Money Metaphysical Musings

I love the story, one of the few found in all four Gospels. Jesus feeds 5000 people with five loaves of bread and two fish. I think about it, especially in the light of how a few pieces of food exploded into overflowing baskets .

The scene is set. Thousands of people lounge on the hillside, hungry to hear Jesus’ words of wisdom. For hours, He gives truthful guidance. They’re starved for truth, for the deepest meaning of what it really means to follow God. Jesus has answers.

Then I see Jesus sitting down to think. He must have been exhausted by then. Preaching can be, to put it mildly, tiring. He tells his disciples: “the people here are hungry. I am too! What food do we have?” By that time, I would have been starving.

Remember, we’re looking for a miracle here.

Next, holding the five loaves and two fishes, Jesus utters the most beautiful of prayers: “Thank you, Father.” He blesses them and they are consecrated.

Now, Jesus shares. He doles out the food and it seems to never stop. MORE and MORE food on the way. He smiles, in fact he laughs with it all. He feels the deep joy of giving. And all the people laugh too. They see something wonderful going on.

Sure, Jesus had a crowd in front of him to feed, but don’t we always have someone within our sight who can use an extra bill or two, a meal or a school tuition paid for a student who can’t afford it? The generous soul knows how to see, how to size up a situation and respond.

Finally, Jesus hears a child shouting. “I’m full!” Probably Jesus feels full Himself. So He toasts his disciples, then directs them: “Okay, collect the left overs. We can send them over to the next town.” The men collect and continue to collect. Is there no end, they ask themselves? The baskets are stuffed. Everyone is shocked. A tiny meal became a banquet with everything given.

This story reminds me of a close personal friend who calls herself a Distribution Center. Her faith loves this miracle and she is strengthened by her constant giving from her Center. “I try to sow in love, and love returns,...usually multiplied.

Speaking of multiplication! It was in Lenedra J. Carroll’s deeply spiritual book, The Architecture of All Abundance that I read and felt deeply moved: "Though it varies from year to year, I challenge myself to disperse up to 60 percent of my income, after taxes, to benefit areas other than my own personal gain, primarily humanitarian endeavors. I am aware this constitutes a radical generosity, yet is seems my income expands so exponentially as a result of my commitment that my personal wealth continues to grow rapidly.”

In other words, five loaves and two fishes explode into basket fulls, too heavy for one person to carry, too beautiful to behold

Try it! Consider your ability to multiply your own loaves and two fishes. You could be feeding more than five thousand. You could be feeding the world.

Up From the Dumps

Listen Up! You will fall, you will make silly purchases along with the bigger ones. You will buy a house for which you are ill-suited, or invest in a stock that goes belly up just after you got it, or purchase a car that becomes an obvious lemon because you finally get that it uses too much gas in this down economy.

But, I'm convinced that all money "failures" are meant to stretch us, move us forward, out of the ordinary. I'm convinced that God uses money to reveal us to ourselves. I can't spend a penny without realizing something about myself.

In a Pause For Beauty, author Ann E. O'Shaughnessy says "I think the real heroic moment is the gray morning, .....when you wake up feeling discouraged and alone, thinking about bills and politics, and you want to pull the covers up over your head and hide from the world. But, instead, you say a kind and patient good morning to your fears, get out of bed and get back to life -- this business of trying to live a truthful, soulful life...

As a former Nun, I harbored a little booklet in my pocket called; Confidence in God. It was my Bible fighting any discouragement take over. Discouragement, it said, is the "tool of the Devil" More, I heard our reverend mother proclaim. "Have confidence. God speaks loudest in times of our darkest moments."

Kick that idiot called discouragement or failure out to the sea. Call on God as you do it! You're not going to a slow boat to China. You're going to succeed and no one, not emotional dumps, not business woes, not hurricanes or tornados will triumph. God alone holds you close. And when you think there is no hope, no love and no mercy, you are being lead into deeper mercy and love. Trust me. It happened to me and I slowly, and yes painfully, saw how my failures finally turned to joy.

