To give or to want to give (continued, again and again)

If what matters is the act of giving it all and not its impact or lack thereof, then I need to find out how transformative and sustainable that can be. How can it be sufficient to say “it only needs to come from the heart” but the donor as a result then depends on someone else’s goodwill? And if the exercise here is to experience what it is like to let go and give away things we are attached to, then it should not be done at the expense of the needy, should it?

Yes, I can’t help but go back to pragmatism especially when it comes to the charity feast example. If giving is done strategically, then it will have longer lasting and further reaching impacts. It reinforces my feeling that people are often “poor” because of, in great part, their mindset [boy I know I am going to take some heat for saying this]. And the feast is a perfect example: if their goal is to get out of poverty and be self-sustaining and autonomous, then they should not even want this feast, and would want to direct the charity towards more impacting operations like gathering long term staples, and such. Which one (the feast or the long term planning) would feel better and more rewarding? Otherwise, it’s as if both the donor and recipient want the status quo.

If one gives from the heart, and the donation has no impact, or maybe even makes the situation worse (like rendering people dependent and assisted minded), then is it fair, is it good that the act of giving benefits only the donor? Then can it not be defined as self-indulgence? If not, then what is self-indulgence for Christians?

When the women gave her last coin to the temple, why does the story end here? What happens when she leaves the temple and goes back to her life? Does she then have the attitude “God will provide?” But I thought God only helps the ones who help themselves? Is that helping oneself to give it all out?

These are all new thoughts… I need to make sense of them; help welcome.

If there was an X-games of giving, this guy would win the main event.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=y_3BEwpv0dM

To give or to want to give (continued, again)

Alex's post below has me reacting in various ways. As usual, she's spot on, as far as pragmatic thinking goes. Sure, it's obvious that there are benefits to keeping what you earn. And sure, those benefits extend beyond you. Using my refinance conundrum as an example, she mentions that my renovation will obviously benefit me, but will also provide employment to a number of people who almost certainly could use the work. In fact, she says, one should never engage in charity unless there's some anticipated benefit, to both the giver and the receiver. Again, this all makes very good sense from a pragmatic vantage. It's charity backed by sound economics. Seems like a great model for giving.

But you know, the thing that most frustrates me about my faith and yet most attracts me to it is how completely illogical it is. In my earlier post I mentioned the New Testament example of the woman who gave practically her last penny in the temple, and how much more meaningful this donation was than the more significant donations of the wealthier temple-goers. Alex's response to this story might be to point out how much more the temple would benefit from the larger donations than the pittance this poor woman was donating. Also, it probably wasn't the most prudent thing in the world for a broke woman to go throwing her last bit of money away like that. But the point Jesus was trying to make in praising her giving was that it came from the bottomless generosity of her heart. So what, Alex might reasonably ask. Who cares what's in your heart?

Ah. You see where I'm going with this, right? When you talk about charity from a Christian perspective, it's all about what's in your heart. No, it doesn't jive with wise economics. It doesn't even jive with common sense. It is all about what your convictions are based on. Are your convictions based on the bottom line? Or are they based on a generosity that expects absolutely no returns? Wouldn't it be crazy if our convictions about how we treated others were founded on the latter principle? Well, that's exactly what Jesus taught and it's one of the reasons he was a radical. Although Alex more than once has rejected this notion and recently described him as a depressed guy who couldn't hack it in the real world and felt everyone should be as broke and directionless as him. She said, "He was probably a bum. A nice bum, a kind bum, but a bum."

Ok, she cracks me up. I can't help but laugh when she strips away the "make nice" language around religion and says it how she feels it. Who else in my life would ever call the great Jesus a "nice bum"? But to get back to this notion of why we Christians feel this call to give without calculating what either we or the receiver get out of our giving, I want to recall another conversation I once had with Alex.

She and I were driving in my car, and I mentioned I had to make a quick detour. I had to deliver some food to my kid's pre-school where a Thanksgiving collection was being held so people could come in and take what they needed home to make a feast for the big day. She was silent for a while, and I asked if she minded the side-trip. She didn't mind that, but what she did object to was the use of the word "feast." She couldn't comprehend why poor people would need to have a feast, an actual blow-out, eat yourself silly feast for Thanksgiving. It would have been way better to provide them with staples that would last them for months at a time; sacks of rice, beans and lentils, etc.

I couldn't articulate then why I felt like everyone deserves to have a friggin' feast on occasion, because technically, practically speaking she's right! No question, it would have been way better for the church to collect long-lasting staples instead of these feast materials that would last less than a week. But spiritually, even from a non-Christian standpoint, come on. Everyone needs a feast. And from the Christian standpoint, the symbolism behind feasting is so powerful it's not even funny. I would never, in a million years, be a follower of a God who said, "Now Marta, given who you are and what you've done in your life, upon the termination of said life I reckon you should come over for dinner and I'll give you some lentil soup and some brown rice. That should do you nicely."

