Charity in the Age of Labor

God created with an abundance of gifts for us, his creation. Whenever we show compassion. it is our gift back to God, who gave us everything. Any time we withhold compassion, we are selfishly hoarding the gifts which were meant for all.

Selfishness is the opposite of love. Love, through compassion and charity, is the cure to the pain of the world, selfishness is the poison that causes it. Selfishness is a denial of responsibility to our fellow creation and the Love which created us. Claiming the gifts and beauties of the world as human possessions, rather than a gift, leaves us no room for gratitude.

It is a great selfishness, not only to take the gifts of the earth with no gratefulness, but also to claim we need no one other than ourselves. It is also a tragic ignorance, which in the end will only lead to despair. Humanism hopes to prove the pointlessness of gratitude because we are the only ones to credit for the beauty around us. Through our knowledge and our work we convince ourselves that we have accomplished everything.

In this reflection I wish to focus on this idea of work and how it affects our efforts of love. The concept and the values associated with work have changed a great deal over the ages, and particularly since the Industrial Revolution. Work is seen as a virtue much more so than previously. For some of us, work has virtually become our god.

We have come away from the class model of the past into the age of labor. No longer does a person born in poverty necessarily face an entire life in that state. The poor of the world has much greater hope of rising to a higher social level. That hope is far from certain, but it is much different than in previous centuries. Immigration to the Americas has been a big part of this process. Usually those who immigrate fail to realize the hope in their lifetimes, but through hard work and education, their children achieve a better life. The common theme is work. In this age we believe that despite any hardship, through work, humans can rise from one class to another.

We take this principal for granted now, but it is so foreign to the model of the middle ages and the ancient world. Then, work was considered a hardship. If you had to work, you were looked down on by those lucky enough not to, and conversely, the workers revered the rich… lazy and fruitless as their lives may have been.

Work has now become one of our most admired virtues, and for good reason. By working we propel forward the whole of humanity. In the past the working class ran the machine that supported the lives of both rich and poor. Now, all are expected to pitch in and run the machine of society. It is an amazing act of teamwork and unity. Think of how many people are affected by the work you do. And when you sit in the comfort of your home, think of how many people’s labor supports you right then: the builder of your house, the electrician who wired it, those who run your water and sewer, those who supplied the food for your last meal… the list could go on and on until you realize that literally every worker in the world is in some way connected. Rather than complaining about the need to work, we should take joy in our chance to be a part of the great human machine. We do not work for wages so much as that the human machine may continue. Wages are simply the means through which our work and the work of others are coordinated.

Work is an act of love. In your effort to provide a service to another you are giving a gift of your talent, and in paying another for their labor, you in turn accept their gift of talent. It is an exchange of love, which we all too often disguise as an exchange of greed. The greatest greed is to willingly extricate oneself from this beautiful human machine, accepting the gifts of others yet giving none of our own gifts in return. So work with joy, in whatever you do, for by your work you are loving all those who with you spend their days in labor, and they, at the same time, are loving you.

The rise of the merchant class began to make the loving exchange of work more fair. So did the manufacturing boom of the late nineteenth century, which suddenly required huge quantities of human labor. For many years, manufacturing labor was only a small step ahead of slavery, but the difference was hope. And over time the middle class has become the dominant economic force in much of the world. No longer do the many labor for the comfort of the few.

Even those of us who complain about our work intrinsically know this principal. If we live in fair labor societies we are thankful for our work when we observe societies that have none. And we lack respect for those who do not work, choosing to live off the work of others. Certainly we would all prefer to do work we enjoy, or that which we feel best utilizes our creativity and talents, but we know that any work is better than depending solely on the work of others. (This is not to pass any judgement on those who may not work for wages, such as the parent who stays at home while the other works outside the home. There are many ways to work, and sometimes the work that does not trade in money is the hardest and most virtuous work of all!)

I have no patience for those who compute wage-earning to slavery. Many of the modern generation of middle-class Americans make this connection. How often do we hear someone say they are waiting to “find their path” or find work that “fulfills them,” while in the present they live off the work of others—their parents or other loved ones, the government, or simply charity. How quickly they will learn once they have a loved one depending on them, that that dependence is “their path!”

Much as we may sometimes complain about it, we all recognize the love of work and are thankful not to live in times or places where this exchange was not allowed. But where has this left the world’s poor?

