Almsgiving and Self-giving on the Way of Christ

by Mark Kutolowski

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Jesus sat down opposite the treasury and observed how the crowd put money into the treasury. Many rich people put in large sums. A poor widow also came and put in two small coins worth a few cents. Calling his disciples to himself, he said to them, “Amen, I say to you, this poor widow put in more than all the other contributors to the treasury. For they have all contributed from their surplus wealth, but she, from her poverty, has contributed all she had, her whole livelihood.”  

- Mark 12:41-44

In fact, we are very like an honest man paying his taxes. He pays them all right, but he does hope there will be enough left over for him to live on…. The Christian way is different: harder, and easier. Christ says ‘Give me All. I don’t want so much of your time and so much of your money and so much of your work. I want You. I have come not to torment your natural self but to kill it. No half-measures are any good. I don’t want to cut off a branch here and a branch there, I want to have the whole tree down….Hand over the whole natural self, all the desires which you think are innocent as well as the ones you think wicked – the whole outfit. I will give you a new self instead. In fact, I will give you Myself: my own will shall become yours.’

- C.S. Lewis, from Mere Christianity

Almsgiving is perhaps the most misunderstood of the three classic Lenten disciplines of fasting, prayer and almsgiving. The word itself is somewhat archaic – do we ever talk about ‘alms’ anymore except in the context of this Lenten practice? In most church cultures I’ve been a part of, almsgiving has been largely understood as a form of charitable giving. We ‘give alms’ during Lent by setting aside a little extra money to give to a charity that feeds the hungry or gives to the poor. In this form, it’s a tidy, contained practice. It’s an extension of good financial stewardship, and our ongoing obligation to those less fortunate than ourselves. It asks us for some degree of generosity in voluntarily donating our resources. Yet, as it is commonly practiced, almsgiving does not ask that much of us.

I don’t mean here to suggest that there’s anything wrong with charitable giving, or with volunteering our time. Tremendous good is done in our society by organizations that are utterly dependent on the goodwill and generosity of others. Countless people are fed, clothed, and given medical care through the simple, consistent giving of those with greater resources. Our work at Metanoia, too, depends on the support of donors – you wouldn’t be reading this post if not for the generosity of our supporters. When I say that almsgiving doesn’t ask that much of us, what I mean is that, as commonly practiced, almsgiving asks little of our sense of self. When we give from our surplus wealth, our basic stance in life is unchanged. I believe Jesus invites us to something far more radical.

As I’ve been praying and reflecting on this post, I’ve come to believe there’s another, deeper meaning of ‘alms-giving’ than what we commonly understand. I’m haunted by Jesus’ teaching about the gift of the poor widow. It pierces my heart and strikes at the highly utilitarian view of money I so often carry with me. “This poor widow put in more than all the other contributors to the treasury.” Jesus is teaching that it’s not the quantity that we give that matters most, but that we give of our whole self, our whole being. If we give out of our ‘surplus wealth’, our sense of self and identity is not challenged. The poor widow’s gift is transformative not because of how it funds the treasury, but because she gave of her entire being. She emptied herself out of love for God, and in this Jesus saw an example of how his disciples are to live. He even called them over to say, ‘Hey, this is what I’m talking about! Here’s your example of sacrificial love!’ It doesn’t make sense in worldly terms, but it makes perfect sense on the level of the spirit. Only when we give of ourselves completely will we find ourselves in union with Jesus Christ, who gave himself completely out of love for us.

As I meditate on this passage, I’m reminded of another of Jesus’ teachings about money when, shortly before his death, a woman poured ‘three hundred days’ wages’ worth of perfumed oil over him. His disciples are offended by the wastefulness, arguing how the oil could have been sold and the money given to the poor. Jesus defends her act of extravagant love and praises her. The disciples are not wrong on rational grounds – it’s the equivalent of tens of thousands of dollars being spent in one lavish act. Yet Jesus directs them, and us, to another level of reality. At the level of the spirit, the supreme gift is the gift of our self, poured out in love like fragrant oil flowing over the head of our Beloved. This is the love that transforms the world, far more than the proper management of financial resources. I’m also struck that in both of these stories, Jesus sides with the devotional, open hearted actions of women over the more rational, calculated concepts of giving held by his male disciples.

