"Give all thou canst"--William Wordsworth

When I was in my second year at APU, I met a student named Lena.  Born in the USSR (modern-day Uzbekistan), Lena is fluent in Russian, which she speaks with her five siblings and parents.  While Lena and I initially bonded over rock-climbing in Yosemite (part of R.A. training), we soon found we shared a love for our respective large families, yoga, biblical studies classes, 1940s films, and eating. 

Each time I would walk into Lena’s apartment, she would ask, “Are you hungry?” 

If it was morning, we would brew strong Arabian coffee, cook eggs and sausages, and gorge ourselves on crepes filled with nutella and fruit.  If it was evening, we would fry potatoes and eat them with Russian carrot salad.  One time, she taught me how to make Borscht (a Russian beet soup), which we ate with slices of bread slathered in sour cream and garlic. 

And always, after eating, we would have tea.  Tea is a ritual for Lena, like it is for so many people from Europe.  She would brew Russian tea the color of copper in a little china pot, and we would drink it from wide teacups while eating whatever sweets she had on hand—sesame candies, caramel waffle cookies, spoonfuls of nutella, sweetened condensed milk, or berry jam.  We would slice lemons into wedges and eat them covered with thick yellow honey from her dad’s bees.

Hospitality—sharing your homes, your beds, your meals—is one of the most common forms of generosity.  Especially as a college student, my friends rarely offer to pay for each other; instead, we invite each other into dorm rooms and apartments where we share snacks, hot drinks, or the dinner we have cooked; we offer a couch on which to crash, piled high with pillows and fleecy blankets.

Ironically, the most generous people are often those without much money.  The most generous students I encountered at APU did not come from affluent families.  The people who would loan me their cars, no questions asked, the ones who took me to get a cup African nectar tea if I was feeling blue, did not have much money at all.  These people had every right to say, “No, I cannot afford to risk having someone else crash my car,” or another such excuse.  I would have understood completely if they had said no.  But, in saying yes, they have changed my life.  

I wonder if people without much money understand the value of possessions--if, when we have less, we empathize more with those who need.  

I wonder if appreciating and sometimes needing another’s generosity and hospitality makes us more generous and hospitable.

I hope so.

I remember hundreds of things about my time at APU: Bruner's lecture on joy, Bentz's biographies of F. Scott Fitzgerald and Eugene O'Neill, tearful conversations with Marissa after evening chapel services, the wobbly feeling in my stomach when that boy told me he liked me, the first time Kim and I hiked Garcia Trail, walking into Glyer's office and wanting to live in it, climbing onto my balcony railing under the palm trees and winter stars and saying into the phone, "I've never felt so much like myself."  But, acts of generosity and hospitality from people like Lena are some of my favorite memories.  

Generosity and hospitality are among the most-praised qualities in the Bible.  Part of this is due to the fact that in ancient near-east culture, showing hospitality to strangers was the only way to ensure safe travel.  Hotels and restaurants did not exist, and a farming family opening their home to you was the only thing standing between you and a night spent on the freezing desert ground crawling with bandits and scorpions.  As an orphan or a widow, charitable gifts from the community were the only way you survived. 

From the Torah to the book of James, the Bible urges caring for the needy as the duty of the righteous, and neglecting the poor as one of the worst sins a person could commit.  The infamous fiery destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah recounted in Genesis 15 was much less about punishing homosexual behavior as it was punishing a lack of hospitality. 

The Book of Proverbs’ wise advice is this: “A generous person will be enriched, and one who gives water will get water” (Proverbs 11:25).

Jesus said, "Whoever welcomes you welcomes me, and whoever welcomes me welcomes the one who sent me. Whoever welcomes a prophet in the name of a prophet will receive a prophet's reward; and whoever welcomes a righteous person in the name of a righteous person will receive the reward of the righteous; and whoever gives even a cup of cold water to one of these little ones in the name of a disciple—truly I tell you, none of these will lose their reward" (Matthew 10:40-42).

In fact, several times Jesus says our acts of generosity (or lack thereof) will come back to us.  “Give, and it will be given to you…for the measure you give will be the measure you get back” (Luke 6:38), and, “Just as you did to one of the least of these…you did to me” (Matthew 25:40b).

James writes, “Every generous act of giving, with every perfect gift, is from above, coming down from the Father…” (James 1:17a). 

There is simply no escaping the fact that using our possessions to care for others is a requirement if we are trying to live a right life. 

When I was in high school, a song that contained the line, “The beauty of grace is that it makes life not fair.”

Generosity is a form of grace.  Last semester in my Greek class we learned the verb that means both “to graciously give” and "to forgive."  It was associated with the wealthy giving a monetary gift to those less fortunate without any strings attached.  When we graciously give, we allow another person to experience grace in a tangible way.  Through generosity, we remind each other we are forgiven--we have all made mistakes, and we all desperately need the second chance we do not deserve.

Unfortunately, receiving such things is not always comfortable experiences.  If there is an art to giving, there is definitely an art to receiving.  Receiving grace and forgiveness, like receiving charity (a word that used to encompass unconditional love but is now almost exclusively associated with monetary handouts) can be extremely difficult.  Asking for a favor requires courage and humility, whether it’s the price of a cup of coffee because you forgot your wallet, $200 because you cannot make your rent payment on time, or a ride to the airport at 5am because your friend bailed on you.
Accepting unexpected favors when you need them but have not asked is perhaps even more difficult.
Sometimes, we feel guilty, unworthy, in debt, and altogether uncomfortable, so we refuse gifts from others.

However, in refusing a gift, you are refusing to allow a friend the joy of giving--the joy of using their time, talent, or treasure to show their love and appreciation for you--the joy of remembering that what we own is not only for us.  If we do not practice giving and receiving, we forget that a life of selfishness is the most worthless kind of life.

Though I don’t struggle with that much when it comes to humans giving me things (I have no problem with someone wanting to buy me a cappuccino, throw me a party, give me diamonds, etc.), I wonder how often I have pushed God’s grace out of my mind so I don’t have to deal with the gnawing feeling of my own inadequacy.  

"But he gives us greater grace" (James 4:6a).