Our elevation of the virtue of work has in some measure devalued in our minds the virtue of charity. In this age we have come to pass judgement on the poor. The beggar asking for alms in the plaza is seen as lazy. Why doesn’t he go out and work instead of taking from those who do? In our modern society we have already passed judgement on the beggar’s misfortune before we seek to know anything about him.

We look at history’s great advocates of charity and separate ourselves from their times. Certainly Buddha did great work for the poor, but he lived at a time when the poor were cut off from the wealthy for their whole lives. Jesus was an advocate of the unfortunate, but in a time of polarized economic classes and strong nationalistic prejudices. We can admire the work of St. Francis of Assisi, who though born with wealth sold all he had to give to the poor, but we separate ourselves saying the poor do not need our charity, but rather the justice of consequence, and the opportunity to rise.

In his first encyclical, Deus Caritas Est, Pope Benedict XVI touches on this issue which comes from the relationship between capital and labor in the fabric of society. Now that labor is the primary means of capital, we are reluctant to give capital (alms) without requiring work. And thus, charity is now often disregarded as a thing of the past.

With the fall of the class system, and the rise of greater social programs, affluent people often lose their feeling of obligation to help those in need. We can look at the example of Jesus or Buddha and respect their charitable work from a safe distance for, we will point out, at their times class determined wealth and poverty. Of course it was virtuous for the wealthy to have pity on the poor, for the wealthy did nothing to deserve their wealth, nor the poor their poverty. Now days, by contrast, wealth is associated with work, while poverty is associated with laziness. Few would admit feeling this way when put so point-blankly, but if we examine our hearts truthfully we will realize that this prejudice is so deeply rooted in our collective consciousness that we cannot escape it.

You may argue that it is often true! Perhaps you are right. But when did Jesus, Buddha, or any moral teacher tell us to be compassionate to those who deserved compassion? No, we are called to be compassionate toward all!

We think we only gained what we have through our labor, our own abilities, and we look down upon those who fail to work as hard. Perhaps we will send some money to a third world country to satisfy our conscience with the charitable work we are supporting, but do not ask us to help the poor in our own city. In giving them alms we fear to support their career of laziness, and teach them it is okay not to step into humanity’s machine of work. (Deus Caritas est)

This is our excuse and we put the teachers of charity safely in their historical context. But whoever does this has not really looked closely at the words of either Jesus or Buddha, neither of whom said flatly “give to the poor,” but rather, “give to those who need it,” or more profoundly, “give to those who ask.” Jesus makes no distinction in his call to charity. The same commandment is given to the rich man as to the slave. While the rich man is called to sell all he has and give to the poor (Matthew 19:21), the slave is told to work hard for his master! (Luke 12:43) Jesus’ message is no less pertinent in today’s age of labor than it was at the time he gave it.

How are we to know what led the beggar we spurn to his position today? And whatever the causes, who are we to judge? It is a fine line that separates us from him! Even if it is simply laziness, perhaps our generosity will be an inspiration to him. If we must judge him then we should also take it upon ourselves to help him grow to a better life. If we do not have the time or energy to help, then we must give of what we have—be it alms, or only a smile and warm greeting. This can do more good than we know.

There is a gross fallacy in the way we claim to our wealth as earned by our work—the sweat of our proverbial brow. It is the gift of those who came before us, who pioneered this age of labor that we now have the right to work for our own gain. In past centuries, unless you were one of the privileged few, you would have worked your whole life and never accumulated any wealth. So next time you feel so accomplished for the strides you have made in business, think of those who preceded you by a few short generations; think of their toil and the gift it was to you. I would warrant to guess, as hard as you may work, that they worked harder, in less comfort, with no personal gain but for the hope of their descendents. Make them proud by honoring their gift.

This brings us back to the points of selfishness and gratitude. Just as it is selfish and arrogant to ignore the one who gave us life, so it is wrong to claim our success as completely our own. Could we have lived such a life, and provided such change for future generations, as did these men and women, our own ancestors, who came before us? Their work is our gift. Our charity is our gratitude.

This age of labor, while giving us the chance to step into the human machine, realizing our dreams through work, has also equipped many of us with a “high horse,” with which we in clear conscience ignore the suffering of those around us. Work is love, but with work we must not ignore the other forms love takes, or our obligation to ease suffering by sharing the beauty which was so freely given to us.

