THREE ANGELS PUBLISHING

     "Hey ... hold on a minute, guys."

     “Jackpot!” laughs St. Katie’s pastor.  . 

     “C’mon Bob, the tickets are sixty eight bucks, a hot dog’s five, a beer’s eight … and you’re picking up nickels … get real,” says Mike Daniels, laughing softly to himself.

     Walking over to the curb, the priest retrieves a stray dime.

     As he straightens up Doc clasps him on the shoulder.

     “Well, one thing’s certain my friend, there’s nothing wrong with your eyesight.”

     “Looks like the mother lode out here today, Bob,” Billy Swanson laughs, shaking his head. “At this rate you’ll need a miner’s union card.”

     "Collections been that bad, lately, Bob?” Rabbi Green says, an impish look in his eyes.

     Hi, I’m Tony Baggz. It’s a brisk November Sunday afternoon and we’re down here at “the Bowl” for a one o’clock game. The "Boys in Black" are playing the "Fish" and excitement is in the air … the team’s eight and two and it looks like they’ll make the playoffs this year.

     Walking through the parking lot, we’re headed for home … home in this case being section 136, and "we" being Doc Rogers, myself, and several of the local clergymen.  “Alabama” and his dad, Pete, “Mike the Russian,”"Hammer," "Gumshoe," the Spinelli brothers, “Pretzels,” and some of the other guys got here about ten minutes ago.

     Seems St. Katherine’s pastor is doing some prospecting and from the sparkle in his eyes he has the look of a man who’s just found nuggets in the bottom of the gold pan. The gang’s familiar with his particular eccentricity and they get a kick out of having some fun with him. So I don’t think the good priest has heard the end of their good natured jests. Then again, I’ve known him for over fifteen years and he can hold his own…

     … Let’s listen in....

     “You know the way you dove on those coins makes me wonder if you’ve ever heard those words about the love of money, Bob.” chuckles John Randall. “... want me to quote the Good Book?”   

     “You know, if you want, Bob, we can duck behind that partition over there and I’ll hear your confession,” Rabbi Green teases.

     Shaking his head, a look of mock disbelief crosses Billy Swanson's face.

     “A rabbi hearing a priest’s confession,” he says. “… that’s rich … what’s next … our esteemed Baptist colleague here performing a bris in the baptismal pool.”   

     Martin Williams breaks into his trademark belly laugh.

     “Marty the mohel … there’s one for the books. Next thing you know, Josh here will pull out a rosary and lead the synagogue in a rousing rendition of “Ave Maria.”   

     “Ave Maria … nice song … I especially like Pavarotti’s version,” the Rabbi says, a devilish gleam in his eye. “… “but, ah, don’t hold your breath … they’d run me out of town.”

     “Hey, there’s another one,” says the priest, spying a coin under a blue minivan.  “Looks like my lucky day.”

     Picking up a nickel he turns to his friends and, seeing the looks on their faces, he shrugs his shoulders and grins sheepishly.

     “Hey guys, it’s just an old habit … call it a superstition if you want,” he says. “I never walk over money. It goes back to when I was a kid. Dad died when I was twelve and it was a struggle … a quarter was a week’s allowance, and five dollars was real money.” 

     Winking at Rabbi Josh, a ‘watch this’ looks crosses Doc Roger’s face.

     “Didn’t George Washington’s wooden teeth cost five dollars?”

     “Naah, Doc …” says the Rabbi. “… you’re thinking of Blackbeard’s peg leg.”

     Laughing and feigning the gait of a man walking with a limp, the good pastor resumes heading for the stadium gate, the rest of the gang in tow.

     “Bob, like John said, though, wasn’t it your Carpenter who said love of money is the root of all evil?” Rabbi Green asks, catching up to him.

     “Ahhh... Josh, that He did … He said love … not respect. They’re two completely different things.

     “… different ... how do you figure?”

     “Well, love of money as Jesus meant it is a form of greed … amassing it, hoarding it ... acquiring it without putting forth an honest effort. And that profanes both man and money. That kind of attitude fails to recognize the sacred nature of money.”

     “Sacred?” Doc asks, a skeptical look crossing his face. 

     “Yea, Doc, sacred. We are made in the image and likeness of God and part of that likeness is to be creative, productive, and honest. And money is the tangible tribute we give to those attributes. To my way of thinking, making money honestly, trading value for value, is a virtuous thing. A way of praying, really. And that makes money sacred.” 

     “And you’re saying you see that in your Jesus, Bob?” the Rabbi asks.

     “I do, Josh. He was a working man, a carpenter, a builder who used his intelligence and his creative and productive talents to produce products and services for others. I can only think he produced high quality work for a fair and equitable price. And being paid for His efforts in the coin of the realm, He had a great respect for money and what it represented. He made a profit, and an honest profit is an honorable and virtuous achievement.”

     Looking at the coins in his hand, Father Bob continues.

     "You see, like I said, to make money is to give value for value … to earn it by honest labor … to contribute positively to the world around us in the way God envisioned when he created us."

     “Good point,” Doc says quietly ... almost to himself.

     “On the other hand, to obtain money dishonestly, by coercion, immoral means, deception; to obtain it without an honest and equal exchange of trading value for equal value, is to prostitute money to the dark side of man’s nature … greed and laziness."

     “And do we know people like that?” chuckles Martin Williams.

     “Oh yea ... just look at the interest rates on credit cards nowadays.”

     Mike Daniels shakes his head. “Amen to that,” he says.

     "Sorry ... couldn't help myself," says the priest, laughing ... a slightly apologetic look on his face. "... just got my credit card bill."

     “All work when performed honestly, is a tribute to God. The school janitor who works alone at night leaving the children and teachers a clean, healthy environment in which to learn, honors his money and his money honors him. He is more worthy than the businessman who lies and steals ... who uses a fountain pen instead of a gun and a mask to rob his victims. That man profanes his money … he sins against it and against God.”

     “So, you're saying work is a prayer,” asks Doc.

     "Laborare et orare ... to work is to pray ... the motto of the monks out at St. Ed's if I'm right, Bob?" says Reverend Williams, breaking in.

     “Right, Martin ... all our actions, where value is given for value, are a form of prayer. We go to Sam’s in the morning for coffee. Sam in turn pays Doc to keep her little Emily healthy. Doc purchases a pair of earrings from Joey for his wife for their anniversary. Joey pays Walt Robinson to build a deck on his house. And Walt pays Sam to make the pastries and cake for his daughter Camryn's sweet sixteen party. All give value for value. All trade their God given talents and abilities for the value of the other. Life well lived, understanding the proper relationship of men to each other and to their Creator, is a prayer.

     Father Bob pauses a moment, again looking at the coins in his hand.

     "The coins in my pocket and the pieces of paper in my wallet are my congregation’s statement of the value they put on my effort and my work. To my way of thinking my work's as much a prayer as any other and that makes my money sacred."

     John Randall shakes his head, a look of mock horror on his face.  

     "Oh no ... it's contagious," he says.

     “Keep at it Martin … though you’ve got a ways to go to catch up with the master here,” laughs Doc, nodding at Father Bob.

     And from the back of the group the familiar voice of St. Katie’s pastor is heard …

     “… Rookie …”

     Money doesn’t corrupt a man … a man corrupts his money.

     The love of money is the root of all evil … words too often misunderstood or used out of context. Money is that tangible, objective value society places on one’s work ... one's talents and abilities. And those talents and abilities are a reflection of the very nature of the creative and productive God in whose image we are made.  Understood correctly, money is sacred.

     Shouldn’t we …