Whiplash

“Marrying you and your money was like whiplash” uttered my new and loving husband one night he and I were out at dinner. I was stuffing bills into his wallet, wanting it to look as if he were paying for the meal. Over the months, I had dizzily watched a new Jim, homeless no more, awakening again to what being in a money society meant. While he pulled out the bills and laid them on the tablecloth, he smiled again: “ Actually, I’d say life with you has been nothing less than three years of whiplash. I’m still scratching my head.

I was scratching my own. What had I done to enjoy the blessings of a close partnership to this man off the street! Yes, we fought, we prayed, and we laughed at ourselves as we reworked the marriage and money contract. Somehow we endured, found friends and a therapist to push us where we wanted to go. And from all that shifting and counting and enduring, Voila! a book, Money As Sacrament, was born. What I wrote on those pages - what thoughts I shared of my confusion, is the journey of a woman who candidly faced her money demons. They are not the same demons for all, and probably evoke disbelief or even comic responses. But these revelations I could only discover in the process of writing and interviewing other women. I liked what I learned.

I encourage you to read these inspiring stories of other women who challenedged their own money demons. You’ll find yourself living in some of their stories. My prayer is that you’ll be led to change beliefs and notions that don’t work for you. And I rejoice that many of the women on my pages became my own mentors. I hope they can become yours as well without the whiplash that Jim experienced.

Sacred or Profane

I seldom walk out my front door without thinking, "Whoa, have I got my purse?" Then I'll feel the familiar tug of the shoulder strap. I'll stop a moment to rummage, checking for my wallet, my checkbook, feeling the edges of a plastic card tucked within. I don't feel right going out without a few twenties or a fifty hiding in my wallet's folds. These are the forms of money that I "need" to have with me even if I don't plan to shop. I'm not the only one. Rarely do you find a woman without cash on her, no matter how paltry the sum, "Ah, it's there; I'm safe," she thinks. We might touch the bills for reassurance. It's that comforting feel of cash, the miraculous commodity that keeps life moving -- pays the grocer, the postal clerk, tips a waitress.

But it's more than that. You don't think money can buy happiness. Maybe it can't, but it certainly seems to stand for it. Fixed in my worn wallet are limitless possibilities for nurturing myself. No longer is money a source of shame and ambiguity in my life. Nowadays, whether I drive my car, pick up a birthday present, or splurge on another orchid, I celebrate this gift we call money.

True Abundance

This is how one of my spiritual teachers described the meaning of wealth.

"When I’m alone on a starlit night, in the moon’s rays, I see an osprey descending on the tip of a telephone pole, thoughtfully to feed his chicks; I'm with that animal.

When I visit a city park, I observe giggling children at play and my heart leaps in delight at their unsupressed loudness.

I walk along the shore of the Atlantic Ocean and waves caress my feet. I can’t help but feel in my heart, a surge of infinity from that moving water. I don’t want to hold onto anything. I want to let everything go, to fly to the heavens and be free."

I resonate with his teaching. I pray for that soaring of vision that empties us of our clinging, of our need for so many possessions. That vision fills me with beauty, and wonder, as if a giant cup of God's grace is being poured all over me.

Loving What's Right Under My Nose

You know it is its very commonplace that gives money its enormous value. Like the water that we drink, money slakes our needs and is all around us. It lives in our pockets, our bank accounts and in the salaries or dividends yet to come. It is a best friend in the here and now. It is a soul's well-being.

I smile with this truth. I feel delight as I hand a bill to a florist, her flowers now in my hands, and soon to live in my friend's home. What is flowing through my hands, whether cash or card, is gift, is a sign of my communion with others. I love this gift we call money.

My Introduction as Table Topics Leader

Hello Dear Reader,

I've been a member of Toastmasters International for over a year. I belong to the Central Florida Facilitators chapter in Altamonte Springs. It's pure fun that happens in this group while we learn how better to craft our speeches.

I thought for this blog, I'd share my toastmaster introduction for my role as Table Topics Leader in this week of Thanksgiving.

"If the Catholic Church hasn't yet proclaimed a saint of Thanksiving, Adele Azar Rucquoi wants to be canonized as that Saint. Adele wakes up each morning feeling the gratitude of unbelievable blessings: the blessing of a loving husband, the blessing of loving friends, and the blessing of a new career in speaking about the beauty of money. Her aim is to lift the hearts of those who hear her, to help them lessen their financial anxieties, and to improve their relationship with their money. That's a blessing the whole world could use."