I am as guilty as anyone at sometimes resenting those who do not work; but though I wish to teach the value of work to those who do not understand it, that is no excuse to forego compassion. I have used the example of giving alms to beggars as our way of sharing our gifts with those less fortunate, but this is simply the easiest, though least useful way we can help those in need. By sharing of ourselves we will benefit the lives of the needy in a much more profound way. If we complain that we do not have the time, then give alms. If we complain that the beggar does not deserve alms, then give time. But whatever you give, give love.

Heed, therefore, the call to charity, even while you follow your drive to work. I doubt Jesus or Buddha would have taught any differently on how we should respond to poverty if they were here today than they did thousands of years ago. The Pope’s encyclical, while pointing out our era’s aversion to charity, directed his challenge primarily to religious charitable organizations. Of course in his position he must issue this challenge, yet the work of charitable organizations do not get us off the hook, no matter how much we may support and donate to them. The work of charity is everyone’s job, to be done whenever and wherever the need is presented to us. We have a responsibility to our maker, a responsibility of compassion for everyone who shares with us the beautiful image of God.

How can we presume to think that we deserve the gifts we have been given? Do we deserve what we have more than the beggar we worked to avoid? Do I, born in the excessively affluent United States, deserve the right to work for wealth and comfort more than one born in a country which grants not this freedom and opportunity? Do we even deserve our sobriety more than the man addicted to drugs or alcohol? How close could I be, with his opportunities, to where he is, or he me? How many degrees of separation really exist between us?

And what if I should fall into a state of poverty, ill-health, drunkenness or insanity? Would I not long for compassion? Or if not something so extreme, perhaps we simply need to feel the kindness of another human heart. Where will others be, unless we showed compassion to them? Who will come to us in our need if we never came to the aid of others? Charity should not have to be a loan, but we will certainly find more willing donors of it if we gave it freely when we had the chance.

Compassion and love take practice, but they are more fulfilling by far than those who do not practice them realize. By exercising kindness to the community of humanity we are in fact being more true to our natures than if we did not. The Dalai Lama says “that basic human nature is more disposed toward compassion and affection. Basic human nature is gentle, not aggressive or violent.” (The Good Heart, chap 2) We will feel more true to ourselves if we practice this goodness. It takes a greater effort to withhold love than it takes to give it. Our natures are loving, so why do we so reluct to behave thus?

To conclude the present reflection, while work is one of our greatest acts of love, and the means by which we enter the communal effort of humanity, we must pass no judgement on those who, for whatever reason, do not work. If it is by laziness, their judgement will come from within, not from our lack of compassion. If anything, our compassion can help them to achieve a better state. Our work is a gift to humanity, but our ability to work is a gift to us, so we have no right to grasp it as our own. Only by giving can we truly possess.

5: Community

This is the final chapter in HUMANÆ DESIDERIÆ, a philosophical inquiry into human longing. The earlier chapters can be viewed here:

1: Perception & Reality
2: Human Desire
3: The Nature of Truth
4: Morality

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Morality is truly our path to lasting joy, through the good we do toward one another. Through the principles of community we see that by doing good for others, by extension, we are doing good for ourselves. Yet we do not always take seriously just how important the good of our community is to each one of us.

The community of the human race, as we have seen, is the primary thing that validates our own reality. Without the interaction of others, we lose a grasp on ourselves. We truly need one another on a very basic level. Humanity has a great fear of being alone. Other than death, this may be our greatest fear, and indeed, much of our fear of death is connected to the fear of loneliness. Since the beginning of our history we have sought one another in community.

Companionship has been vital to the survival of our race. From the intimate (marriage, family) to the local (clan, tribe, or in modern times, co-workers and groups of friends) to the national and finally global levels, we rely on one another for success, and we expect others to behave in predictable ways. Part of this network comes from our acceptance of moral law. The reality is that we need one another. Our lives are intertwined in a fantastic and beautiful framework. Think of how we count on the work that others do, even as they count on our own work. The community of our groups and cities and globe work so smoothly that we take it for granted. But if one chain is broken, chaos ensues, leading to strikes, riots, famine, and war.

