in a tiny rural church to talk about his Christian faith.
“I'm
a multimillionaire,” he said, “and I attribute it all to the blessings of God.”
He
continued, “I remember the day my
life changed. I had just earned my first dollar and I stopped into this very
church to offer my gratitude to God. The
preacher challenged us to give back to God what God has given to us. I
only had a dollar but I knew I had to either give it all to God’s work or
nothing at all. So at that moment I decided to put all the money I had to my
name in the collection plate. I believe that God blessed that decision, and
that is why I am a rich man today.”
The
man finished his testimony and there was an awed silence as he sat down.
Then
a little old lady sitting in the pew behind him leaned over and said:
“I dare you to do it again.”
Perhaps
we should dare each other to believe in the gospel of prosperity.
To
believe that giving leads to receiving, even if we’re not always the one
directly on the receiving end. Because more often than not, we are.
God
has given us life and unconditional love and grace.
What
might WE give to God in return?
Amen.
The Congregational Church of Amherst, NH, circa 1870.
[i] Historical discourse delivered at Amherst,
N.H., on the hundredth anniversary of the dedication of the Congregational
meeting-house, 1874, pg. 9.
[ii] Walking Tours of Amherst Village,
Historical Society of Amherst, New Hampshire, pg. 9.
[iii] Historical discourse delivered at Amherst,
N.H., on the hundredth anniversary of the dedication of the Congregational
meeting-house, 1874, pg. 21.
