“A pastor gives spiritual advice and counsel,” I used to say to people i was serving. “Don’t expect to receive medical, legal, or financial advice from me. I’m not qualified fo give it.” Part of my statement was a joking way of establishing healthy boundaries. I wanted to be clear about what I could and could not do as a pastor. I was careful to never draw the people I served away from their own sources of counsel and advice on subjects that are important to them. I also wanted to distinguish myself from people who claimed to be pastors, but who preached a “prosperity gospel.” “Follow me,” they say, “and you will become rich.”

To the extent that I led by example, I certainly did not amass wealth during my life. Before I go farther, however, let me be clear. The congregations I served treated me fairly. I received generous salaries, good health insurance, a retirement benefit, and ample support from the congregations I served. I didn’t become a pastor to become wealthy. I became a pastor to serve. I am content with that choice. I have no complaints about the way I have been treated.

I hope that I have been clear that I am no financial wizard. Over the course of my life, I have managed the resources I have more by ignoring them than by active management. I simply allowed my pension funds to be in the pool managed by the denomination and didn’t pay attention to them much at all. Then I followed denominational recommendations in terms of selecting a plan for withdrawal of annuity funds. Our family profited from the homes we purchased and sold and we invested those profits in the home we now have. We managed to save a bit of our income over the years and are trying to be prudent in managing those funds.

I have no clue whether my preparations for retirement are sufficient. I don’t know if we have enough funds to last for the rest of our lives. I do know that I have resources beyond myself in the event of hard times. Our family gives us tremendous support. The church cares about us. We will be fine.

I suppose I could have done better with the resources I have had. If, for example, I had purchased stock in Apple Computer when I first was aware of the company, that stock would be worth a whole lot more than any other investment I have made. The same would be true had I purchased Starbucks stock when I first became aware of that company. I did not. Hence another joke that I frequently have made: “It is a good thing that I am not wealthy. If I were wealthy I would have really gotten myself into trouble.”

So I have not invested in cryptocurrency. I don’t understand cryptocurrency. Then again I don’t think that many people do, including those who have invested heavily in the imaginary funds. I am convinced that part of what drives the crypto markets is a fantasy that wealth can be made from thin air. There are those who want wealth and who may even believe that they deserve wealth. They believe if the stars align properly they will have wealth. One of my younger brothers was that way. He believed that if he found the right scheme he would become rich. He bought lottery tickets and believed that he could win. He chased a number of get rich quick schemes. He never won the lottery and he never became rich, but he spent a lot of time imagining what he would do if that happened. A lot of what he imagined involved helping other people.

For a while a lot of people in our country held the fantasy of a wonder kid who would become rich by means they could not understand, but nonetheless got fabulously wealthy and didn’t spend the money on himself, but on acts of charity. For a while Sam Bankman-Fried seemed to be that wonder kid. He made public appearances wearing t-shirts and shorts. He didn’t buy fancy cars or huge houses. He claimed to be giving away a lot of money. And his cryptocurrency company allowed him to amass a fortune. He got rich faster than almost anyone in history, amassing an estimated $26 billion in personal wealth. He made the covers of magazines. He had friends in high places. He didn’t buy a yacht or a mansion.

It turned out, however, that the fantasy was just that: a fantasy. It turned out that much of the money Bankman-Fried gave away went to political causes rather than agencies that help people. Purchasing influence is not the same as providing food, shelter, and clothing. In the end his company lost more than $8 billion in customer funds - the result of his decisions took money away from others. In general that is how people become wealthy - on the back of the losses of others. Bankman-Fried was convicted of syphoning billions of dollars of customer money, believing that he would never get caught. He did get caught.

I suspect that people believed that he was a financial genius in part because they wanted him to be one. They wanted to believe in the myth of a self-made young genius billionaire. They wanted to believe that some of that wealth would some how rub off on them. They wanted to believe that there was someone who wanted great wealth for the purpose of accomplishing great good. And while it is true that some wealthy philanthropists have accomplished a great deal of good in the world, it remains to be seen if the good they have achieved offsets the losses of others and the lives destroyed on their path to wealth.

Unlike Bankman-Fried, I do have a yacht. It is a canoe. And I have not only one, but several. I have a very comfortable home. And I own some nice dress-up clothes. Along the way I have invested in the congregations I have served and the denomination that is my home. I have chosen charitable organizations that I believe are doing great good in the world and made the contributions I felt I could afford. My impact has been small. There’s nothing to attract the interest of those who make magazine covers or those who wield influence in political circles. Furthermore, I don’t believe in magical wealth or self-made genius billionaires.

And I haven’t got a clue how cryptocurrency works. Then again, I’m not sure I understand how regular money works, either.