On Giving and Receivingby Todd Billings"I was just at church, and they were praying for the homeless," Larry said, holding the day's belongings in a bag beside him. As the subway screeched to a halt, I heard him quip, "I decided that I should pray for the housed." Larry was sick of handouts, sick of condescension. To Larry, as a longtime guest at the homeless shelter at which I worked, Christian compassion seemed like little more than a masquerade, a power trip for those fortunate enough to be in the seat of the "giver" rather than the "receiver."
Larry's complaint about Christian compassion resonates with Friedrich Nietzsche's depiction in
Thus Spoke Zarathustra. Through the voice of Zarathustra, Nietzsche diagnoses Christian compassion as "pity"—a belittling, demeaning approach to the sufferer that shames rather than restores. Sufferers do not want pity, according to Nietzsche; they don't even want solidarity, when it comes from people descending from on high to be with the sufferer below. Sufferers also want to be givers. To only receive and never to give is to be dehumanized, to be belittled.
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FOR THIS QUESTION, it is wise to look at how scripture was brought to life in a time of famine, disease, and suffering. In the fourth century, a famine struck the Cappadocian region in Asia Minor, and leaders such as Basil of Caesarea and Gregory of Nyssa sought a Christian response to the tragedy. Basil boldly challenged the rich, who "would rather burst themselves eating than leave a crumb for the hungry." The rich must empty their storehouses and give to the poor.
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However, while Basil's approach to poverty was important and necessary, his brother Gregory provides a way of embodying Matthew 25 that comes closer to addressing Larry's concern. For Gregory, a key issue is how Christians respond to the outcast. In Cappadocia at the time, leprosy was a medical and social cause for alienation. "Touch a leper, and you'll be contaminated," the thought went. Touch a leper, and you'll become a leper yourself. So lepers must stay separated. Those who give charitably must give at a distance. They must give handouts of food and clothing, out of pity for the sufferers.
Gregory starts by trying to break down the distance between the healthy and the diseased. Rather than just seeing the sick and deformed limbs of lepers, we should recognize the common humanity we share with the suffering: "Do not consider as strangers those beings who partake of our nature;" for "remember who you are and on whom you contemplate: a human person like yourself, whose basic nature is no different than your own," he wrote. "Don't count too heavily on the future. In condemning the sickness that preys on the body of this man, you fail to consider whether you might be, in the process, condemning yourself and all nature." We all share the same human nature. Thus, to condemn the sick and the starving is to condemn the body, to condemn one's own self.
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Gregory shows us how Matthew 25 need not lead to condescending pity. It can do the opposite: It can awaken an apathetic church to realize that it needs to touch the hungry, the stranger, and the prisoner if it is to have its own spiritual diseases healed. This will not lead to our own contamination. Rather, it will lead us to the humility of learning to receive from the poor as we give to the poor, to receive from the outsider as we give to the outsider. The kingdom is not about handouts. The kingdom is about a banquet! Not just the poor, but all of us will be receivers in God's banquet.
J. Todd Billings is assistant professor of reformed theology at Western Theological Seminary in Holland, Michigan. He was on staff at First Church Shelter in Cambridge, Massachusetts, for five years while working on his Th.D. at Harvard.http://www.sojo.net/index.cfm?action=magazine.article&issue=soj0704&article=070423