Extravagant Love
What does a viral meme, homelessness, an art studio, university speech and the National Disability Insurance Scheme have in common? In their own way, each reflects part of the discourse between Jesus and his disciples in Bethany, following Mary’s outpouring of her extravagant gift (Matthew 26:6-13). At first glance, Jesus’s response appears to shirk the poor who ‘will always be with us’, but that interpretation ignores the context of the verse he quotes from the Torah. The disciples would have understood, without need for qualification, that He was reminding them of the Jewish year of Jubilee, to be “openhanded… to the poor and needy in [their] land” and to “give generously to them and do so without a grudging heart” (Deuteronomy 15:10-11). This reminder is particularly apt for the world of today; the need to be generous online, in the streets and the workplace.
If we chose to give of ourselves, the poor can be our teachers, our friends, our witness to faith. Instead, it seems that we alienate, immune ourselves and hold ‘them’ at a distance. The temptation is to remain ignorant, untouched and indeed poorer for the lost encounter. As disciples of Christ, we have an imperative to be with these people, to push outwards to the boundaries of society. John’s Gospel exhorts that everyone will know we are Christians by our love and infers to go well beyond those we cherish and relate to in our socioeconomic bracket. Matthew 5:44 calls us to consider how we love our enemies, our neighbours and those who need more than our impersonal donations of loose change and worn clothes.
The Blue Marists are at the peripheries of Aleppo, Syria and recognise the importance of being with those in need. They speak of "returning dignity, or relationship of equal to equal, of a look of love that does not judge" (Marist News, 450). As an educator, St Marcellin instructed his Brothers to love all of the students and to love them all equally. Equal does not mean same and to discover how to love students equally, we must first understand their needs. Teachers in come into contact with children and families who are poor in spirit, in material items, poor in health (mental/physical), poor in social skills, culturally poor, poor in education, talent poor, time poor, poor in safety, experience poor. The needs of our students are varied and discovered through relationships.
If we love people, we want to identify with them and share with them.
L’Arche Genesaret founder, Jean Vanier, points out that “we are not called by God to do extraordinary things, but to do ordinary things with extraordinary love”. At times, the love required seems harder to produce then the actions we think are needed. He goes onto explain, “when people love each other, they are content with very little. When we have light and joy in our hearts, we don't need material wealth. The most loving communities are often the poorest. If our own life is luxurious and wasteful, we can't approach poor people. If we love people, we want to identify with them and share with them.” This a powerful challenge for those who hold tightly to wealth and identify with the rich young man of the Gospels (Matthew 19:16-30) who seeks what is required for eternal life. Vanier says that “the poor are always prophetic. As true prophets always point out, they reveal God's design. That is why we should take time to listen to them. And that means staying near them, because they speak quietly and infrequently; they are afraid to speak out, they lack confidence in themselves because they have been broken and oppressed. But if we listen to them, they will bring us back to the essential” (Community And Growth, 1989).
In 1995, Nelson Mandela declared in ‘Long Walk to Freedom’, an essential criteria for judging the quality of a nation is how well they care for their poorest. Indeed, Pope Francis referred to the Christian faith as a call "to wash the feet and bathe the wounds of the suffering and to prepare a table for them". In reality it seems that businesses and government struggle to strike the balance between wealth creation and financing welfare, social policies of inclusion and driving cultural changes to equip and employ those with different ability. One example of success in Australia is through the National Disability Insurance Scheme (NDIS) legislation passed by Prime Minister Julia Gillard in 2013. Financed by the NDIS, the House With No Steps organisation supports young people with disabilities to engage in the community in meaningful ways. I was fortunate to work with this organisation to assist a young man gain work experience at Marist College Canberra, where he works as part of the maintenance team. His mother says, “our hopes are that Nick will continue to be happy, will gain confidence, and enjoy life just like anyone else” (view the full story here). How much do ‘the rich’ value happiness, confidence and the joy of living? This question was brought into focus for my Year 10 Christian Leadership students throughout their Service Learning with students who have disabilities. The Year 10s write in their journals that they previously took so much for granted, feel blessed to enjoy the simple things of life and have gained a deep satisfaction from being known by the kids at Malkara and The Woden School.
