This Christmas, buy someone's table
My grandmother was a wonderful woman. She loved to watch the X-Files and NHL hockey, especially when the Habs were playing, she eagerly discussed topics like current events in the world and the Church and would play Bob Dylan's "Desire" as musical comfort food. She often paraphrased St. Augustine towards her smoking habit -- which she finally kicked at her cardiologist's insistence -- "Lord, make me quit smoking, but not yet." She devoutly wore her Scapular and made the best pancakes I've ever had.
She was also one of the most generous women I know.
Her home was always a hub for her children and grandchildren, and their friends and significant others. If a racoon stumbled onto her porch, in her house in the city, she insisted on feeding it, instead of shooing it away.
And that's just what I experienced first-hand.
The stories my aunts and uncles and mom have shared with me about their mom from when they were growing up are awe-inspiring. She raised a large family with very little money and a whole lot of determination, and despite how tight things were for her, she always willing to help others.
One of my favourite stories that illustrates this was told to me by my aunt.
Several days before Christmas, a woman who was also raising her family in military housing came and asked my grandmother is she wanted to buy a small table. My grandmother had no need of such a table, and certainly had no money to spare, but it was understood, although unspoken, between these two women that the one selling the table was in an especially hard place that Christmas. She desperately needed the money. So my grandmother bought the table from her, and that woman was able to buy presents, or pay some bills, or fill her table with festive foods -- whatever it was she needed the money for -- without having to experience the humiliation of literally begging for money.
The table stayed in my grandmother's house until she died, and the aunt who shared the story with me dearly wanted it after her mother passed on, to keep the memory alive of my Nana's generosity.
I have been reflecting on this story, and it has inspired me as Christmas approaches. While we are reminded so often, and rightfully so, to give generously, at Christmas time, I think too many people get trapped in two unfortunate extremes -- of giving what we want to give, rather than what is needed (like this article reminds us; food banks are much better served by giving cash than canned goods).
I can't help but think people in their good intentions still somehow think that "the poor" should be grateful for whatever. As though they, too, don't appreciate beauty, or more accurately, need beauty, like everyone else.
The Franciscan Friars of the Renewal regularly remind their donors that to give the poor their castoffs is to insult them. It boxes in a group of people as "other" in a most insulting way.
In reality, it is not "charity" to give food to someone who does not have enough. It is mere justice.
This isn't, of course, to say we shouldn't give to those in need. Especially at Christmas, when the opulent lifestyle's of some are so evident, while the hardships of others become equally, painfully, apparent, we must be generous with what we have.
What I suggest, though, is to give in a way that is more human, where we are more aware of the humanity of the person or people to whom we are giving.
Catherine Doherty's Little Mandate says "Arise -- go! Sell all you possess. Give it directly, personally to the poor." While most of us are not called to literally sell all we possess, we can take from this message a need to reach out to the poor in a meaningful, personal encounter.
We shouldn't wait until they beg. We should reach out as soon as we see a need. Best yet, we should do so like my grandmother -- to elevate the giving, and to respect the dignity of the person on the receiving end. We should buy someone's table, not "donate" old jackets where the zipper no longer works.
This Christmas, buy someone's table.
Her home was always a hub for her children and grandchildren, and their friends and significant others. If a racoon stumbled onto her porch, in her house in the city, she insisted on feeding it, instead of shooing it away.
And that's just what I experienced first-hand.
The stories my aunts and uncles and mom have shared with me about their mom from when they were growing up are awe-inspiring. She raised a large family with very little money and a whole lot of determination, and despite how tight things were for her, she always willing to help others.
One of my favourite stories that illustrates this was told to me by my aunt.
Several days before Christmas, a woman who was also raising her family in military housing came and asked my grandmother is she wanted to buy a small table. My grandmother had no need of such a table, and certainly had no money to spare, but it was understood, although unspoken, between these two women that the one selling the table was in an especially hard place that Christmas. She desperately needed the money. So my grandmother bought the table from her, and that woman was able to buy presents, or pay some bills, or fill her table with festive foods -- whatever it was she needed the money for -- without having to experience the humiliation of literally begging for money.
The table stayed in my grandmother's house until she died, and the aunt who shared the story with me dearly wanted it after her mother passed on, to keep the memory alive of my Nana's generosity.
Me and my grandmother at Christmas, circa 1986
I've said it before, but I'll say it again, our baby is named after her in a circuitous way: Elijah (after "Carmel", her name) and "Benedict" -- she was born on his feast day)
I've said it before, but I'll say it again, our baby is named after her in a circuitous way: Elijah (after "Carmel", her name) and "Benedict" -- she was born on his feast day)
I have been reflecting on this story, and it has inspired me as Christmas approaches. While we are reminded so often, and rightfully so, to give generously, at Christmas time, I think too many people get trapped in two unfortunate extremes -- of giving what we want to give, rather than what is needed (like this article reminds us; food banks are much better served by giving cash than canned goods).
I can't help but think people in their good intentions still somehow think that "the poor" should be grateful for whatever. As though they, too, don't appreciate beauty, or more accurately, need beauty, like everyone else.
The Franciscan Friars of the Renewal regularly remind their donors that to give the poor their castoffs is to insult them. It boxes in a group of people as "other" in a most insulting way.
In reality, it is not "charity" to give food to someone who does not have enough. It is mere justice.
This isn't, of course, to say we shouldn't give to those in need. Especially at Christmas, when the opulent lifestyle's of some are so evident, while the hardships of others become equally, painfully, apparent, we must be generous with what we have.
What I suggest, though, is to give in a way that is more human, where we are more aware of the humanity of the person or people to whom we are giving.
Catherine Doherty's Little Mandate says "Arise -- go! Sell all you possess. Give it directly, personally to the poor." While most of us are not called to literally sell all we possess, we can take from this message a need to reach out to the poor in a meaningful, personal encounter.
We shouldn't wait until they beg. We should reach out as soon as we see a need. Best yet, we should do so like my grandmother -- to elevate the giving, and to respect the dignity of the person on the receiving end. We should buy someone's table, not "donate" old jackets where the zipper no longer works.
This Christmas, buy someone's table.
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