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[Back to index of March articles] Finishing a year of fiscal thinking By Bowie Snodgrass I sit down to write these confes$ion$ feeling fiscally mellow, following a self-imposed year of financial thinking, and out of the conviction that discussing our personal finances (a last taboo?) is a spiritual act. Jesus discussed economics more than any other social subject. Talking about our money, or lack thereof, in religious spaces may be, as my friend Dana says, the only antidote to the emotions most of us feel regarding money - fear, resentment, failure, imprisonment, anger and isolation. We can exorcise those demons by the simple act of sharing our own financial stories and situations. Only then can we move on to the work of oikonomia (ancient Greek for "getting your house in order"). These themes were on the agenda for a one-day 20s/30s retreat Dana helped me plan last October called "Your Faith, Future and Finances," held at the Cathedral of St. John the Divine, complete with Bible study, walking meditation, an instructional Eucharist and one-on-one financial consultations. In our opening discussion, debt and the true "value" of education were hot topics for many (bringing some to tears), along with "manna" jobs (tasteless employment that provides only enough for sustenance), being the first financially independent woman in one's family, and knowing friends who did sex work to pay for school. We asked everyone to "share a Bible story that guides how you think about money in your life." People brought up the parable of the sower and of the talents (our stewardship of God's gifts), the lilies of the field and widow's mite (put your trust in God), the prodigal son and year of jubilee (amazing grace trumping the almighty dollar), and Jesus' teaching that we can't serve both God and money. These economic stories illustrate some of the Bible's most important lessons, inspiring and challenging us to find new frameworks to understand old fears. In my year of financial thinking, I realized how many frames of reference I already had: Living in inner-city rectories until I was 9; becoming conscious of race right alongside class; my mom telling me that being middle class meant you can do or have anything, just not everything; agreeing with a college friend that money is for spending, not saving; reading Weber's Protestant Work Ethic in seminary and thinking I'm fiscally Catholic; a work supervisor explaining the "good, fast, cheap" triangle (pick two, 'cause you can't have all three). My year of financial thinking was precipitated more than anything by a desire to live within my means. I suddenly had no excuse not to try. After a post-graduate school period of couch surfing and substitute teaching, I started freelancing and finally moved into an apartment in Harlem. This transition required loans from both parents and my first credit card. By February 2005, I had a fine salaried job but hadn't yet managed to pay off those moving debts. This became Goal One. Goals two and three were "save" and "be generous." My "means" were my paychecks, which needed to be enough. I accomplished Goal One in December, when I paid off my parents and my credit card balances, minus student loans that I'll be paying for the next 18 years. I've been building up to Goal Two, setting up transfers from each paycheck directly into my savings account. I started at $50, moved to $100 by the fall, and just switched to $200 this month. I haven't saved much so far, but have been using my savings for costs I might have charged. And I've been developing the habit of saving. I've cut some big "chunk" expenses, like hair color, but still hold on to the belief that money spent on travel and good food is never missed later, particularly when trips mean seeing family or friends and meals are shared. My third goal of "giving" includes pledging to my congregation, giving to subway buskers who brighten my day with their art, picking up the tab for friends when they've had a rough day and donating to good causes. Generosity, as much as I can fund it, is fundamental to how I want to live. It's one way we come closer to living up to Jesus' economic standards - and it feels good to give. Money stress is a low-burning hell, undermining our sense of personal security and isolating us socially. Confessions can exorcise our economic demons so that God can be our treasurer and we might live in love and peace. E-mail bowiesnodgrass@gmail.com with your comments or to request copies of the materials for the "Faith, Future, and Finances" retreat. [Back to index of March articles]
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