I was one of the top five sales people in a group of one thousand. I sold cellophane-wrapped caramel corn balls, boxes of candy, wreaths, vegetable and flower seeds, magazine subscriptions and occasionally tickets to win something. Everything I peddled from door to door was for our Catholic school and other parish activities. Yes, I was barely tall enough to ring the doorbell, but as my father used to say about my success in sales, “That kid could sell ice to Eskimos!”

As a child, it seemed that Catholics were the only ones selling things unless a Methodist became a Girl Scout. How did all those different faith communities keep the lights on if they weren’t out there selling things? As a child, I was impressed when a Jehovah Witness family gave me a comic book for free! They weren’t selling anything. Or were they? By the way, it turned out not to be a comic book and my mother threw it away.

Father Charles Lachowitzer

Father Charles Lachowitzer

After college, I thought I could sell real estate to make enough money so that I could teach full-time as a hobby. So, I obtained my real estate license. I walked with my first customers up the steps to my first listing. There, nailed to the front door, was a huge red sign that announced that a local authority had condemned the house as unfit for human habitation. Thus ended my career in sales.

The history of many Catholic parishes and schools includes a long list of selling things to raise money.  Even as a pastor, I have walked past tables selling cookbooks, discount coupons, raffle tickets, flowers, Christmas cards and Mother’s Day corsages. Once, with a narthex full of hawkers for a good cause, I announced after Communion, “Jesus overturned the tables in the temple because they were cheating.  Our sellers are honest and it’s for a good cause!”

Catholic parishes and schools have come a long way. Parish fundraising is an emphasis on stewardship, sacrificial giving and the tried-but-still-true tripod of time, talent and treasure. The scriptural practice of “first fruits” was a gift of the best and choicest of time, talent and treasure. The time in prayer. The talent of service. The treasure that was the best fruits of labor as a gift of gratitude back to God. After all, the Apostles didn’t go around selling pomegranates to support the mission of Jesus Christ. It is simply a practical matter of ongoing catechesis that our giving is necessary for our own life of faith.

There is a well-intended practice of funding as a reward. Some give if the conditions are right.  Conditional giving is contradicted by Jesus himself. There could not have been an individual more critical of religious leaders and religious operations than Jesus. Yet in Matthew 17:24-27, Jesus sent Peter to the Sea of Galilee to catch a fish and retrieve from its mouth a coin to pay the temple tax. For Jesus, it was his duty. It was his offering. It was for God.

When we only give because the cause is good or the need is urgently pleaded, we are not making a freewill offering. It is but a judgmental decree on what is worthy of my money. Jesus honored his obligatory contribution regardless of how the Sanhedrin ran the temple.

At the time of Jesus, the first fruits of the people were brought to the temple. There were other worthy causes and people seeking alms. But the spiritual house came first. So too, our first and finest gifts are to be given to the parish, our spiritual house. It is in the parish where the sacramental life of the Church is celebrated and lived out. It is in a parish where we belong to a community in communion with the whole Church. As we seek to deepen our encounter with the person and real presence of Jesus Christ, God’s first fruit, we are to remember that for most of us, the holy sacrifice of the Mass is in a parish.

Generosity is the opposite of greed. It is putting a conscience on our dollars to first support our parish.  It is not buying a religion. It is an unconditional gift of gratitude to God for all of God’s blessings and because we belong to a spiritual home.

No compres una religión