The Twenty-Third Sunday after Pentecost: The Bottom Line

Sirach 35:12-17

Psalm 84:1-6

2 Timothy 4:6-8, 16-18

Luke 18:9-14

It is undoubtedly expected that on one’s return from holiday, one will have stories to tell, and as I traveled through England and Wales in the last four weeks, I paid close attention to places and events, looking always for the story, the place, to share with you on my return.  So, this morning I’d like to take you to the east of England, an area known commonly as East Anglia.  It encompasses well known places like Cambridge and Norwich, less known places like Castle Acre with its ruined castle and Cluniac priory, and even lesser know places like Little Snoring and Great Snoring, two small and – appropriately so – sleepy villages near the north Norfolk coast.  More specifically I’d like to take you to the great catheral of Ely.  A fair part of East Anglia is flat land, and up until the 17^th century was full of watery marshes.  Commonly called the Fens, in the Middle Ages the area was hardly the best place to the construct large buildings or towns.  Nevertheless, it was on this shaky, marshy ground that St Etheldreda established the monastery which would eventually became Ely Catheral.  Of all the places she could have chosen, Ely made little sense.  In fact, Ely was actually an island and its name was derived from the very creatures which dwelt in its surrounding waters; it was then known as the Isle of Eels.  All this being true, why did St Etheldreda chose this spot?  She choose it because she felt she was called there by God as she wandered through the area.  Her conviction trumped any of the more “practical” considerations; and after her death, a much larger church was impractically built to house her remains and shrine.  This was built primarily of stone quarried and brought from some 50 miles away.  Of course at the time this would have a huge distance, particularly when one considers the amount of stone which the building required.  Through the years additions and repairs were made, most notably when the central tower collapsed.  To rebuild it new engineering was developed, always with an eye to further beautifying the building, and always to the glory of God.  Today the building’s total length is some 537 feet and at its highest point, the west tower, measures 215 feet.  It soars over the surrounding flat country, hence it is commonly called the “Ship of the Fens.”  However, the really amazing detail in all this, is that it is all built on a foundation of only six feet.  The marshy, watery ground forbids anything deeper.  Still, it stands.  Its building wasn’t the most logical or financially feasible course to take all those years ago, but still it was the sacredness of the spot and not the financial implications which governed the decision.

This morning we listened to the choir sing about another equally improbable place of worship, the Temple at Jerusalem: “How dear to me is your dwelling, O LORD of hosts!  My soul has a desire and longing for the courts of the LORD; my heart and my flesh rejoice in the living God.” (Psalm 84:1)  For the psalmist, the Temple is the center of the world in which all creation can find shelter, and which provides sustenance in the desert.  Yet, thinking more practically, if safety and shelter is what the early Hebrews longed for, why did they settle on Jerusalem as a principle city.  It is one of the very few, if not the only, ancient city built on a spot without a river.  It is hilly and rocky.  Again, bringing to the city the building materials for this magnificent structure – and doing so twice, since the Temple was destroyed at the time of the Babylonian Captivity – bringing the materials was not an easy task.  It was not for straightforward reasons that the place to found the city and build the Temple was chosen; rather, it was a commitment to an experience as a people, and the city’s special connection with King David, as well as the sacred history of Judaism, for example it was believed that the Temple mount was the place that Abraham almost sacrificed his son Isaac.  Lots of other places might have made more sense, and certainly been a lot cheaper, a lot less complicated.

Now, I tell you these two stories because I think they give the lie to a generally accepted premise among many people – that money is the bottom line.  Certainly, a lot of people will tell you, a lot of people tell me, that at the end of the day money is in fact the bottom line.  However, I disagree.  Money is not the bottom line. The bottom line is what you spend your money on.  Once again, because it bears repeating: Money is not the bottom line; the bottom line is what you spend your money on.  How you spend your money is more telling than  how much money you have.  Think about it for a moment, what gets the lion’s share of your resources, what gets the bulk of your income?  Whatever that is, that is your bottom line; as Jesus himself reminds his followers, “For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.” (Luke 12:34)  Wherever we put most of our treasure marks out what we most value.  Be honest, what is for you?  Your home?  Your children? Your vacation? Your car? Your relationships? Your emotional well-being?  Your church?  Where do each of these fit in your schema of priorities, and what does the schema say about your own bottom line?  When we come to think about our stewardship, it is important to bear this in mind and ask what our contribution to the life and work of our church says about our own bottom line, about what we really value.  

What is true for individuals is true also for communities, and as we look to end our stewardship campaign our finance committee will soon begin to think about drawing up a budget for the coming year; and here we too we will have to think about our bottom line.  I hope that we can be honest about our bottom line, whatever that may be.  At the same time, I want to believe that our bottom line will be about more than just paying the bills – important though that may be.  I hope it will be led my a vision greater than merely getting by, that it will be guided by where God is calling us, and not just where we think we should go or want to go.  Like St Etheldreda, I hope we will be willing to a lay a foundation on the right place, the holy place, and not just the safe or convenient place. 

Built on marshy ground, but making the glory of God and obedience to God’s call the bottom line, Ely Cathedral still stands on that same marshy ground of the Fens.  Even the Temple, while destroyed, still stands in the religious consciousness as a symbol of God’s abiding presence among human beings.  Both remain in their own way, because at some point in history someone was inspired by an extraordinary bottom line, and it was to this that they devoted their resources.  There is always a bottom line.  It’s not money, but it’s what we you give your money to.  It’s whatever you give your treasure to.  That to which we give little, we value little.  It really is as simple as that.  Where your treasure is, there’s you heart, that’s your bottom line.