THREE ANGELS PUBLISHING

RESPECT FOR MONEY     

"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.

A sheepish smile crosses the priest’s face.

“Laugh if you want, but when you’re living in a box under an overpass out on the interstate, I’ll be warm and toasty in my retirement villa …”

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, ‘Hammer’, “Mike the Russian,” "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 mocking look of 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 moil … 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.

“Ah 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.”

A skeptical look crosses Doc’s face. “Sacred?” he says.

“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 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 to have a great respect for money and what it represented. He made a profit from his labors and an honest profit is an honorable and virtuous achievement.”

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

You see, 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, 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 cheats and steals under the guise of professional services rendered. 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 Benedictines Monks out at St. Ed's if I'm 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 and patronize her bistro. 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. And Joey pays Walt Robinson to build a deck on his house. 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.

One can only believe that Jesus Christ, a builder in every sense of the word, understood and appreciated the true meaning of money. 

Shouldn’t we …

“Hey … good morning Marilyn, how’s Mike?”

The bell over the shop's door tinkles as Marilyn Rust closes it behind her.

“Good, Joey ... he's sleeping ... it's raining so I thought I’d let him catch up on his rest. He’s been pushing himself lately … business is off ... things are a bit slow at the club and he's been putting in a lot of extra hours. How about you?”

“Ah … I’m holding my own. Things have slowed down but still I’m fairly busy.

“Have you finished my bracelet?”

“…got it right here.”

Reaching into his box of completed repairs, Joey retrieves a gold medic alert bracelet and hands it to Marilyn.

“Ah, just like new … what do I owe you?”

“Nothing …  just adjusted the tension in the clasp … gave it a quick buff ...  all it needed.”

“You’re sure I don’t owe you anything."

“No … it was simple ... only took a couple minutes."

"Thanks ... that's nice of you.  By the way, what are you working on?”

“A tanzanite pendant … a custom job for Christmas.”

“Tanzanite, what’s that?"

A wry smile crosses Joey’s face.

“A whisper … from God….”



Hi, I’m Tony Baggz.  It’s morning here in Joey’s jewelry shop. "Mike the Russian"'s wife, Marilyn just walked in. Seems she's the first customer of the day. It’s a couple of months before Christmas and Joey is working on this year’s Christmas offerings. His work is known throughout the city and everyone who appreciates fine jewelry has to stop by and see what the master has come up with for the holiday season.  Heck, even people who never buy jewelry can’t resist stopping by for a peek … and for the proprietor’s unique perspective on the things he sells. Joey has a penchant for finding the meaning behind the glitter.

Walking around behind his desk he picks up a small folded paper. Setting it on the counter, he opens it and produces a beautiful royal blue stone. It’s teardrop shaped and about the size of a quarter.  Looking at the gem, Marilyn’s eyes light up. I think it has definitely caught her fancy. And from the question in her eyes, I can see she wants to know more.  

Let’s listen in…


“So that’s a tanzanite.  You know, I’ve seen it in the mall but I've never paid it much attention.  What they call tanzanite there is light lilac or pale blue ... nothing special. But this ... this is really impressive ... I’ve never seen anything like this.”

“Well, there are different grades and it does come in pale shades like the ones you saw … but this,” Joey says, gesturing toward the gem “…well, this is as good as it gets.”

“It’s beautiful ... why haven't I seen it before?”

“Well, first, in shades of royal blue this deep it's quite expensive ... probably out of the reach of much of the buying public. Second, it’s a 'soft' gemstone ... for a long time it was more of a collector’s stone so it wasn't actively pursued by gemstone miners. You see, it only comes from one place in Africa so it's somewhat rare, and given the lack of demand for anything other than blue sapphires, there just wasn't a good reason to go looking for it."
 
"Makes sense," Marilyn says, nodding in agreement.

"And, for centuries sapphire was the only deep blue gem that the public was aware of.  It took Tiffany’s in New York to popularize it back in the 70’s so it’s only been around for about forty years or so.”

“Why only forty years?  If things like amethyst and ruby and sapphire and the others have been around for centuries, you'd think something this beautiful would have been around for that long too."

"Well, probably the main reason is that when it comes out of the ground, it’s a rather unappealing brown color … kinda like smoky quartz … something only worth a buck or two a carat."

Marilyn rotates the gem in the morning light. You can see by the look in her eyes she is captivated by the gem.

"So why did they finally decide to promote it?"

“Well, obviously because its beautiful.  And, as fine sapphires increased in price the jewelry trade looked for an alternative. When it was first brought to the public's attention, those who bought and sold it understood that it was to be worn gently because it's a 'soft' gemstone ... as many collector's gemstones are.  Even now I generally only put it in earrings and pendants ... like the one I’m making.  It doesn’t wear all that well in a ring … unless you treat it very very gently.”

