Jesus said, “Do you see these great buildings? Not one stone will be left here upon another; all will be thrown down.”
Those aren’t words one wants to hear right as we’re trying to shore up our church and raise the money we need to operate another year! This reading and Jesus’ prediction about the destruction of the Jerusalem temple comes as sure as the Fall, with its shorter days and colder weather. In the church, it signals the shift from the long season of Pentecost to--starting in just 2 weeks--Advent, and then Christmas. It also comes just as we’re trying to take care of our buildings, pay our staff, invest for another year in the present and future of our church through the contributions and commitments of our members. At St. James we call this the Annual Appeal.
I guess this points to the paradox in life where We know that everything, certainly ourselves, but everything else (even the grandest structures, everything) is impermanent. Everything eventually flattens out to a geological stripe on the fossil record. And yet, and yet, we’re called for our brief time here to act as if things were going to last. To take care of our health, and our bodies. To take care of our churches, our institutions. Our earth. For us, this is all we have.
Religion endures as it does partly because of its insistence on our passionate engagement with the world even as we know that nothing on this earth lasts forever. That’s a hard thing to hold in tension. It’s the hard things, that draw us, to faith.
Here at St. James, we should be confident in this place for a long time to come, as long as we stay diligent about the work it takes for a church to survive and prosper, in the present and future, both. When I was at seminary we weren’t told what fragile institutions we would inherit, maybe we didn’t really get that yet. At annual appeal time we thought we could just stand up here and say, It’s time to pledge again! And people would.
Decades ago it was more like that. Today, It’s vital that we explain how things run, and that we make it clear how much our church depends on your generosity.
So for the rest of this sermon, I’m going to talk about what many of you here have heard before, some of you here have never heard. Most of you, probably, have heard but could stand to hear again. Our budget! I can’t say this often enough, but we are an Episcopal Church. We have bishops, and a diocese, but we are run and financed from the ground up. We’re supported primarily through pledges--the advanced and reliable contributions of the people who attend church. Secondarily through rental income such as that from our Nursery School, and our investment income from our endowment (which, at a 6% draw, gives us about one quarter of our income). We pay money TO the diocese.
So let me say this plainly: there’s nothing but us. If you’re not someone who gives financially--and oftentimes people ease into church life and into making a financial commitment, especially the newer among us, that’s to be expected; but if you’re not giving financially right now, then someone around you is contributing for what you’re partaking in.
That’s what we do for each other.
It feels so much better to be invested in what you believe in. We’re aiming for 150 giving individuals and families. If everyone receiving the materials for our appeal responded with a pledge, we’d exceed that. We’ve never reached 150 (in our recent history). We’re going to try really hard to convince everybody this year to support St. James. If we’re successful in that, we’ll reach our participation goal easily. Please don’t think you don’t matter.
So our income is: pledges, primarily, then rent, then endowment draw.
On the expense side, we have three main areas our pledges go to: our staff, our infrastructure, and the diocese.
The biggest of those is staff. We have three full-time staff members--me, Victoria the Organist, and Carol in the office. We have four part-time staff: Mother Eliza, George our weekday custodian, and our two Sunday-only assistants, Jose and Carlos. (The Nursery School, its director and teachers, all of whom are also an indispensable part of what we do here at St. James, are under a totally separate budget funded through tuition payments, so I’ll just be talking here about the church staff, acknowledging, however, all they bring to our campus and community.)
Of the church’s staff, the rector is the most visible, and also the biggest staff investment. Last year the vestry voted to bring my salary in line with that of my Episcopal peers with the same years of experience and same responsibilities (this took my compensation from 70-90,000). That was good for us as a church to do. Of course good for my family, too. It didn’t cost us as a church any more, but we had to move Mo. Eliza to a smaller stipendiary role (I’ll say more about that in a moment).
But the way our church is governed--and this is set out by NY state law as well as canon law--the role of the rector is vital. I oversee all the daily operations, staffing, finances, outreach, pastoral care, fundraising, worship. I don’t carry out all those things, thankfully, but the rector is essential to holding it all together and setting priorities.
Having a second priest has been a gift. Mother Eliza came to us from the diocese with a generous grant from them that paid half her salary for two years—that was for 2022 and 2023. Since that grant ended, we’ve had to reduce her to a stipendiary position, part-time and without benefits or pension. I’m grateful she’s agreed to stay on these terms, and I hope one day we can really look at and invest more in this role.
