At Empty Bowls
the other night, I looked around and felt moved. Moved by the generosity of members of the community who had paid ten dollars for a bowl of soup; moved by those businesses who had donated soup; moved by the time given by artists to create bowls; moved by the young people who helped serve; moved by the time donated by “less professional” bowl makers; moved by those who organized the event; moved by the fact that the money raised would go to help the neediest in our community. I thought: what a great event! In the planning, the bowl making, the soup making—all is done for the common good. And people show up for the common good. Thelaughter and general jollity seemed to underline the good of the event.
Watching everyone, I remembered a preacher in England whose central theme was this: “Giving is good for you.” No, not the prosperity gospel in which people are instructed to give to the preacher so that he/she (and maybe they) can get rich.
No, giving is good because it reminds us of the truth that nothing truly belongs to us. Giving reminds us that (as the Spanish sage put it) “there are no pockets in a shroud.” Giving becomes a sacramental (outward and visible sign) of that truth. A way of saying, “I don’t own this and it won’t own me.” Giving keeps us from the common temptation to hoard.
We see this message over and over in the teaching of Jesus, as he contrasts those who are rich in this life with those who are rich toward God. Jesus rails against the hoarding of the religious leaders and salutes the generosity of the widow who gives her last coins. Jesus tells stories, about the man who was rich in this life and after death wished he’d shared with the poor man. Or about the rich fool who gloats, “My gosh, look at all I’ve gotten for myself…. I’m going to build a barn and store it…” God says, “You fool, tonight your soul is required of you.
“Where your treasure is, there your heart will be,” Jesus says.
Throughout the Old Testament we see this theme. God commands his people to be radically impractical: to forgive debts, return property, free slaves—every seven years. God’s people are to give the first part of their harvest to God; to leave parts of the harvest for the poor. Theprophets rail against those who lie on their ivory beds, eating rich foods, while the poor cry out for their wages. God reminds the Israelites that he doesn’t want them to think they have gotten where they are by their own strength, doesn’t want them to hoard, to forget the poor and the immigrant. Give, God says.
This truth runs deep in other religious traditions and across cultures in folk tales: hang onto something, hide it away for yourself and it will spoil. Or get a terrible hold on you (like the Midas touch) and kill what you really care about. (Anyone who has dealt with families squabbling over the antiques and silver after a funeral will know this.) In a fascinating book called, The
Gift: Imagination and the Erotic
Life of Property,
Lewis Hyde traces this idea in many cultures, and concludes that the idea of gift is central to human understanding. Across cultures, the gift cannot be bought or earned, cannot be acquired through an act of the will. The spirit of the gift is kept alive by its constant moving: it is to be given away, not held onto. The gift, he argues, when it circulates around a group, leaves a series of interconnected relationships.
As we approach the holiday season, we are sure to think about gifts. But this is a different way of thinking—not the transaction that says, “I give you a present that cost me fifty bucks, so what have you got for me?” Instead we are called to think of ourselves as stewards, holding with open hands, called to share with those in need.
Empty Bowls
was a great opportunity for that kind of giving. And soon we’ll be seeing red kettles around our community. The Salvation Army was started in 1865 as a response to the appalling disparities in Victorian England— extreme wealth on the one hand and desperate poverty on the other. (Think Dickens’ Christmas Carol,
written near the same time.) Founders were also responding to religion that concerned itself only with people’s spiritual needs. The Salvation Army developed radical programs to feed the poor, counter the gin mills, and fight prostitution.
Back in those days, the Salvation Army stood on street corners with banners and brass bands and preached the good news of a God whose grace keeps on giving. We can keep the gift moving by putting money into those red kettles that help the poorest in our community even today.
Each month a member of the
Cook County Ministerium will
offer Spiritual Reflections. For
November, our contributor is
Mary Ellen Ashcroft, mentor
of Spirit of the Wilderness
Episcopal Church and founder
of WindCradle Retreat.
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