Churches and Temples and Money...oh my!

Anyone want to try and guess my least favorite season of the church year??? Anyone? Buhler?....Buhler?
Well it's "Stewardship season", and I almost rather despise it at this point. I find it so frustrating, and for so many reasons. For example:
1. Stewardship should not be secret church code for a capital campaign.
2. Stewardship shouldn't be confined to a season.
3. The typical experience rarely challenges westernized status quo with gospel based instruction.
4. The typical English vernacular attributed to stewardship is wholly inaccurate and often completely unquestioned.

Don't get me wrong, I have fulfilled a tithe my entire adult life. So I recognize that money is indeed an inevitable part of being a good steward, but I also feel that the biggest contributions I have been able to give to my church have always been non-monetary.
For all the times we've stated that the church is the people, not the building(s), we continue to undercut this sentiment with our vocabulary, which unconsciously reinforces the false narrative.
2 years ago this month, after a long 24 hours of travel, I landed at the airport of the Capitol of Brazil. I was greeted by my Bispo, who helped me and the (far too numerous) suitcases get loaded up in the vehicle. He had mentioned that his English had grown a bit rusty, but since I spoke no Portuguese yet, it was still far better than my attempts in his language. As he drove us through the city toward his house, we passed our cathedral. "This was the second temple built when they designed this city. Just after the national Catholic cathedral [in the heart of the monument and government district]. We are very proud to have such a longstanding legacy here." I was rather tired at this point, and now very confused, since I couldn't read the sign nor recognize the building yet, and was under the impression that the Jewish population of Brazil was minute at most. For, in English, the word "temple" is only really used in the context of Judaism. I soon learned that the brazilians did, indeed specifically denote "templo" versus "igreja" (church) in common speech. The temple stayed in one place, the church didn't. The church would be in the park, or on a retreat, or visiting another parish, or at in-home bible studies. The church appeared wherever and whenever the people gathered, not the building. And so, when it came to stewardship, the conversation was also inherently different.
One of the most fascinating things about how the Anglican Church of Brazil operates and structures, at least in the diocese of Brasilia, is that the members do not support the buildings financially. In fact, it is the opposite: the resources of land and buildings are directly used to provide funds for the upkeep of the sanctuary and the employment of the clergy and staff. Nearly every temple has a portion of the land (or floors) rented out to traditional businesses, rental apartments, or other such secular institutions. The money from these incomes is what keeps the accounts balanced and the lights on. That way, the money given in pledges or tithes by members go to a different place, programming that directly serves members or community needs. The cost of running a program like where I worked, benefiting the poorest, youngest members of the most impoverished areas  in the city, at no cost to the families are funded by the church, since the church isn't funding the temple.
We in the Episcopal tradition tend to take great pride in our beautiful structures, and I will not deny that the creation of sacred spaces is an important component of worship. There is no doubt that stewardship should include the care and keeping of our buildings. However, I continually question if we, in the wealthiest nation since the recorded history of humankind, have really missed the major point of this.
Jesus did not come to rebuild the temple buildings or pay off a building fund. Christ showed over and over that the power of the living church, his own body, was in directly serving people.
When we invest so disproportionately prioritize our buildings and grounds to the extent that we forget to continue to looks for new community service, we do ourselves the most damage. If only our temples are sacred spaces, we will always struggle to maintain our heavenly connection beyond the walls. We subconsciously confine God to a building, and, since we cannot see through walls, we separate ourselves from the rest of the body of God's people. When we stay focused on our buildings, we amputate ourselves.
So, let us begin to imagine the radically different church we could be if we worshiped with the Church, not just at the temple. And let us modify our language to help us better remember the difference.