“Bring me the treasures of the Church.”
The year was 258. The pope had been killed a few days before in one of the series of persecutions in the early centuries of Christianity, this time under Emperor Valerian. The young man who acted as the steward of the goods donated to the Church for its mission was offered his life and freedom if the gold, silver and other riches were handed over to the Empire. He replied, “Give me three days and I will present them to you.”
You know the rest of the story of St. Lawrence the Deacon: gathering the poor, sick and troubled of Rome, he presented them before the Emperor: “Here are the treasures of the Church.”
Was it an act of ironic defiance or a deep theological insight into the Gospel? Maybe some of both. But Valerian, already inflamed with anger at the Christians, reacted predictably and ordered Lawrence killed, but slowly and cruelly by burning. Eyewitnesses handed on the story that Lawrence’s wit endured to the end as told his executioners: “I’m done on this side, turn me over.”
Writing about 200 years later, the first Pope Leo (the Great) said of him, “The flames could not overcome the charity of Christ; and the fire burning him without was weaker than the one he had burning within him.” St. Lawrence was a prudent steward, for he recognized where true riches are found, in the people under his care, even at the greatest personal cost.
The Guiding Principle of the All Things New planning process is Prudent Stewardship: “we use our resources to achieve our shared mission in a healthy and responsible way.”
In his classic 1959 study, “The Four Cardinal Virtues,” German philosopher Josef Pieper presents St. Thomas Aquinas’ teaching on prudence, justice, fortitude and temperance. From that vast and thorough exploration, two points about prudence stand out as we plan.
First, Pieper notes that prudence often carries the connotation of cautious, timid, hesitant decisions; prudent choices are thought of as “safe” ones. Sometimes it is so, and prudence must always be realistic about possibilities. But prudence may also counsel boldness, accepting some risk of loss as the way to achieve a greater good. Prudence may choose to sacrifice something good for love of something better. Every parent knows this and lives it daily.
Second, Aquinas (following Aristotle) defines prudence as “right reason about things to be done.” This is analogous to the definition of art: right reason about things to be made. A sculpture or painting or poem or chant displays proportion, elegance and beauty that inspires with insight into the transcendent. So, too, a good decision that is just, wise and loving inspires hope for today and tomorrow, rooted in unchanging goods and reliable truths.
Prudence stands at the intersection of those stable foundations of eternity and the constantly fluid realities of time and history.
Pieper emphasizes that prudence requires an objective, unbiased grasp of both the current circumstances and the goods we seek to foster. The resources we have – like the material riches given to Lawrence’s stewardship – are not ends in themselves. They are tools for a task, tangible goods to be used for a higher spiritual good, the building up of the Body of Christ.
Pieper would affirm that our current reality reflects some patterns of decline and scarcity: fewer priests, less participation in the sacraments and the ministries of the Church, tight finances and deficit budgets. While true, he would remind us that such scarcity is overshadowed by abundance. Prudence counsels us to look to the future of the Church in a way different than business or politics or economics might, simply realigning the inventory and workforce. Though we can more readily see the visible than the invisible, the Creed reminds us God is Creator of both, and both are entrusted to our stewardship.
What have I seen of that abundance even in recent days? The couple that prays the rosary together every single night for decades. The faithful who come, even into their 90s, to daily Mass. The growth from nothing at all to a robust young adult ministry. The doctors and nurses and social workers who care for a teen with multiple physical and emotional barriers with compassion and courage. The neighbors who bring food, presence and even tears to a family suffering profound loss. The small needed tasks and favors discreetly done, often unrecognized, for both friend and stranger. Difficult conversations that heal long-standing tensions with forgiveness and new understanding.
All of this (and infinitely more) happens, every day, in the Body of Christ. St. Paul assures us: “God is able to make every grace abundant for you, so that in all things, always having all you need, you may have an abundance for every good work” (2 Corinthians 9:8). As the Church prays at Advent, standing on the threshold of hopes about to be fulfilled in an unimagined way: “Even now, as we walk amid passing things, you teach us by them to love the things of heaven and hold fast to what endures.”
“Bring me the treasures of the Church.” When spoken in anger and greed by Valerian, they are a demand to surrender the things of God to worldly ends. But if we can hear them spoken with love and Lordship by Jesus, we entrust all to the compassion and wisdom of God, who promises a future full of hope.