So there you have it: my public thanksgiving prayer.

Perhaps you can write your own prayer, and make sure you include the blessings that money has brought you.

Adele

No Money Talk

In my forty-seventh year, the mailman delivered a business envelope one day to my recently widowed mother. Her hands quietly tore it open and she pulled out a $12,000 check, - quarterly payment on the sale of a Kane Furniture building that my father had mortgaged before his death. She verified the numbers, walked quickly to her desk, made out the deposit slip; there was “no time to lose” she said, before getting it into the bank for additional interest. To me, twelve thousand dollars was a lot, yes, quite a lot of money.

Mom noticed my wide eyes following her. Exactly what I said to
her just then I forgot, but I do remember the strong authority behind her reply, undoubtedly a precept from God: “Honey, don’t ever talk about your money. Nobody does it. It’s nobody’s business.”

Contrary to mom’s advice, or maybe because of it, I began to look squarely at those dreaded “what if’s” regarding money talk. What would be the consequences of personal money talk? What if I did tell all, for example, tell and come clean regarding the amount of money sitting in the account I put my name to? Would friends consider me plain silly?

In our group’s talk back session, women replied: “How often do we daily catch ourselves wishing to connect particular money issues with a friend -- a purchase, a loss, a new development in our finances -- and then falling silent because of popular convention, or so-called “good manners.”

Another declared: “Look what the rule of silence about sexuality has done to past generations. Isn’t it time for money talk to come out of the closet?”

A kind of liberation catches us when we put our money fears and joys on the table. After one of our money workshops, one woman theorized: "The words and money stories spoken in our group were blessings to all of us. We helped each other."

Hey, Mom. You were so right about so many things, but sorry, not on this one.

Nuschar Allah

In this time of Thanksgiving, when we attend a table laden with the fruits of the earth and the stuffed turkey draws us together in community, everyone pauses in reverence even as we as we delight in swapping stories about all sorts of things. I give thanks both for the obvious bounty surrounding this day, but also for something greater - the very given Ordinary: the roof over our heads and the money in our pockets.

Early on, I was led to the certainty that the flow of money comes from a Divine Source, and that my best return to God for that currency was making sure to say, Thank you. More pointedly, Meister Eckardt, the twelfth century mystic taught his students: “If the only prayer you say is ‘Thank You,’ it is enough.”

My Arabic father was very sure about certain matters and the everyday back and forth flow of money was one of them. To him, all money’s blessings came from God. “You work hard, you take risks, you pray like hell and for all of it, you never forget to say thank you.” Or more to the point, I would hear him utter the Arabic phrase, Nuschar Allah at every turn: Thank you God.

Underlying my immigrant father’s sense of awe in the market place was always that simple Nuschar Allah. It was daily grace bestowed and he rarely forgot it as he stuffed precious green bills into our grocery cash register or later on, banking bigger profits from land acquisitions.

Profits in our grocery grew. Every gain sent him escalating to ever wider ownership. Soon he was expanding beyond the walls of his little store into the surrounding Florida land he loved so well, one parcel after another, even to acquiring an orange grove. Of course, Dad didn’t have a clue about how to grow oranges. To him it was a simple matter: “Florida is orange groves. We have to acquire one!”

Azar’s Market stood amid the galloping whiff of orange blossoms. It was about the size of an average convenience store, lit by white fluorescent lights and cooled by wooden ceiling fans whirling the Florida heat out the door. Orlando, in the forties was a sleepy city then, only two core department stores, surrounded by cattle ranches and crystal lakes. In these days of Orlando’s blown away commerce, I sometimes long for that forgotten old time neighborhood.

I spent much of my youth playing grocery store until, at one point, my father looked down on his nine year old daughter and saw another helpmate. Even though from behind the counter I could barely reach the cash register keys, I got my first lesson on a rainy afternoon when the playground was only puddles. “Push these keys down, hard! Listen to the bell, count out loud when you give customers change”

Soon, the money flowed through my own fingers. Pure Grown Up! I totaled patron’s loaves of bread and ice-cold coke on the counter, weighed bunches of tomatoes, and even advised them they could get two cans of black-eyed peas for the price of one. Customers smiled at this little dark-haired child pressing the right keys, and who always honored dad’s mandate: “Never let them go without saying thank you.”

