Photo: Billy Pasco on Upsplash
Dear People, Neighbours, and Friends of St. Thomas’s,
Nearly thirty years ago, the Presiding Bishop’s Fund for World Relief, now known as Episcopal Relief and Development, paid for me to attend their annual conference, which that year was being held in Seattle. The Fund had representatives from every state and each of the (at the time) eleven official Episcopal seminaries, and the purpose of the gathering was to learn more about the activities of the Fund both at home and abroad, so that the representatives could better communicate its mission and raise awareness. Seminarians were recruited not so much for our fundraising acumen as for the fact that we could be influencers on our peers and clergy networks, so that when the Fund representatives came knocking looking for donations, the clergy might be more receptive to allowing them access to congregations.
The executives of the Fund had no difficulty communicating the “World Relief” part of their mission. They spoke movingly of their role in the wake of natural disasters such as earthquakes in Haiti. But each annual conference was special because they also highlighted the domestic work of the Fund by putting us all on tour buses and taking us on a site visitation, where we would see the impact of the Fund’s support firsthand. The year before, we had gone to Kansas City and surveyed an area that had been devastated by flooding. Among other things, the floodwaters had been so powerful that they lifted caskets out of their graves and sent them floating down the street.
Our site visit to Seattle was not quite as dramatic. We were taken to the famous Pike’s Place Market, which was, as usual, filled with tourists. But in a small corner of the market there was a homeless shelter, whose executive director was a wheelchair-bound recovering alcoholic and drug addict who had lived on the streets for several years. The story of her journey from homelessness to stable housing and sobriety, and then from there to (of all things) the Episcopal priesthood and her current work with the homeless was inspiring. I remember that she was tough as nails and completely unsentimental about her pilgrimage of faith, which included time spent in prison. At the end of her spellbinding testimony, she said, “I want you to do me a favour.” I expected that a request for a donation or something was about to follow. But no. She said, “The next time a homeless person asks you for money, don’t give it to him. Every dollar I received enabled me to live on the streets for one more day, whether I bought food or drugs or whatever. Every act of charity prevented me from hitting bottom. And it was only when I hit bottom that I realized that the help I was getting from good people like you wasn’t helping me at all. So if you want to help homeless men and women, don’t give them money.”
I was shocked. After all, in Luke’s account of the Sermon on the Plain, Jesus says, “Give to everyone who begs from you…Do to others as you would have them do to you.” Wasn’t this priest contradicting Jesus’ own teaching?
But she continued, “Give them something more valuable. Give them a relationship.” She went on to describe how only when people stopped to engage her as another human being and tried, even unsuccessfully, to connect her to community services that were equipped to address the root causes of her homelessness, did she begin to see a way out of her desperate situation. Only when other people honoured her dignity, even after she finally “hit bottom,” and stood in solidarity with her did she receive the help she really needed.
I’ve thought a lot about that priest’s words since then. And I’ve come to the conclusion that almsgiving, traditionally understood, is not a bad thing. But when Jesus says, “Give to everyone who asks of you” and “Do to others as you would have them do to you,” I think that second part indicates that any almsgiving we engage in (whether directly to a person in need or to a program or charity set up to address their needs, such as the Friday Food Ministry) is only the beginning of what it means to live by the Golden Rule.
I will be the first one to admit that I do not engage every poor or homeless person who puts out their hand to me. I am often in a hurry and do not wish to stop. And of course, walking the streets of a major city in a clerical collar presents its own set of challenges. Some people think that I’m an easy mark. Others don’t even engage me, likely because they’ve had negative experiences with clergy in the past. But when I’ve been intentional about my almsgiving, I will stop and give the person my card, or ask them whether they know of the Friday Food Ministry. I will try to honour their dignity as fellow human beings created in the image of God, and occasionally I manage to do something that demonstrates not simply my goodwill, but my solidarity.
If, in this upcoming season of Lent, you wish to be more intentional about your own almsgiving, ask yourself what might add some extra value to the Loonie or Toonie you give, whether to someone who asks you directly, or to the ministry or agency whose mission is to address the symptoms and causes of any given social ill. Volunteering can be almsgiving. Of course, many of us already volunteer. If we are working in any form of outreach, perhaps seeing it as part of your almsgiving may add an extra layer of meaning to your commitments.
There are many ways that we choose to give alms. And if you’re anything like me, your almsgiving is less consistent than you’d like it to be. Self-flagellation, however, is not one of the three traditional disciplines of Lent. In prayer, fasting, and almsgiving, we are seeking to extend our relationship with God and with each other in new or deeper ways. Even when we do not live up to the high standards we might like to keep, the intention to see the image of God in our neighbour, whomever that neighbour might be, does in fact please God. God can take whatever alms you have to give and multiply them, more than either the giver or the receiver can imagine, if both giver and receiver are willing to cooperate with God’s abundant and redeeming grace.
Yours in Christ’s service,
N.J.A. Humphrey+
VIII Rector