I don't know a lot of scripture by heart, but I can tell you, the word "feast" floats through the good book like a tantalizingly good smell. It wafts gently over all the other stuff about me that's not particularly deserving of a break and serves as a guarantee of a completely illogical and endless generosity that asks nothing from me in return. Now there's no question that what I just wrote there was a terrible, no-good, run-on sentence. Sorry. But hopefully it suggests something about an alternative, if uneconomical model for giving.

To Give or to Want to Give (cont'd)

Reading your post, Marta, many ideas are rushing through my head. Here they are – very raw and unorganized:

Your refinance money is going to go to various individuals who will have worked for it (manually and/or selling you good and services via their businesses). They will feed their families with it, which in turn will sustain farmers, ranchers, and other industries out there… The money does not vanish into thin air. It circulates. It’s an efficient dignified system. And there’s something to be said about sweating for one’s dollar earned. Aren’t those transactions noble and efficient – dare I say even “godly”?

Yes I understand that part of the argument is about those individuals that cannot be part of the economic system…

Well, if there is a God, surely he knows if one really wants to give to charity or if one just does it because: (i) it’s the right thing to do; and/or (ii) feels guilt. But what is the goal here? Helping the “poor” (the end justifying the means)? Or personal brownie points?

I find charity tricky in many ways… for the recipient and the donor.

Charity should not be carried out with the only goal being to let go of one’s possessions or wealth. Its intent has to be goal-oriented, and it has got to be fulfilled for it to be worthwhile. If all it does is handing out a fish without teaching how to fish, there is really no point. Going ahead with it could then be called self-indulgence.

The power of intention. If the genuine intention is behind the gesture of giving, the result will have more impact. Not having the desire is quite alright.

I deeply feel giving has to fit in one’s circumstances just right. It has to flow effortlessly. It should not be agonizing, afflicting, harrowing, tormenting; if it is, then one becomes a liability to oneself and others. The whole thing becomes a hindrance, putting the individual at a disadvantage, or compromising what he/she is responsible for. It defeats the purpose. But what is the purpose? I am wondering if that is where the real debate lies.

Also, if keeping one’s earnings to oneself somehow motivates the individual to be even a better human being. Surely giving is not the only criteria to assess one’s goodness. How about it makes the person even more focused, in touch, reaching for quality all around? How about he/she spends (not give) it thoughtfully? Quality is sometimes expensive: quality food, quality education, quality time with one’s children, family, friends... when one surrounds oneself with quality, I am sure that person radiates it… and many benefit. By “thoughtfully,” I mean purposefully. For instance, instead of going to my regular haircuttery 5 minutes away and pay $20 for a haircut, I now go to my friend’s husband’s hair salon (45 minutes away) since I heard that the 2008 economic downturn cut his wages by two third. I now pay 3 times the price for a haircut. I do get a better haircut in the bargain as he is a true professional hairstylist (ha!)… so that is not charity per se, but I feel really good about it because it helps the receiver.

Anyway, to go back to what you were pondering about: wishing one could… I obviously don’t feel like that. At least not yet. Not that simply.

To give or to want to give

Catching up with Alex after a long silence is always fantastic; it seems like she's always got some interesting new development to reveal. I think of her and her husband Avi as co-captains at the helm of a fast-moving ship - not a bad metaphor for these two sailing enthusiasts. Anyway, the other day she was telling me about a conversation she and Avi had with some friends. These friends wondered if Avi, given his recent professional success, would now begin to donate to charity. The answer was a clear "No." Alex and Avi have always felt that the most valuable thing you can do in life is to set clear goals, and that furthermore, these goals should be determined by your own desires. If you feel like giving to charity along the way, then do it. If not, then don't. I love my friend Alex dearly because she lets me say stuff like this; "But Alex, isn't that kind of selfish?" She thought for a second and then said, "Sure." Well alright, then.

But when my smugness wore off, I had to wonder how I was any less selfish. Sure, my husband and I give to charity, but not to an extent that we actually feel the pinch. Not that feeling a pinch is the main point, of course, but I do want to give more significantly. Here's my question; what's the difference between the person who explicitly declines to do charitable works and the person who wants to but doesn't?

I've been reading Freedom of Simplicity by Richard Foster. It's a book about what "simple" means in the Christian context. Don't let the word "simple" scare you; in fact, this is a book that encourages us to examine every piece of clutter in our lives, spiritual and material. It's not really about simply getting rid of stuff. Still, I find it difficult to read this book without thinking of my conversation with Alex, and of Jesus and his advice to anyone willing to listen; sell your stuff, give the money to the poor, follow me. This instruction is pretty clear. It's also incredibly challenging.

For example, my husband and I just refinanced our mortgage with the aim of renovating our home. When the architect came by to get a sense of what we wanted done, I launched into an exhausting and oft-repeated description of how it feels to try to work in the kitchen when people stand in front of the dishwasher, and then the fridge, and then some crucial drawer, and then back in front of the dishwasher, and on and on. Afterwards, it occurred to me that I was complaining about all these people standing in front of all this stuff. And for the privilege of being able to accommodate all these people and all this stuff, I'll refinance my mortgage and inevitably buy more stuff.