In the sixties, Charles Azar sold Azar’s Market and at last viewing, it had morphed into a Vietnamese grocery where other young immigrants set themselves on the path to the American Dream that my father had pioneered so many years before. Dad retired to his kitchen, singing his Syrian songs as he prepared various ancient recipes - today’s touted health conscious offerings: tabouli, humus, stuffed grapevines leaves to name only a few. He pursued readings in his huge Arabic Christian bible at the dining room table, savoring God’s words about the abundant blessings given to old King Solomon. He continued to thank God each time a profit of some sort came to him, regularly returning a portion of that bounty to St. George’s, his local Greek Orthodox church.

When finally he lay dying in what was then called, Orange Memorial hospital, his soul was ready. He had carried the twenty-third psalm, The Lord is my Shepherd in his wallet and which now hangs framed in my own home. This Orlando pioneer completed his earthly work Every piece of Florida land he owned had been blessed. Every untethered risk he took flowed from his deep sense of faith, love and gratitude expressed by that ever blooming, Nuschar Allah.

It's a Spiritual Thing

Sitting a table in the mall’s food court, my husband Jim and I watched an oriental woman, cleaning tables. At some point, she glanced over and smiled the sweetest of smiles. Her face was that of a child, bright eyes and clear skin. I couldn’t resist, and Jim agreed. Timidly, as we never know how the beneficiary will respond, he crossed over to her hiding a bill in his palm. This bill to us is, in a sense, was just another bill, but perhaps to her, it could be the bill that might buy her week’s groceries. She smiled again, and looked over to me with yes, love in those bright eyes. Was she an angel sent by God just for us?

I struggle with that awful question: How can I use money and not be used by it? How can I give and not feel foolish after the giving. How can I know when I must give to someone less fortunate?

There are many incidents of confusion that I might relate here, but one that comes to mind was a particular incident that happened about 9:00 p.m. driving home through dark, and quiet streets after a visit with a friend. I stopped for a red light at an even darker and yes, scary corner. Secure in my cadallic, I saw this homeless man, or so he seemed, leaning against the wall of a run down building. One knee was bent as his foot rested on the wall He seemed intent on watching passing cars, apparently waiting to catch a stopped car at the light. No other car was in in place with me. The light kept me waiting not far from him.

Suddenly, I felt an onslaught of emotion, streaks of fear, glad that I had electric locks which in one quick press of a button, I secured all doors. All windows were up. I was safe, locked in.

But this man stepped into the street walking to my passenger side. I was conflicted, conscious of the inequality. Here I sat comfortably driving an upscale, air-conditioned car while he seemingly employed his feet for transportation. Sure, there was ample money in my pocket to give him. That’s probably what he wanted. And probably harmless, I, nevertheless, felt that demon of fear. That fear held me, took me captive, emotionally apart from this human being. I failed to reach out and hand him a twenty living in my wallet. Paradoxically, that long wait for the light to change forced me to grab that twenty in my hand. “Give him the damn twenty, I thought. What I did was to press the side window button, slit it just enough to pitch the bill out, forcing him to stoop to the ground to retrieve it. He walked back and away. The light turned green. I revved up the motor and scooted out of there.

So what did I carry home? No great feelings around the virtue of generosity but only feelings of shame. Blinded by fear, I had treated another human like an animal, throwing him a bone, forcing him to stoop to the ground for it. Fear can be an awful distraction from doing the good we want to accomplish.

One friend attempted to console me: “Honey, that was smart. Keep those doors locked.” Was she smart? Maybe. Yet, I don’t pass that corner without remembering that needy young man. One nun friend told me “You weren’t your best You. You’re going to have to live with it.”

There is always someone within sight who can use an extra bill or two. The habit of generosity moves a soul to stretch, to play a vital part in the world’s movement of money. And you and I have to decide when it’s part of God’s direction to send out that money. But when we resist, we have to live with it. It’s a spiritual thing.

Small Gifts - Good Stewards

Good Stewardship! Aren’t we always guessing, hoping, wondering if we are being good stewards, following God’s mandate, yet never really knowing for sure? One thing became very true for me: a good steward treats all creation respectfully. Yes, even a penny!

