Dear Friends,

I’ve been opening your emails to me all morning, and many of them are about money. About my decision, based on our budget shortfall, to reduce my hours to 60 percent. About our fundraising appeals. About your own financial circumstances.

Some of you are annoyed or angry at our appeals. Some feel apologetic because your own circumstances leave you unable to give right now. Some voice overwhelm at the requests bombarding from many organizations and every direction, each more urgent than the last. Some are angry that I, as the minister, am asking for money too often. Some offer me love as I reduce my hours. Some question precisely how we spend our money. Some share that they have been moved to give more.

Ah, money. What a source of blessing and curse. Joseph Campbell says that money is a form of highly concentrated energy. In this time when that concentration is getting more and more skewed, at least in the United States—I read recently that the richest 3 INDIVIDUALS in the U.S. have as much wealth as the poorest 50% of all people—many people are feeling squeezed.

I responded to most people who emailed that I feel that squeeze, too. I’d love to be able to give to everyone who asks me—for personal help in a hard time, for organizational support to do important work—and I can’t. Here’s what I try to do, and perhaps it will help you, too: I bless the money I give, and I also bless the requests I cannot fund even though I wish I could. I have a monthly budget for how much I give away (10% of income now that I’m down to 60%; it used to be more!) and I stick to it. When I give a bit of that to someone, no matter how small or how large, I take a moment to offer up gratitude that I’m able to do it, and to imagine the money helping whatever person or cause I’m giving it to. When I need to decline an offer that I wish I could meet, I also offer a silent blessing to the person or cause. I know, a blessing won’t keep someone from foreclosure or defeat an oppressive bill in Congress. But offering my support feels critical and important nonetheless.

I remember years ago, I was trying to raise money to help out someone in dire trouble. I asked a number of colleagues at a meeting. Many of them turned away and couldn’t even listen to my ask. One, the CLF Minister Emerita, Rev. Jane Rzepka, gave the ask her full attention and affirmed the real need, before she, like the others, said that she did not have resources to offer. I remember how affirmed I felt, despite her inability to contribute, because she listened and did not turn away. In essence, she blessed the need and the ask. Since then, I have attempted to do the same thing—to not turn away learning about the need simply because I cannot meet it. How about you? How do you live with needs that you cannot meet?