So what's a good Christian, a "simple" Christian to do? Won't God bow His head in disappointment if I renovate my house instead of giving all the money to much more important causes? Intellectually, of course, I know what the concept of "grace" means. And I know there isn't enough refinance money in the world that I could give away in order to be right with God. But it seems sometimes like God's grace is so extravagant a gift; like I might exhaust it someday. Look, I know He won't kick me out of His kingdom or anything if I don't give the refinance money to the poor, but I also don't want to be in my gleaming new kitchen one day during a dinner party, navigating my appliances with ease thinking, "Thank God I'm saved by grace and not works!" But then where's the line? How much do I give?

My sister-in-law, Tasha, a seminary student, had this advice. She said that a professor of hers recommended that we give away the thing in our lives that's most important to us, and then giving stuff away would become easier after that. Sounds intriguing. I thought about giving away my TV. TV is my refuge after a long day with the kids. I disappear come nine o'clock. I won't even answer the phone. I just want to sit and be entertained. But a TV is nothing. Nothing, really. And what does it benefit anyone if I give my TV away, really? So there's one less person watching "The Office" re-runs, whoopee! Watch out world.

But after the conversation ended (and after Natasha revealed that giving away her most prized possession would just about destroy her and that this most prized possession was - wait for it - her sleeping bag) I found myself mulling over this issue further. I know this - and this is something Foster talks about also; that Jesus was poor, but he was not ashamed to be associated with wealthy people. He even allowed a woman to pour out such expensive perfume on his hands and feet that his disciples complained about how much better it would have been to make this kind of expenditure on the poor. It's pretty clear that he doesn't hate wealth but hates our attitude towards it. He placed much more value on a petty offering made by a poor woman than he did on the offerings of others in the temple. His words on the matter; "For they all contributed out of their abundance; but she out of her poverty has put in everything she had, her whole living." What does this mean? Does this mean that we should give everything we have? Or does it mean that we should want to? Foster characterizes her giving as having a "reckless abandon" to it.

Here I am, cash rich after a refinance, architect's drawings in hand. Ready to go. Let's face it, I have about as much reckless abandon to give everything away as Avi and Alex do. Is it cool with God that I at least wish I could?

In the beginning...

In the beginning there was nothing. There was a void and then there was light. Matter formed, followed by the first signs of life. From the vast emptiness of space came forth substance, and the first signs of meaningful discourse. The conscious choices of intelligent beings began to determine events, such as that first ladies' night out.

What? Oh, you thought I was talking about Creation, or Intelligent Design, or the Big Bang or the Big Whatever. No, indeed. I was talking about how Alex and I became friends. Now there's no need to be disappointed, we can talk about that ponderous "In the beginning..." at great length later. But this first posting is actually about how two thirty-something women (Marta and Alex) met, and how they kept meeting, and became the kinds of friends who could talk as easily about the miseries and joys of parenthood as they could about religion.

Here's the thing, we don't believe the same thing at all. And yet, we seem to share this endless curiosity about how that can be. We met and were instantly friends, and there the Big Bang analogy ends. On her second visit to my house, Alex produced a light bulb from her handbag, and installed it in my fridge. I wasn't offended. From the formerly dark and dank recesses of my fridge, there emerged light. Here endeth the somewhat dubious reference to Creation. Our familiarity with each other was virtually instant. Curiously, of all the connections that have bonded us, it is ironic that the one that seems consistently to tighten the bond is the very thing we can't agree on; our religious beliefs.

Alex is an atheist. I am an evangelical Christian. I believe a virgin gave birth to the savior of mankind. Alex finds it easier to believe the possibility that Aliens have visited this planet, removed some of its citizens for some unknown purpose, and returned them, shaken, to their homes. Which of us is crazy?

This blog is our way of cataloging our incredibly deep and important discussions on such matters. Actually, speaking for myself, I'm neither deep, nor important, and I hope the title of our blog reflects that. But the matter of religious faith is deep, and important. Although we are new to blogging, and more importantly, new to discussing our faiths openly - we feel it's a discussion that millions of people are either having, or dying to have. So let's talk.

We'll explore the rationale behind our beliefs, and when we fail to provide rational arguments, we'll justify why rationale has no place in religious debate (a tried and true tactic for novice evangelists like myself). Alex, an intrepid skeptic of conventional wisdom will continue to blow my mind with her unemotional examination of humanity and its flaws, and I will try to blow some minds with my optimistic view that the Bible is actually Good News. We'll read books. We'll watch movies. Some of these will actually be relevant. And then we'll share our ongoing discussion on how irrational we both are to believe what we believe.

Faith, of any kind, after all, is a crazy leap into what you can only hope will offer a safe landing. We won't consciously aim to convert each other. What we'll try to do is to convince each other that we're not, either of us, crazy for choosing in which direction to leap.

Marta