Remember how the woman in Jesus’ parable, searches for her lost coin? Her search wasn’t for a wad of bills, a cache of jewels, or a boxed treasure of stored gold. Her search is for one single coin. She pulls out a broom, sweeps the house thoroughly. She lights a lamp, (oil costs!) to help her find her missing coin. When she finds it. Voila! She grabs the phone, now energized by her find, and calls her neighbors: “Hooray! I finally found my penny!”

What’s the lesson here? One biblical commentator offered: “The looking for that penny and the celebration may have cost her as much as the coin itself. But to her, it was worth it” It’s curious how yes, even a penny can mean so much. What is Jesus trying to tell us?
Here’s a modern twist on a penny that I caught on the internet. Horrified to see a very wealthy man on his walk with her picking up, more than once, a copper coin, Marion spoke up. “How can you take time to stoop for a simple penny.” Nonplused, the rich guy, took his time to look into her question and then turned to search her puzzled eyes:

“Dear woman, all my gifts have come from God. I want God to know that I really believe what it says on this penny: “In God I trust”.

Worldly wisdom would have the biblical poor woman too poor to make a difference and the rich man too rich to pay attention. I think Jesus honored both. Regardless of our preconceived ideas of either wealth or poverty, aren’t we all, as good stewards, enjoined to care and be grateful for the smallest of God’s gifts? Think about it.

Welcoming Wealth with a Goodbye

My heart holds deep reverence for an elderly man, an artist poet, Harry Wiseman, who was recently interviewed on National Public Radio’s Arts Connection. He confided that, paradoxically, his wealth emerged when he could let things go. “Worrying about my possessions just seems to make me feel poor.” he offered his listening audience. “It’s how to hold onto them, how to lock them up safely, a million how’s to keep them. But when I give away some tool of mine, or even a chair that I designed, I feel richer. Nothing owns me. I’m at peace.”

Happiness Does Not Consist in “How Much”

“If you believe strongly enough in yourself and God, and don’t spend all your energies on making, questing, or worrying about money, you will get what you need when you need it.” spoke John’s mother, Josepha. And, sure enough, despite an alcoholic husband, five children to feed, the family never went hungry. They found woods where natural foods offered themselves to the family, fresh and nourishing. Josepha never allowed money or the lack of it to determine her course, her feelings, her faith. “I live each day fully. Happiness is never dependent on how much I have, but what I do with what the little I have been given.”

Josepha discovered her inner wealth “from nature walks, flower gardens, and the silence of the woods. I found refuge in books, treasures in the public library brought the outside world into my dreary one.”

Years later, and now happily married to a man of modest means, Josepha exclaims: “My new husband and I often laugh at how rich we feel.”
(Adapted from Wisdom Women in the best seller, Money as Sacrament.)

Nine Things I Want My Neighbors to Know

1) Honor the money as gift. The amount is secondary. Know that it comes as gift. When you are conscious of this, your soul is alive in peace and contentment.

2) Shift your position from ego satisfaction to spirit satisfaction. Spirit doesn’t seek control, power, or symbols of wealth. It seeks Other.

3) Do what you love doing. Try never just to do it for the money!

4) The truth is always wanting to come up. By being spiritually aware, you will discover more of what enriches your soul. And then, like they say, it will set you free.

5) Yes, you can give without loving but you can’t love without giving.

6) We are not physical beings seeking some spiritual experience. We are already truly spiritual beings who happen to inhabit a physical dimension.

7) Celebrate the energy that comes from hearing and believing in God’s call to you

8) Know that when you render to Caesar the things that are his, you render to God everything since it all belongs to Him.

9) Care for yourself. Theilhard de Chardin advises that: “To the degree that I care for myself might be the degree in which I care for another. If there isn’t much love for the me inside, I diminish my care for those outside of me

Backyard Potting Soil

One day, Jim saved me from my backyard soil. He’d made a trip to Green Gardens Nursery, came home and breezily announced: “Honey, I bought some potting soil.”

I was furious. Why spend money on something we already had. I pointed out that our backyard consisted of an acre of potting soil. Of course, I didn’t mention an aching back, dirty fingernails, or a possible Florida heat stroke.