“So how does it get to be this color if it’s naturally brown?”
 
“It has to be heated for a sustained period of time for the color to change to the beautiful deep blue you see.”

“So ... the 'whisper from God' ... where does that come from?”

Joey chuckles softly. "You know me too well, Marilyn," he says, a playful smile crossing his face.
 
Stepping beside Marilyn, he gestures to the gem in her hand.

“Think of it Marilyn.  How is this gemstone all that much different from people themselves?”

“… you tell me …,” Marilyn says, the inquisitive look in her eyes intensifying.

“Well, most gemstones when they come from the ground aren’t all that impressive. They don't look anything like what you see in a the finished product. Especially gems like diamonds,  tanzanites, aquamarines, rubies, and sapphires. You see, they're kinda like people."

“Interesting … and that's the whisper from God?”

“Precisely ... a gem like this is a silent witness to an eternal truth."

"An eternal truth...?"

"That God rarely produces a finished product."

"How do you mean ...?"

"Well, in their natural state, precious gemstones sometimes come out of the ground in nicely formed crystals, but more often they are just fragments or white or colored pebbles needing to be heated, cut or faceted ... waiting for their beauty to be brought out … to be completed … finished." 

“And you’re saying that just like the change in this stone from an ugly brown to a beautiful blue cannot happen without effort, neither can we become what we are intended to be without an effort on our part.  And that’s something that God had in mind from the beginning of time.”

“Right. And how many people are afraid of the heat and the fire of life ... it's trials and challenges.  And because of that fear they fail to live up to their potential and bring out the beauty within."

Again, Marilyn pauses to admire the beauty of the gem as Joey continues his thought.

“And not only ourselves, but other’s too.” 

“Others … how so?”

“Well, take children. Left to their own devices most kids would just coast ... content to put in a minimum of effort, right?”

“Ugh ... right,” Marilyn says, rolling her eyes.  “… like Bobby. It was like pulling teeth to get him to do his school work … or his chores.”

Chuckling, Joey shakes his head. Bobby is Marilyn's oldest boy and he's known their kids since they were little.

“Exactly. Holding people accountable and inspiring them push themselves to be the best they can … that’s what I’m talking about. Too many people today don’t recognize that … they shirk their responsibility in the name of 'giving others their space,' 'minding their own business,' 'letting them find their own way' … or some such nonsense.”

Looking again at the gemstone in her hand, Marilyn smiles. 

“You make a pretty persuasive point, Joey. Then again, you always do.”

Joey laughs softly to himself.

“And one other thought … how disappointed would the Creator be if man didn’t complete the beauty of this gem … didn’t finish what God Himself started and just settled for leaving it an uninspiring brown stone…?”

“… and the Creator is just as disappointed if we do the same thing?” Marilyn asks, finishing Joey’s thought.

“Exactly.”

Handing the gemstone back to Joey, Marilyn laughs softly, a sparkle in her eye.

“You know Joey; I was wondering what to put in my letter to Santa this year.  Now … I think I know …”

Joey chuckles as a impish smile crosses his face.

“…Won’t Mike be surprised …”



God loves the matter of His creation and He speaks to us in the silent witness of creation. Jesus certainly did. He used water, wine, bread, fish, mud, stone, sand, grain, fruit, and finally the wood of a cross to accomplish all He came to do.

Like a fine gemstone, man is born incomplete; designed to be finished by the heat and pressure of the trials and challenges of life. Question is; how many of us fail to do so? How many of us are content to remain as we are, or worse, as others expect us to be. How many of us are unwilling to expose ourselves to the fires of life that refine us and bring out our inner beauty … a beauty God intended from the beginning of time.  

Society often shouts at us in a myriad of ways that if we don’t measure up to its expectations, if we don’t adopt its moral code and walk in lockstep with its dictates, shouting hosanna to what it deems to be beautiful and valuable, then we are merely ordinary ... unattractive ... of little worth. And unless we dance to her siren song we are relegated to the margin.

Yet God speaks silently, or maybe gently, to us through his creation, telling us that like the beauty of nature we have tremendous beauty within. Why … because each of us is made in His image and likeness. An image we must bring out … a likeness we must finish.

….Who are you going to listen to...?

“If you are lukewarm, I will vomit you out of my mouth.” Do these words speak, not so much to a halfhearted resignation to live a halfhearted existence …

… but rather an unwillingness to become the jewel God intended us to be?

… Thinkaboutit … I’m Tony Baggz.