Originally posted at RevGalBlogPals.
This
past Sunday, I read The Sparkle Box
to a group of children. The premise behind this book is that a family notes the
things they do to help other people during the Christmas season. They write
down their efforts- donating to blankets, funding a well, giving mittens- and
put the slips of paper in a sparkly box under the tree. Their deeds are their
gift to Jesus on his birthday.
As
I read the story to the kids, who were very engaged, I also explained how we
could do this kind of thing, not just at Christmas, but also during any time of
the year. Even as I spoke, I watched the reactions of parents. I could see some
who were nodded and interested. I could also see those who were skeptical and
some who frowned.
I
knew some of the frowners wanted to point out that the man who was sleeping in
the park could have made better choices, that food distribution goes to support
“welfare queens”, that building wells doesn’t help people change their system
or their behavior. We have moved from understanding “charity” not to be
associated with caritas (Latin:
costliness, esteem, affection), but to be something that is anathema to many,
including those who might give and those who might receive.
We
argue about enabling, about worthiness, about “feel-good” measures. We lament
and, often, we become resigned to systems and ways of thinking that seem
unchangeable. Injustice and a culture of death seem insurmountable. Thus,
charity becomes something we all wrestle with, that causes mixed feelings, that
is never elevated to the caritas and
mutual benefit that is the desire of God- when we are commanded and commended
to the care of the poor.
This
week was filled with gushing commentary on Evangelii
Gaudium, the urgent letter from Pope Francis to clergy, religious, and all
people of faith in the world. Some people could not say enough about the
letter, which lifted up the plight of the poor, urged joy in evangelism, and
encouraged a posture of reason and rationality among the Church’s faithful. Others
howled that the letter encouraged “Marxism” and denounced capitalism.
Pope
Francis never mentions capitalism at all, but instead speaks firmly and
forcefully against the way that money has come to possess our minds and habits,
rather than being a tool of or for them. The pursuit of money causes people,
churches, governments, and nations to trample over what is perceived as weak or
weakness. The greater gain triumphs over the greater good.
In
abandoning caritas, we reject the
truth of Mary’s Magnificat- that God
can, has, and will bring down those who are in high places and lift up the
lowly. God’s desire and plan is for those who are hungry to feast and for those
who are wealthy to learn what it means to do without. We grow used to hearing
arguments about people who “don’t try” or who “game the system”. We feel
frustrated by the assumptions we make about the people around us, without
knowing their whole story. Exhausted by what seems to be a never-ending need,
we start to dial back our efforts- certain that the problem can never be fixed.
Pope
Francis writes:
Realities are more important than ideas[1]
231. There also exists a constant tension between ideas and realities. Realities simply are, whereas ideas are worked out. There has to be continuous dialogue between the two, lest ideas become detached from realities. It is dangerous to dwell in the realm of words alone, of images and rhetoric. So a third principle comes into play: realities are greater than ideas. This calls for rejecting the various means of masking reality: angelic forms of purity, dictatorships of relativism, empty rhetoric, objectives more ideal than real, brands of ahistorical fundamentalism, ethical systems bereft of kindness, intellectual discourse bereft of wisdom.
232. Ideas – conceptual elaborations – are at the service of communication, understanding, and praxis. Ideas disconnected from realities give rise to ineffectual forms of idealism and nominalism, capable at most of classifying and defining, but certainly not calling to action. What calls us to action are realities illuminated by reason. Formal nominalism has to give way to harmonious objectivity. Otherwise, the truth is manipulated, cosmetics take the place of real care for our bodies… We have politicians – and even religious leaders – who wonder why people do not understand and follow them, since their proposals are so clear and logical. Perhaps it is because they are stuck in the realm of pure ideas and end up reducing politics or faith to rhetoric. Others have left simplicity behind and have imported a rationality foreign to most people.
233. Realities are greater than ideas. This principle has to do with incarnation of the word and its being put into practice: “By this you know the Spirit of God: every spirit that confesses that Jesus Christ is come in the flesh is from God” (1 Jn 4:2). The principle of reality, of a word already made flesh and constantly striving to take flesh anew, is essential to evangelization. It helps us to see that the Church’s history is a history of salvation, to be mindful of those saints who inculturated the Gospel in the life of our peoples and to reap the fruits of the Church’s rich bimillennial tradition, without pretending to come up with a system of thought detached from this treasury, as if we wanted to reinvent the Gospel. At the same time, this principle impels us to put the word into practice, to perform works of justice and charity which make that word fruitful. Not to put the word into practice, not to make it reality, is to build on sand, to remain in the realm of pure ideas and to end up in a lifeless and unfruitful self-centredness and gnosticism.
Dealing
with reality is more important that holding onto ideals that never come to
fruition. Where have we seen this in practice? Certainly this principle was
visible in the work and life of Nelson Mandela. Had he simply held that
apartheid was evil and should be ended, without acknowledging the serious work
that would be part of tearing down that practice, it might well continue today.
If
Mandela had said, “We need to come together,” but never donned the soccer
jersey and strode onto the field during the World Cup in 1995, his ideals would
have been nothing more than symbolic. His willingness to put into practice, to
live out what he hoped would become true exactly undergirds what Pope Francis
is explaining now: a failure to heed realities makes a mockery of truth.
Certainly
Advent is a season of acknowledging reality. We wonder if Jesus is really
returning. We are no longer certain that peace can happen in our lifetimes. We
despair that anything will be better for our children. We are resigned that our
efforts to improve the plight of the poor actually makes any difference.
The
difference between charity and caritas
is the difference between the idea and the reality. The idea behind charity, as
we have come to say the word today, is improving the situation of our
neighbors. The reality of charity is that the improvement is usually short-term
and rarely (but sometimes!) systemic.
The
idea behind caritas is a lifting of
all boats, a growth in understanding of our neighbors, a genuine sharing of
what is deep, essential, and costly. The reality of caritas is that, when lived out, everyone can participate. Every
person can give of what is costly to him or herself for the sake of neighbors,
for the sake of the world, for the sake of Christ. Caritas is what brings ideas into being new realities. Caritas is what works to end oppression,
division, and strife. Caritas is how
God brings the kingdom through our hands. Caritas
goes beyond the sparkle box to the manger to where God’s ideals of mercy and
grace became the reality of Emmanuel. To again quote Pope Francis, and to
channel Nelson Mandela: Caritas… “Not to put the word into practice, not to
make it reality, is to build on sand, to remain in the realm of pure ideas and
to end up in a lifeless and unfruitful self-centredness and [ignorance of
material truths]”.
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