FATHER FRANK’S RANTS - Church of the Poor

Rant Number 530     13 March 2013

‘Jesus was a socialist’ my father used to say. Dear, dear dad! Your heart sure was in the right place!

Yesterday Colourful Radio’s valiant presenter, Henry Bonsu, rang me up. He wanted the priest’s opinion on Archbishop Welby’s criticism of the Government’s welfare reforms. An attack on the poor?

Tory Secretary Duncan-Smith, a Roman Catholic, counterattacked. There is nothing moral about consigning families to life on benefits, he averred. Predictably, Welby chickened out. He revealed he himself was once on benefit and praised Duncan-Smith for being ‘brave’ - usual Episcopal cop-out, groan....

Christ, I don’t think, was ever on benefit. Still, it is pertinent to ask: was he poor? No idle question. Because, if Christ was poor, shouldn’t the Christian Church imitate her founder? Not just be on the side of the poor but be herself poor. Drop investments, sell all stocks and shares, as well as the historical buildings, the real estate, lands and give the proceeds to the poor?

Hhhmmm... does it make sense to speak of Christ’s poverty? The carpenter’s son might have inherited a few tools from his foster father’s workshop but, by the time he began his public ministry, about 30, the Gospels are deafeningly silent about his possessions. Perhaps it didn’t matter to the Good News, anymore than Buddha’s sandals and begging bowl mattered to the pursuit of Nirvana. But a popular Jewish teacher had followers, men and women. They must have provided for the Messiah’s daily needs, indeed as they should. Hence Jesus was no indigent pauper.

The Gospel meaning of ‘poor’ is not restricted to the material realm. The poor were also the pious. The devout. Those who followed the law of the Lord. Yet, totally to spiritualise poverty is wrong. St Luke’s parable of poor Lazarus and the rich man says nothing about Lazarus’ piety. He is just wretchedly, heartbreakingly poor. Yes, he is Heaven-bound, which implies that he was also devout, but the thrust of the story is the contrast between Lazarus’ poverty and the rich man’s indifference. Lazarus is blessed whilst the wealthy, selfish bloke burns in hell. Says it all, no?

Once upon a time controversy raged over Jesus’ poverty. Proud medieval prelates like Cardinal Wolsey, England’s last priest-statesman, embodied the colossal wealth of that worldly Church – he was scandalously almost as rich as the King himself. Earlier the wonderful holy fool, St Francis of Assisi, had affirmed a higher, bracing ideal. Embracing holy poverty, his friars forsook property, not just individually but collectively. They were commanded to work, living with and like the poorest peasants. If need be, friars could beg for their food but never permitted to accept money. It wasn’t long-lasting. After Francis’ death Franciscans split up over the poverty issue. The notion that Christ was poor was declared a heresy...sigh...

Yet, Christ’s utterances on poverty still haunt his unworthy followers. ‘If you would be perfect, go, sell you have and you will have treasure in Heaven and come, follow me!’ Thus Jesus in St Matthew’s Gospel. If that was the advice he gave long ago to a would-be disciple, should it not a fortiori apply to his church? Shouldn’t the church, Christ’s mystical bride, try and be perfect? Shouldn’t she then take the master’s injunction seriously? Even literally? Be poor?

Perhaps. But, as my dad knew, socialism is not poverty. Socialist ideas aim at improving the lot of the underprivileged, not at making everybody indigent. And Franciscan poverty is like the other monastic vows, chastity and obedience: OK if freely and joyfully chosen. People freezing in this arctic weather because they can’t afford to switch on central heating don’t choose to be like that. Besides, St Paul was not wishy-washy on the workshy: ‘If a man will not work, let him not eat.’ (II Thessalonians 3:10) Guess Duncan-Smith is all agog...

The Church, however, has no choice. It must speak out for the vulnerable and the exploited. It must be a church for the poor. Despite all their stupidity and feebleness, Welby the Wimp and his fellow Anglican bishops are right on this. Because a religion that did not care for the poor would not be Christianity. It would be like devil-worship.

The Church for the poor must also be a servant church. Serving not just in the slums of Calcutta and Chota Nagpur but in London’s council estates of Hounslow and Peckham. As well as in posh places like Kensington and Chelsea. (Don’t the rich need salvation, too?) A church purified from greed, perversion and laziness. A church witnessing in schools, hospitals, workplaces and the crowded streets. A church not ashamed to name the name of the Deliverer, the Christ crucified and glorified, the Christ present in those whom they serve.

As I write this, the world’s eyes are focussed on the Conclave in Rome – the priest’s own birthplace. A new Pope soon will emerge. Great expectations are in the air. Renewal for the worldwide church, purification, a God-driven impetus to spread the Gospel, to reconvert paganised Europe, to give fresh guidance and hope to a disoriented, drifting youth disillusioned with free market capitalism, privatisation, materialism and Eros – the false gods of our sad culture.

The new Pontiff...could it be another Gregory? St Gregory the Great (540-604 AD), whose feast falls today. Son of a senator, prefect of Rome, he sold his vast properties to relieve the poor. After years of chosen austerity as monk, he was ambassador to Constantinople. Later he became Pope. Italy was devastated by floods, famine, pestilence and barbarians. Throughout he was firm, humble and scholarly. A bishop should above all be a shepherd of souls, he wrote. And he was friendly with the Jews...

A story told by the Venerable Bede has St Gregory sending St Augustine to convert the heathen Anglo-Saxons in 587. In Canterbury the saint baptized King Ethelbert. The barbarous English were thus brought from darkness into light. As the English have now sunk back into idol-worship, maybe the next Pope should dispatch another Augustine to do it again, insh’allah!

Revd Frank Julian Gelli