Not long after both of these incidents, Jesus teaches his disciples again what it means to give as he gathers at Passover supper with his inner circle. He breaks bread and as he hands it out says ‘This is my body, which will be given for you,’ and passing the cup of wine he says ‘drink from it, all of you, for this is my blood of the covenant which will be shed on behalf of many for the forgiveness of sins.’ This teaching is even more explicit – I am giving you, and the whole world, my whole self. This is how God loves, and how God gives. As my disciples, this is how you are to give. As we all know, Jesus then went on to live out these words even more explicitly through offering his body to be crucified.

Almsgiving as a Way of Following Christ

What does this mean for how we practice almsgiving? As I mentioned above, I think there is real value in regular charitable donations, and in responsible stewardship of our resources followed by giving to others in need. Perhaps we can see these as foundational practices of Christian self-giving.

However, we are deluding ourselves if we believe that this is all that Christ asks of us in terms of giving. To give as followers of the Way of Christ, we’re asked to give our whole selves in love. This can take many forms, but what they all have in common is that we give our hearts in the act of giving. This giving could be obviously financial in nature, like Jesus’ invitation to the young man to sell all he possessed and give it to the poor. It might involve dropping all of our commitments and responsibilities for a season to care for a friend or family member in need. It could mean selling our house or giving up our job to be available for a new ministry of service. Or, it could mean working long hours to keep a house or job in order to provide a safe and loving environment for a child.

Spiritually, the outer form the giving takes is less important than the complete gift of self we offer, in love, to God. When we give our whole selves, we share in the self-emptying of Christ – and sharing in the life of Christ is the heart of Christian transformation.

When we give in this way, it opens our hearts, and love breaks forth in the world. It has little to do with how ‘effective’ our gift is in worldly terms. I’ve experienced this when I was a young man living in Malaysia and had the freedom to spend days hanging out and building relationships with people living on the streets. I’ve seen this love at work in the story of a monk who gave up his monastic enclosure for several years to act as a foster father to a couple of boys after their biological father had been incarcerated. I’ve felt it when a carpenter friend immediately set down his tools and left the job site when he learned I needed a ride to the hospital. I’ve witnessed it when an uncle left his family to spend the night and a day with his nephew who had relapsed on heroin, staying with him every waking hour until he could safely get to detox. I’ve seen it on a remote hiking trip, where a hiker in the backcountry gave the last of their food to another weary traveler, knowing they’ll have to fast for a few days as they continue their trek.

This same attitude is manifest in more dramatic form in the stories of the saints. St. Francis of Assisi kisses the leper, St. Maximillian Kolbe giving himself to the executioners at Auschwitz to free a fellow prisoner, and St. Mother Teresa spends a lifetime comforting the dying on the streets of Calcutta.

In each of these instances, there’s an expression of gratuitous love. These are not examples of what’s practical or even sustainable – they are examples of Christ’s love breaking through our ordinary human limits. When we experience Christ’s love within us, it has a quality of abundance and overflowing generosity. It’s the ardent love of a father who embraces his long-lost son at first sight, even after he squandered half of the father’s estate (Lk 15:11-32). It’s the reckless love of a shepherd who leaves behind ninety-nine sheep in a field to pursue the one who is lost (Luke 15:3-7). It’s the wild, abundant love of a landowner who gives a full day’s wage to laborers who only work one hour (Matthew 20:1-16). This is the spirit I believe we’re most called to pursue and cultivate in the Lenten practice of almsgiving. We can’t force ourselves to feel this kind of self-giving love within ourselves. But through the practices of fasting and prayer, we can place ourselves in a more open, receptive state where God can speak to our hearts. We can remember and meditate on the fact of God’s super-abundant, over-flowing love. We can examine our lives for the places where we’ve developed a false sense of scarcity and stinginess. We can pray to be like the widow – knowing both our own poverty and God’s great generosity, and to act and give accordingly. God’s generous love is far greater than anything we can generate by our own efforts, but when we die to our own will, Divine Love can flow through us with a power greater than our ordinary limits.

As we continue to journey with Christ through his Cross and Resurrection this Holy Week, may we open our hearts to his path of self-giving love.