From this perspective, our work—our participation in the community of our world, is perhaps our most basic act of love. By providing our talents to the community, we give a gift, and accept the gift of another. It is a simple exchange of love. On a personal level, companionship is one of our greatest comforts, and the loss of it is a dreadful fear. We value our families and friends, even our mere acquaintances so much and greatly bemoan their loss. If other people are this important to us, then it must be recognized that the good of the community equates directly to our own good. We recognized earlier that love is the greatest of all human desires. Ironically, it is one desire which we cannot possibly achieve on our own. Love necessitates another. And only by giving love do we begin to receive love. Thus, the ability to give, the inclination toward unselfishness is the only way to come into possession of our greatest desire.

Because of our great dependence on love, we are necessarily a community people. Community provides both accountability and the opportunity to love. My acts of love benefit the community, and the community has tremendous power to refresh and renew me. This is true at every level of relationship, from the intimate to the global. With a spouse or lover, love is never complete until both parties give equally of themselves to the other. In the offering of oneself, love can be fulfilled. In friendship, nobody will put up with a friend only interested in himself. One must offer friendship before it can be reciprocated. In the community, this trade takes the form of compassion. We are all in the community of humanity together. If one person suffers, the rest must recognize that fact with compassion. In many cases, the suffering of the unfortunate can be directly traced to the selfishness of the fortunate. In our compassion and in our charity, we should recognize that we could just as easily be on the other side of the relationship. There is a thin line between those who need charity and those who give it. And the forces that may hold us in the more prosperous place are extremely fickle.

If we resent giving charity now, when we are able, who will be there to help us when we are thrown into poverty or despair? Compassion and charity are two way streets, even though our place may often seem to be only on one side or the other. Our whole lives may be spent on only one side of the street, but we never know. Things can change quickly. If we have lived selfishly, who will have sympathy for us in our need? If we do not give charity when we are able, who will give us alms when we are compelled to beg?

In every sense, love must be given if it is to be received. With individuals, our love is reciprocated with companionship and comfort. In the larger community, love is displayed through charity and compassion.

If our longing is fulfilled by giving love, then equally important is being able to open ourselves up to receive the love of others. Our pride often makes us reluctant to accept the very love which we know will satisfy our longing. If we are not able to accept love when it is given to us, we are doing all the work without claiming the reward. Learning to accept charity, generosity, and love can be hard, but the reward is wonderful. In no other way can we come closer to fulfilling our transcendental desires here on earth. In no other way can we fully experience the beauty which we seek so fiercely, than in love. Love is communion— it cannot be experienced alone. It exists between friends, lovers, or even strangers who treat each other with goodness and charity. Love is void without another to share it.

An example of the necessary give and take of charity was when Jesus washed the feet of his friends. In the culture of that time, a teacher would never have done this for his disciples. Peter’s response of “Lord, you will never wash my feet!” is what we would expect them all to say. This would have really been quite a scandal. But Jesus did this for two specific reasons: first, to show them that to be great in love, one must offer loving service to others. Secondly, as he told Peter, you must be able to accept the love which is offered to you. “You call me Teacher and Lord,” he told them, “and you are right, for that is what I am. So if I, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also ought to wash one another’s feet. For I have set you an example, that you also should do as I have done to you.” (John 13: 13-15) Nor was even Judas, his betrayer, excluded from the love of foot-washing. If Jesus could do such a service for the one whom he knew would betray him to his death, should we not also be able to do such a service for one another? Community is truly the give and take—the two way street—of love, generosity and charity.

What does religion mean in the context of community? Religion offers us a community of people, sharing love, and holding one another accountable as they strive to follow a shared morality. Religion recognizes how the morality we discussed in the previous chapter benefit both the individual and the whole. Without the structure of religion, and the support of the community, it is easy for one to lose track of the moral code which this group has recognized as the method of achieving our transcendental desires. Accountability and community are the fundamental reasons for the importance of religion. It may be possible to follow the path of love and charity, and to point ourselves toward our divine aspirations without religion, but it is far more difficult.

Through the shared principles of morality within religion–and the greatest of all morals is love— religion has become a vessel of charity in the world. The very first Christian writer, St. Paul, identified charity as one of the pre-eminent tasks of the church as an institution. “As you excel in everything,” he told the Corinthians, “so we want you to excel also in this generous undertaking.” He commends the Macedonian church for “voluntarily giving according to their means, and even beyond their means.” (II Corin. 8:3,7). The church of the immediately succeeding centuries well understood the place of charitable works in the very validity of the church. During the persecution in the Third Century of Christians in Rome, Deacon Lawrence was ordered to hand over all the treasure of the church to the authorities. Lawrence distributed all the church’s funds to the poor and then presented the poor themselves as the real treasure of the church. (St. Ambrose: De officiis ministrorum. II, 28, 140)

