A Livelihood of Giving

Charity is measured by how much we trust in God, not how much we give.

By Mark McDermott

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We know God asks us to give from what we have, but the question of how much to give has wracked the minds and hearts of the faithful for millennia. Righteous sacrifice appears an uncomfortable commonality throughout the Scriptures for those who enjoy television and beds and hot food. In this week’s readings, the widow shares what she has with a stranger (Elijah) who comes to her with the Word of God; the epistle to the Hebrews contrasts the heavenly sacrifice of Christ with the traditional Jewish ritual sacrifices; and, of course, the Gospel describes the widow offering “her whole livelihood.” Is Jesus calling us to forsake all worldly possessions forever? On the surface, it does seem unjust that, among all of God’s children, some are well-fed and comfortable while others endure lifetimes of destitution.

But Jesus does not call us to seek out suffering for ourselves. Jesus came so that we “might have life, and may have it abundantly” (John 10:10). All Saints’ Day invoked the Beatitude, “Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven” – a poverty in spirit where material wealth is insignificant to us, and is not our driving motivation. The Letter to the Hebrews extolls the heavenly sacrifice of Christ, not a worldly one. Jesus acknowledges that “the poor you will always have with you” – making ourselves miserable for no purpose is not the intention here. Jesus did not condemn the woman in John’s Gospel for buying spikenard rather than providing a few meals to the poor. This happens elsewhere in the Gospels: for instance, someone had an upper room and a Passover meal for Jesus to share with his disciples. Why is it not sinful that this “whole livelihood” was not offered to the Temple treasury?

This is because Jesus did not come to save balance sheets; he came to save our hearts and souls. What the readings describe is not the supposed evil of possession but rather the blessings of trust in God. The widows described in the book of Kings and Mark’s Gospel would have had little to no ability to provide for themselves in their societies. By sharing what they did have, these women recognized that no amount of worldly wealth is permanent or sufficient. Holding out for a few more days with a modicum of flour or two coins for a worldly deliverance would be pointless. Both widows instead make an eternal commitment to God rather than themselves. Like the loaves and fish Jesus distributes to the crowd, God multiplies offerings made in trust.

Such a sentiment seems like an evasion of charitable virtue. Does it mean we can give nothing since worldly subsistence is transitory? Does it mean we must give everything to commit our “whole livelihoods?” To me, this shows that it means neither. Each of us is called to give in our own way. What matters is that we place service and giving as the purpose of our livelihoods and of wealth. The rich men in the Gospel who gave from their surplus made gifts that did not mean anything to them. It was extra, disposable – and that is not a gift of love. Jesus asks that we give intentionally and with our whole hearts – that giving becomes the purpose of our livelihood.

Consider if service became a part of a routine, an essential habit, just like our jobs. Then worship, self-care, and relaxation help us to serve, just as they help us work to provide for ourselves. Likewise, if charitable giving is part of a regular budget, rather than a “surplus” apportionment, other work can be offered up to God even if it does not directly appear to minister to the poor. Imagine if, during one of those inevitable tough days at work, we could say “The work I am doing this day is helping the less fortunate through my charity.” Or on a good day, “Isn’t it a blessing to be able to share this joy with the world?” In that way, whatever we do is less for ourselves and more for others – a way for us to offer our own livelihoods to God. Abel did not sacrifice his whole flock to God, but he did offer his best. If charity is indispensable to our routine, then we can, each in our own way, commit our lives and livelihoods to that which is eternal.