Victoria, whose position, like mine, is full-time, came to us last spring after Matthew Lewis took another position. I couldn’t be happier with what she’s brought to our music program and parish life. If you haven’t gotten to know her, she is warm, and welcoming, and so much fun. Plus she’s an amazing musician.
I don’t think I need to convince you of the worth of her or her position. We’re an Episcopal Church, and Sunday morning worship is the glue that holds us together. But still, I’d like to share with you two moments that made me especially proud of what she’s brought to our congregation. The first was at our Halloween party, when she was only here to do her spooky concert and then leave. Two hours later, she and her husband Ian (also a musician) were still at the organ where kids had been lining up to play it--pounding the pedals with their little feet, pulling out the stops, and having a great time (under her supervision!). That’s what we want to be: professional but not precious. Always putting first the people we serve.
The other memory was early on in her time here, when the choir sang Bobby McFerrin’s setting of Psalm 23, which he wrote in memory of his mother. You might remember it--it uses all female pronouns for God. Victoria asked if that’d be OK, and I said, Let’s find out! (I’ve never heard so much positive feedback after a service.) She’s nurturing us, challenging us, making our worship engaging and exciting.
But for our purposes here, We pay “the going rate” for a full-time organist in Westchester. To get someone like her, and to have consistently good, and welcoming Sunday worship, which is the heart of our Episcopal tradition, we need to make sure we’re getting as many people to pledge as hear this music on those Sundays.
And then there’s Carol, holding it all together in the office as our Director of Finance and Operations. Hers is also a full-time position. Four years ago there were three full-time people doing the work she does. We’ve had to let some things go, and it’s been hard. If we can grow our pledge base and our pledges, I’d bring back more office and administrative support, which we need. For now, Carol manages all the finances and the operations of our buildings, grounds and three houses, and she helps organize the three other part-time workers: our cleaner George, Jose, and Carlos.
Again, staff is what over 50% of our pledges go towards. Your generosity supports the work we do, our families, and the lives we live, and we’re thankful for that. In return, I hope you can see we’re doing all we can to make our church thrive and to be the place that makes you want to come back, week after week.
A smaller but still sizable portion of your pledge goes to our infrastructure: heating, cooling, and maintaining our buildings and grounds, covering the insurance on our buildings, and the costs of running the office. We try to do this in a way that’s as affordable as it can be without (at the same time) underinvesting and leaving people later on with headaches that we didn’t take care of.
The last thing our financial gifts go towards is our diocese--over 15% of what you give goes up the chain to support the diocese. There’ve been mixed feelings about that over the years and in every church I’ve been in. I want to say two things about that: the first is, we’ve brought that number down with better management of our finances and also by lowering our budget overall through more efficient staffing. But we also have a new bishop, and he’s aware the revenue model of the diocese puts too much of a burden on churches like ours. He talks about that, he’s serious about addressing it.
Even as he comes up with a new model, though, I feel better than I have in years about having to send the money to the diocese. Bishop Matt is reducing the number of diocesan staff and bishops, so he can allocate more resources to parishes. He’s also working diligently, at a pace and level that a lot of us rectors recognize, and appreciate seeing in our leadership. We’re seeing the results.
And you know, belonging to the Episcopal Church is so incredible. Like many of you, I’m a convert to this tradition. I believe strongly in its tradition, its inclusivity, its diversity, its global reach. Our stances on issues aren’t for everyone. But for those of us who’ve been in traditions that are closed-minded, discriminatory, uncomfortable with questions, and just not loving and kind--the Episcopal Church can feel like the only place left we can call our spiritual home.
I’m thankful for it and I think we should all be glad that a portion of what we give goes up the chain. Where it also makes a greater impact in terms of charities and social services than is possible for us to do on the local level.
I’ve gone on a little longer than usual. If you don’t want this to keep happening, I guess you’ll have to make your pledge :)
But to return to where we began, We hold in tension our understanding that nothing lasts forever, and yet we must be fully committed and passionate about those things we care about. For those of us who are Christians, the Church is that. St. James the Less, is that. We can’t assume it’ll always be here. It has lasted these 175 years because Every year, people commit to give. The more generous you can be, the better off we’ll be as a community, now, and in the future. Thank you.