Through the years, I have placed my offerings in hats, buckets, wicker baskets, china bowls, styrofoam cups, and paper bags.
I've seen five gallon water jugs fill with coins to support youth group trips.
It seems clear that if you give people opportunity to make an offering, they
will. Something yearns within us until we share from our bounty.
As a child on a fishing vacation in Quebec, we attended a French speaking
Catholic church on a Sunday morning. I couldn't understand the lessons nor
the sermon spoken in French; nor could I understand the liturgy sung in Latin.
But I did understand when the usher came around with what looked like my dad's
landing net. He inserted that pole into our row, and passed the pouch on the
end of it to each one the row's occupants. We may not have understood
anything else in the service, but we understood the offering.
At one mass worship service I attended, the offering was collected in Kentucky
Fried Chicken buckets. There's something strange about having Colonel Sanders
smiling approvingly at you as you drop your money into the bucket. But then,
maybe that's not such a bad idea. Perhaps it would be good to have a smiling
Jesus on the side of our offering plates...or smiling children...or smiling
hungry people...or thankful senior citizens.
In the old testament people felt the urge to make offerings too. They made
offerings for a variety of reasons. Some felt guilty, and the offering helped
ease their conscience. Some wished to honor another person, and they gave an
offering to God in tribute to the person. Some gave an offering as they asked
for God's favor.
But mostly, they made offerings out of thanksgiving for the generosity of
their creator who gave them all that they had. God created their world. God
created them with all of their talents and abilities. They offered their
"first fruits" as a sign that the first and the best of what they had belonged
to God.
In the New Testament, Jesus admired the widow who felt the urge to give to the
poor even though she herself was nearly penniless. And since there was an
offering box for the poor outside the temple, this widow who felt blessed in
spite of her lack of funds dropped in her two coins, all that she had.
Even children understand the offering plates. They love to bring their
offering and have the privilege of putting their quarter in the plate as it
goes by. Sometimes Dad even lets them take hold of the plate and pass it
themselves in spite of the ever present danger of the slipped plate dropping
and banging to the floor and coins rolling to who knows where under the pew.
But then, as I have observed, even sure handed ushers occasionally lose
their grip on the full plate!
The offering plates aren't just about money. They are about a deep seated
need within us to acknowledge the one who made us out of nothing. Whether the
offering receptacles are made of fine polished brass or a cardboard chicken
holder, we will use whatever is at hand to offer up a portion of what has been
given to us.
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