In the first days of Christianity, charity was fundamental to life as a follower of Jesus. We are told that they lived for awhile in an ideal community, for “there was not a needy person among them, for as many as owned lands or houses sold them and brought the proceeds of what was sold. They laid it at the apostles’ feet, and it was distributed to each as any had need.” (Acts 4:34-35). Christianity has not changed so much since that time. Our community is larger, but we are still compelled to live with love and charity toward those who share this name. As the centuries have unfolded, organized charity has become one of the fundamental works of a church body. Thus did the Catholic Church establish the first hospitals and the first orphanages in the world. And today it takes a leading role in disaster relief, and the effort to ease hunger in the world.

Pope Benedict XVI, in Part II of his encyclical, Deus Caritas Est, gives strong and challenging support to those working in charitable organizations under the name of the Church, following the first example of the apostles, that “all who believed were together and had all things in common.” (Acts 2:44). By these words it is inconceivable to selfishly hold back charity from those in our community. His predecessor, Pope John Paul II makes a clear distinction between the work carried out by the community as a whole (charitable organizations), which involves “larger tasks, requiring cooperation and the use of technical means, [and] no less valuable–individual activity, especially by people who are better prepared for it in regard to the various kinds of human suffering which can only be alleviated in an individual or personal way.” (Salvifici Doloris, VII, 29). While a community (the church) has an intrinsic role in, to use John Paul’s definition, “the work of human solidarity,” we must each be equally prepared to give our love at a moment’s notice when it is called for, in the same way that we would hope for others to give it in our own time of need.

Love is the greatest desire of our hearts. Every person with whom we share the human condition is a potential vessel of love. We can unlock this love through a vigilance of compassion, readying ourselves for charity whenever and wherever the need arises.

But although love is our greatest human desire, a blessing we value even more than life itself, our search for it so often leaves us empty. Even if we are diligent in the love we give, vigilant in compassion, and generous with the charity we offer to those in need, we may not be reciprocated the love we desire. Without a hope for a life beyond, even these virtues can lead us to despair. But by believing in a God who created us out of love, we hope that our death will bring us into a perfect experience of love, and a perfect community which we will share with all the saints.

Yet even on earth, where the reward of virtue is unfairly skewed, love, charity and compassion are the closest answers we will find to achieving our transcendental desire. There truly is no substitute for the comfort and companionship of human love, and the camaraderie of a caring community. No other of our dreams and ambitions find satisfaction in as tangible a way as love. Without love, religion is vain. Without love, life is vain.

IN CONCLUSION

To conclude the present inquiry, we have seen that whether speaking in science or philosophy, we must continually remember that ultimately our discussion must relate to what is real. We know what is real through our perceptions and our interactions with those who share in the community of humanity. Through this knowledge, and through the scientific principles of evolution and physical symmetry, we can be sure that our transcendental desires such as hope and love, may also be treated as real. Thus it is not foolish to have a hope for something greater than our present experience.

We have looked at the relationship between faith and truth, understanding that the two must embrace one another, whether in religion, philosophy or science. Indeed, the present distancing of the three fields named is the work of recent times, and ideally, the three must be linked if any is to succeed. Faith is to truth what theory is to experiment. Our faithful search for truth leads us to believe that there is such a thing as absolute truth, whether or not we will find it in this life, and this knowledge leads us to believe in a moral law.

The efforts we have made to experience pleasure and beauty have left us unfulfilled. By breaking the morality we so often despise, we end up more despairing than before. Only by practicing morality, and entering into the communion of love, do we find satiation for our desire.

Whether morality is given only by religion, or is learned through culture and our observance of the long term good of the community, it cannot be argued that morality is good for humanity as a whole. And this necessitates our respect for community. On all levels of relationship, from the intimate to the global, the community of other human beings is vital to our success, and the closest we may come to achieving our transcendental desires in this life. Through love we see that the only way to gain our greatest desire, is first to give. This may be considered morality at its most basic level. The reciprocation of love is our closest experience to heaven on earth. Yet even human love so often disappoints, leading us to sorrow and despair. Thus, we are promised that our love will be reciprocated, that the life beyond holds a greater promise of love than we can possibly imagine. The answer to all our transcendental desires waits in the loving embrace of God.