Generosity

December 23, 2001

But what can I give you?
Give my heart.

Christina Rossetti

Christina Rossetti's words in the great carol "In the Bleak Midwinter" strike the chord I wish to play this morning:

What can I give you
poor as I am?
If I were a shepherd,
I would give a lamb.

If I were a wise man,
I would do my part.
But what can I give you?
Give my heart.

The carol is about generosity. Imagining herself present at the nativity of Jesus Christ, Rossetti wonders what gift she might bring. Knowing that she has nothing of value, certainly nothing comparable in value to the gift of the Christ child, she offers the only thing she has: her heart. It will suffice.

Giving gifts--following the example of the three wise men--has become an integral part of the Christmas holiday. Some would say it is too much a part. But though too many of us get carried away with this particular tradition of the annual Christmas celebration, we should not underestimate the generous impulse that underlies it. The season is about gifts, both tangible and intangible.

My colleague Richard Gilbert reminds us that the "gifts that matter have no weight":

Gifts that matter have no weight.
They are without substance.
Gifts that matter most are given to us
by the Hand of Life in grace:
moonlight on fresh-fallen snow,
frost etched in delicate tracery on a window pane,
crackling fireside bright because of who is there,
aromas of cooked food betokening a family feast,
reunion of those long separated. . .
memories of Christmas past, gone, but not forgotten,
anticipations of the new year yet to be
gift-givers whom we love
the gift of life itself.
Gifts that matter have no weight.

Christmas is about generosity. The Oxford English Dictionary defines generosity as "excellence," magnanimity, freedom from meanness or prejudice. A generous person is one who is "free in giving, liberal, munificent."

Consider the themes of the season. A poor couple is rejected at the inn, and forced to sleep in a stable. The woman is pregnant and gives birth there in a manger, less genteelly known as a feeding trough. We all know that story. Who, in hindsight, would not have offered them a place to stay?

In Prague, in the Czech Republic, I visited Wenceslas Square and saw the stature of "Good King Wenceslas," who is supposed to have disguised himself in order to go among and help the poor in his kingdom. We all know the story, and we admire him for it. But we find it hard to emulate him, or, perhaps, feel that we can't afford to. Or we find it difficult to think of the homeless in our midst as the poor people of the Christmas song.

Christmas is an opportunity to make use of our time, talent, and treasure. For some of us, it is the one time of year when we are truly generous. We may give our time to a worthy cause, or contribute our hard earned treasure to some charitable enterprise. We may demonstrate an exorbitance which is quite out of character.

On the other hand, some of us may resent the demands that are placed upon us at this season of the year. Perhaps we cannot afford to do all that we would like to do, or imagine that we are supposed to do. Some of us need to get away from the notion that only material gifts will do. Often, it is enough simply to give our hearts. It is enough to be present to others. We can only give what we have and what we are. Usually that is more than enough, but strangely, some us don't even do that.

The trouble is, too many of us function out of the myth of scarcity. This is a term that professional fund raisers sometimes use. It means that we believe there is never enough. Never enough time, never enough talent, never enough treasure. Let's cut right to the chase: some of us are cheap.

There are lots of reasons for this, some personal, some not. I think the myth of scarcity may be worse in New England than in other places. Perhaps it has to do with our Puritan roots, and with the difficulty of survival in a harsh climate which our ancestors faced in the early years of settlement here. Maybe it did something permanent to the New England psyche. Whatever the case, New Englanders never seem to believe there is enough. We're always saving for the rainy day that never comes, or waiting for the other shoe to drop, or finding excuses to keep things just as they are.

I truly believe that the myth of scarcity is just that: a myth. Let me suggest to you that there is always enough. At least, there is always enough of what is really important. One of the things that I have learned from our Transylvanian friends is that you don't need money or material goods to be generous. Friendship and warmth are more than enough. Time is more than enough. Hospitality is enough. Giving what you have is enough, even if it is only your heart that you have to give.

Another thing I have learned is that we have a lot more than we think we do. That's us: you and I. It all comes down to priorities. I can choose to use my time, talent, and treasure any way I want. We believe in free will, after all. The biblical parable of the widow's mite is instructive here. The idea is that one woman's penny is another's thousand dollar bill. Who is more generous: the woman who can only afford to give a single penny but gives it, or the one who could afford to give a thousand dollars and only gives a hundred?

There are people out there in our society who give absolutely nothing to anyone. Nada. Zero. No volunteering, no donations, no church pledge. They keep it all for themselves, materially and emotionally. Or they are merely takers. Luckily, they are not in the majority. But they don't know what they are missing.

I have seen enough of real poverty to know of a certainty that we can all give something. It is within our means. Yes, it will cost us something, but to use Tom Stites' analysis from his recent fine sermon [New Reasons to be Thankful], let us look at the cost to benefit ratio. I happen to think that the benefits of generosity far outweigh their costs, whether in terms of a friendly greeting or of a generous contribution to a worthy cause.

How can I convince you of this? I cannot. I can only tell you that if you give it a try, you may find generosity to be habit forming. Some of you already know this, and know it far better than I. Once you make it a priority to give, you will find that not only is there more than enough, but that it makes you feel good, too.

Giving "until it hurts" is only a figure of speech, undoubtedly coined by some penurious old New Englander. It doesn't hurt to give: it feels good. The more you give, the better you feel. But don't take my word for it: give it a try.

Are there dangers in generosity? Yes and no. You may get tired. You may go broke. You may get cheated. You may have to prioritize, and reconsider your needs, and go without. But the rewards will always outweigh the risks. I am convinced of this.

It's about generosity, folks. And it needs to be said, generosity cannot be just at this one time of the year. From those who have much, much is demanded. We should be happy about this, because it could be otherwise. We should give thanks if we have the means to be especially generous, this time of the year or at any other.

That is my message for this Christmas season. Consider the possibility that there is enough, and more than enough. Reject the myth of scarcity for what it is. Consider the possibility that there is always an abundance of what is needful, be it money, or be it only the fullness of what the mystics call "an abundant heart."

Even small acts of generosity will do. So may your Christmas be filled with many gifts, both given and received, more even than you expected or dreamed. I wish it for you. So may it be.

The Rev. Harold E. Babcock