In a 2013 address to graduates of the University of Western Australia, Tim Minchin reminded them that they “are lucky to be here. You were incalculably lucky to be born, and incredibly lucky to be brought up by a nice family that helped you get educated and encouraged you to go to Uni. Or if you were born into a horrible family, that’s unlucky and you have my sympathy… but you were still lucky: lucky that you happened to be made of the sort of DNA that made the sort of brain which – when placed in a horrible childhood environment – would make decisions that meant you ended up, eventually, graduating Uni. Well done you, for dragging yourself up by the shoelaces, but you were lucky. You didn’t create the bit of you that dragged you up. They’re not even your shoelaces… Understanding that you can’t truly take credit for your successes, nor truly blame others for their failures will humble you and make you more compassionate. Empathy is intuitive, but is also something you can work on, intellectually”.
Far removed from chance or luck, Catholic Social Teaching implores believers to develop empathy and love for neighbour, stating that “respect for the human person entails respect for the rights that flow from his dignity as a creature” (CCC 1930). A recent meme on Facebook (see below) highlighted a complete disregard for human dignity, both of the individual that was degraded and those participating in the ‘tagging’ of their mates. Lizzie Velasquez, the person at the centre of this viral meme said, “no matter what we look like or what size we are, at the end of the day we are all human”. It seems that when humans are portrayed in two dimensions on screens they can quickly become stripped of their inherent worth and valued simply as objects of lust, humour or intrigue. Some thing rather than some one.
A young man frequently inhabits the space between the carpark and the place where I buy groceries. He has targeted the only place I can’t avoid, the spot where I am vulnerable and some sort of encounter is inevitable. It is the same place that politicians, fundraising tables, buskers and specials discount boards are located. Prime position, it’s impossible to miss and hard to avoid. So how do I respond when he asks if I can spare him some change? I don’t carry cash, so what do I do? I kind of shrug off his g’day and mumble something about having no money. Later, as I recall my extensive shopping list, I can’t get him out of my head and decide to take money out with my groceries for him. This presents a second challenge for me, wondering how much is an appropriate amount to give him, five, ten, twenty, fifty? I consider how much I would beg for. On the way out I hand him the money and wish him a good evening. Climbing into my car, I turn back to see who else might stop by to help, but he is gone – hopefully to spend the money on food (because that’s what I would do).
Recently, my eight-year-old son started art lessons and on arrival to collect him, I found him curled up at front desk of the studio. Laying down on a blanket, holding a bowl, forlorn and on display for everyone walking in. I felt a strong desire to move him out of the gaze of the other parents and children as they stepped around the intrusion. I didn’t want him to feel stared at, singled out, pitied. Why wasn’t there somewhere out the back of the studio they could have placed him? Fortunately, my son didn’t seem to phased by the whole thing as he was preoccupied with trying not to be sick. His exposure to the gawking and pity was really my concern (on his behalf).
Whilst my desire to move my son and the young man at the shopping centre could be understood as upholding the dignity of the other, it also reveals an intolerance to public vulnerability on my part. Truth be told, I didn’t really want the attention of the parents walking past my child, thinking he may be infecting their children as they painted. A part of me doesn’t want the needy resorting to lurking outside of shopping malls, preying on our conscience and goodwill, when all we are trying to do is get on with our happy lives. Isn’t there a better way for people to seek support? These moments of self-centeredness, reveal a disconnect between the experience of the person in need and my own needs at the time. It’s all ‘I’ and ‘me’, with no mention of ‘we’. The challenge of Jesus to the disciples in Bethany is strikingly relevant – it becomes about ‘us’ together, rather than ‘me’ for my own good.
I recall wiser people brandishing the line ‘the poor will always be with us’, inflicting a deflating blow to my overzealous and youthful optimism for building a better world. In more recent times, well-meaning people have implored me to direct this passion to serve as an evangelising force for the spiritually poor. I still feel the tension between looking after my own family and giving generously to those in need. I’m learning that the poor prophetically require us to hold the mirror up to ourselves. But do we dare to look, as individuals, organisations and as nations? And if we do look, how extravagant is the love that we pour out?