After breakfast, the next day, as I pulled out my purse for a day’s shopping. it finally hit me! One purpose of money is to save time and labor. Unlike some unfortunate neighbors, I wasn’t exactly called by God to dig in the dirt. Saving dollars on soil stemmed from some old-brain thinking, a time zone belonging to my parents or who knows, perhaps to some long-forgotten rural farmer living in me still wanting to wrestle with soil.

Now, thanks to my husband, I’m free to lay a few extra bills on a nursery counter for a luxury called potting soil. What will be next?” Jim and I both laugh over the switch. “Look, honey, clean fingernails!”

Generosity As Bridge to God

Sophy Owens’ mother, a longtime and talented bookkeeper, had one outstanding parent quality. She never failed to make sure her daughter had extra money anytime she was leaving the house. From the time Sophy was a child, just walking to the library or to the drugstore in busy upper Manhattan, or later, off to some high school event, this single-again mom forever asked: “Honey, have you got enough money with you?” And before Sophy could respond, there was a small wad of green bills shoved into her hand.

According to Sophy, “mom could be impossibly generous, bestowing gifts wherever she felt the urge. And always with that smile. Never extravagant because we had only modest means, just giving what her heart could give. Sophy’s name for mom? “God’s Great Distributor”

“Once when my cousin came to stay, mom went after all the change in the cookie jar for that leg of lamb she’d been eyeing at the butcher’s. It would be an afternoon of culinary effort. Before it was over, like Babette’s feast, magic appeared from nowhere. We all toasted Sophy for that gourmet celebration.”

Sophy discovered these guiding thoughts in her mother’s diary after she passed on: God sees a reflection of himself when we practice generosity toward others. This kind of generosity, perhaps given through church contributions or directly to a child becomes a glorious bridge between ourselves and God. Something so honest and simple as disposing of bills into my daughter’s wallet links me to my Creator.

Who do You Trust?

Back in the 18th Century, Benjamin Franklin, American patriot was appointed to design our paper money. With consciousness of the God living in him, he made sure that paper included the inscription, In God We Trust. He hoped that in seeing that inscription every time we pulled our money out, we’d value its worth and its Source.

Coming from his Colonial British Pound, this must have seemed a revolutionary idea indeed. God and money had never been connected before. But he also knew from his experience in the fast paced Colonial life, how money could be immorally used. That inscription was to remind us to hold money as sacred, pass it on to others, never allow dishonesty to diminish the sanctity of our exchange.

Do you and I still notice that inscription? Do we allow our identity with God to connect to the money. Aren’t we all more inclined to substitute: “in business we trust,” or “in government we trust,” or “ even in church .....? So who do we really trust?

The Eye of God

As a young Nun, I figured a Good God would never connect with an evil like money. After all, didn’t holy scripture tell us that the love of money is the root of all evil? Years later, long out of the convent’s four walls, and after much thinking and writing about it, my entire picture has been upended. Money and God are best of friends!

It happened one day as I looked closely at a dollar bill! There it was, the eye of God, proof that God and money were buddies: Benjamin Franklin thought that if God was connected to our money lives, we would never betray its good uses.

I’m forced to my knees, grateful to God that finally, I see how closely God and money team up Money is all gift. Money builds community. Money bonds us together.

I continue to ask for what I need. I live an abundant life and rejoice in it.

In what way does money lead you to God?

who owns who?

No joke. I have a friend who owns a very fine car, who parks it far from anyone else. "God forbid it should get scratched." When I'm with him I don't ever dare have a drink or eat while we're riding.

On the other hand, I know a bachelor who has lots of money. He dedicates his life to saving the environment or other worthwhile projects. He tells me, and these are his exact words, money is to flow! Obviously he isn't owned by his money.

Then there are those normal ones like you and sometimes me who, sad to say, worry they don't have enough. Some will drive four extra blocks to spend five cents less on a can of peas. Most of us don't even know how much a can of peas cost.

Only with God's grace will we feel that we do have enough. And that, good gracious, we can even get two cans of peas if we want to. So ask yourself. Do I own my money? Or does my money own me?

welcome to my blog on finding the sacred in money

Check here! I'll be noting my next speaking engagments. And periodically, I'll be sharing some insights about how money can play in a sacred way in your life. Be seeing you.