But since you excel in everything . . .

It takes time, time and more time . . .

. . . and many cups of Turkish coffee.

 But since you excel in everything—in faith, in speech, in knowledge, in complete earnestness and in the love we have kindled in you—see that you also excel in this grace of giving. (II Corinthians 8:7)

To excel in the grace of giving. II Corinthians 8 is an appeal to the generosity that ought to result from the blessings of “faith . . . knowledge . . . love” and a zeal kindled by the gospel of Jesus Christ. The Corinthian Church included persons with means, persons with good educations, a people who had been extraordinarily blessed.

But privilege doesn’t automatically result in generosity; Paul’s admonitions in this chapter imply that there’s a glaring omission in the Corinthian community: they have members who have and members who don’t have, and equity ought to characterize the fellowship.

Our desire is not that others might be relieved while you are hard pressed, but that there might be equality. At the present time your plenty will supply what they need, so that in turn their plenty will supply what you need. The goal is equality, as it is written: “The one who gathered much did not have too much, and the one who gathered little did not have too little.” (8:13 – 15)

So that’s how people who share the faith ought to regulate their material lives if they’re to be true Christian communities. In principle, we get that. In practice, not so much. Like the culture that surrounds us, we are characterized by inequality in material goods and services. Much as we like to tout our generosity, our desire to excel in a competitive environment is one of our strongest motivations.

But—you might well argue—it’s not as straightforward as Paul describes it if applied in our global, industrial, technological world. Every portion of scripture was born and grew inside a bubble, after all. The Old Testament is a dialogue inside Hebrew reality; the New Testament hints at the enlargement of the bubble but is nevertheless a conversation inside an environment that doesn’t give so much as a nod to hundreds of other civilizations all around the globe; how could it be otherwise? That North America already had cultures that were thousands of years old wasn’t known until fifteen centuries later, for example.

And as if it weren’t hard enough to realize generous, equitable community in such a bubble or in a contained church community, how can we ever get a handle on its workings on the global-village scale?

Just a few observations:

• Generosity appears to be a learned—but persistent—mindset in a minority of the population. On the other side, the fear-supported impulse to hoard and acquire is a majority worldview. Having lends an illusion of safety in an apparently dangerous world. Like a Trump wall, substantial, secure living conditions defend against whatever “Mexican rapists and criminals” are out there.
• Generosity is risky. What I feel OK to give away today might in some future recession or disaster have come in very handy. Generous people can afford to be risk-takers only because they have faith, a confidence that "there is nothing that can separate them from the love of God." Although wars and disasters would be as painful to them as to anyone, they don’t live lives governed by imagined catastrophe.
• Strategies for avoiding calls for generosity are well established: 1) don’t go where there’s need or pain and no one will ask you for help; 2) assume that the recipient of your largesse will just piss it away and beg for more; 3) convince yourself that generosity simply breeds indolence, propagates dependency; 4) lament the many appeals for help in emails and on the web, in your mailbox and on your telephone and effectively toss them all into the same bin because there’s no way all can be supported. Armed with such an array of excuses, chintziness can easily be recast as a virtue.
• Surely generosity is not just about giving stuff, though. Seems to me it’s more meaningfully seen as a spiritual attribute resting on a foundation of empathy. Generosity in listening, in patient teaching, in the offering of our presence and our sharing of others’ burdens, in our ability to radiate unconditional love may, in the end, be far more significant than the writing of cheques to noble causes.

Some of us are heavily involved right now in the resettlement in Rosthern of a small Syrian refugee family. There are daily frustrations requiring adjustments to our expectations; refugees bring with them a whole culture of learned behaviours that can be both strange and counter-productive measured by our own set of values. We talk a lot about money: what budget will prepare them for the rigours of self-sufficiency later, for instance.

But it’s not at that level that needs are greatest. We already see trust growing and bonding happening as we get to know them and they to know us. And that doesn’t come with a cheque; it’s the generosity of spirit that urges us to spend time, much time nurturing them through a very difficult transition that will continue to be critical for a long time to come.

Paul’s appeal to generosity, to the goal of equality, is highly relevant at all times but for us, right now, it rings a clarion bell. Refugees are under us in so many ways; our generosity is the tool that will restore equity so we and they will live beside each other in harmony. Or not, if we lose our zeal. 

Everyone shaded by his own fig tree, sort of.

To excel in the grace of giving.