“The offering plate became obsolete years ago but most
congregations have yet to notice.” So begins an article posted recently to one
of the plethora of church ministry support web sites. Since Seneca Presbyterian
Church is in the midst of stewardship season right now, I was intrigued, so I
read on. The author makes the valid point that cash and checks are virtually obsolete
in our modern world. Most of us pay bills on-line and pay for dining out with
credit cards. Why can’t we give to God the same way?
I must admit that the world of
convenient “cash” is freeing. I’ve lived long enough to remember when you could
only cash checks at your bank, and you had to be on an approved list at your regular
station to pay for your gas with one. Now you can travel around the world with
just that small piece of plastic. Traveler’s checks? Who needs them anymore!
So, the author continued, passing
an offering plate in the middle of a service of worship to receive something
that has become virtually obsolete is inherently embarrassing. Many may be
inclined to give, but have no means of doing so. Better to encourage on-line
giving. And for those who wish to donate on-site, a credit card kiosk in the
narthex would be a welcoming sign of a modern church.
I can identify with the
dilemma. I used to make my contributions through a monthly draft from my
checking account. It was very convenient and also very faithful. The debit was
made every month regardless of the current state of my finances. Now that’s
every church treasurer’s dream! But not
this pastor’s.
A couple of years ago, I was
inspired by the witness of one of our most faithful church members. I was told
by those who sit around her in the worship service that as the plate is passed
to her, she pauses for a moment and speaks a private prayer of thanks before placing
her envelope in the relic otherwise known as the offering plate. In that
moment, this otherwise obsolete practice becomes not only contemporary, but holy.
You see - I pay my bills
on-line. But my offering is not a bill; it’s a spiritual practice. The
distinction is subtle but critical.
It has been a very, very long
time since the farmer placed a bushel of his finest wheat on the altar, next to
the herdsman’s finest lamb. In those days, the concept of first fruits was
tangible and powerful. Our offering to God was meant to represent the finest,
the best, the first of all we had received from the hands of a generous God. Yet
even by the time of Jesus, most personal offerings were coins, not cattle. Still
tangible – but now also symbolic. It was up to the giver to see that the gift
still represented first fruit: an offering that came first before all other obligations
and desires.
Perhaps it is true that we
have reached yet another moment of transformation. From cattle to coins to checks
to digital transactions. But even if cash and checks are obsolete, I’m inclined
to find a way to preserve the offering plate. Why not have that kiosk in the
narthex print out a two-part receipt. One part is for the giver; the other for
the plate. Rather than retiring the offering plate to the relic room, let’s
embody the spiritual practice of never letting it pass us by without tangibly
offering up our prayers of thanks to a God who continues to bless.
