Living With Heart:
True Hearts Are Never Spiritually Stingy
© 2010 Candace A. Croft
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Everyone wondered about the identity of the compassionate soul whose generosity had continued for many years, long enough to become part of the town’s charm. You know how some locales were known for the world’s largest peanut or the best woolen socks? Our town was like that except that our claim to fame was an angel who gave anonymously and generously to those in need. The homeless were given shelter. The hungry were fed. The threadbare received clothes and shoes. Books arrived for those who thirsted for life’s knowledge and gear for those who sought life’s experience.
Despite the numerous occasions and the townsfolk’s diligence, the benefactor eluded detection. Everyone had their guess about the person’s identity, naturally. Across time, the guesses and the mystery grew until, like any good myth, the story became larger than life. Our town prospered from association. Whenever word leaked about a benevolent act occurring, tourists swarmed the village as they would with any good religious miracle, I suppose, to soak up the ambience of goodwill and spend their money on lattes and trinkets, as if their presence after that fact would shed any light on the riddle whatsoever.
For all the guesses, one person was never in the spotlight. They say that every village has an idiot; our town had a curmudgeon. Rafferty was his name. He never gave. He never offered assistance. Even his gait was stingy as he walked in a crumpled shuffle, huddled completely inside of himself, as if he even feared expending energy. His features reflected his cutting personality—his bone structure was sharply angular and his eyes, when he dared lift them from the ground, were flinty. No, Rafferty was never considered as the angel in disguise.
A good mystery inspires talk and this one was no different. Whenever two or more gathered together it was a topic of discussion, along with an assessment of the recipients’ worthiness. Judgments passed held all the legitimacy given to café tribunals. A few recipients passed judgment unscathed as the townsfolk concurred with the angel’s decision. Most of the tribunal’s reviews, however, were uncharitable.
“They brought this misery on themselves,” some said. “They’re just too lazy to help themselves.”
“Yep. They made this bed. They should have to lie in it.”
Others nodded and added, “Nothing but their own foolishness. Got into this trouble by being irresponsible, living beyond their means.”
Irony was never lacking as it was often said, “Instead of being given a handout, they need to learn a lesson. Pull themselves up by their boot straps like the rest of us have to.”
Even jealousy reared its proverbial ugly head. “Why should they help? Nobody ever helped me.”
It was readily apparent, at least to the young child I was at the time, that a miserly nature need not be limited to material wealth, but extended to spiritual stinginess as well.
Coinciding with one of the town’s giving mysteries was a fund-raiser for a country devastated by natural tragedy. I knew before I approached Rafferty’s door that he would not be a sale, but I rang the doorbell anyway. I was not surprised when he didn’t contribute to the worldwide relief fund. I wasn’t really surprised when, despite my persistent ringing and best smile, he did not even answer the door. I shrugged and walked away telling myself that those with crotchety natures did not easily part with their misery ways.
When the community regrouped with our relief-fund cans and compared our donation lists, we were no closer to identifying the angel than before the drive began. None of the angels-under-consideration had given significantly more than the rest and virtually all had given to the cause. A Nancy Drew fan, I understood the allure of solving a good mystery. But, I had suspected the drive would fail to identify the angel. As I am sure Nancy would have immediately noted, this angel’s modus operandi was to act anonymously.
Several years later, the giving mysteriously stopped. Or, not so mysteriously perhaps. I had forgotten the fund-raising incident until recently when my Aunt told me that Rafferty had died. As she answered my questions, I was humbled by Rafferty’s glowing soul that had been the subject of tarnish by those less generous then he. His crumpled shuffle and introverted ways were not the behaviors of a cruel heart. Quite the opposite, in fact.
It turns out that my Aunt had known Rafferty to be the angel all along but, to her credit and despite the power that knowing the identity would have given her, she said nothing for all those years. When I asked why she had kept the secret, her answer was simple and resolute: It was not her story to tell.
“Why did he share his secret with you?” I asked.
“Oh, I was not the only one who knew,” she said, sipping the jasmine tea that she reserved for those moments when a calming, uplifting force was needed. “Every one of my friends knew for they were his friends, too. Those who came to my house accepted him for who he was and asking nothing more of him.”
“You respected him for the person he was.” My words were warm with respect for my Aunt’s dear friend.
“As with all of us, his had a unique perspective on life and, yes, we carefully respected his journey, so he felt comfortable here. He shared laughs—soft ones, to be sure—and tears with us. Our group was all the better because he opened his heart to us and we accepted it with reciprocity. He was blessing that no one else ever was willing to recognize.”
She dabbed at the moistness that gathered like dew at the corners of her eyes. I knew she was not mourning his passing because she was happy that he had returned to Paradise, his learning complete. She mourned in remembrance of the suffering he endured in this life.
After a few minutes of silence, I asked, “Are you saying that others chose not to recognize who he really was?”
“It is always a person’s choice to see the blessedness of another or see the darkness that haunts all of us in one way or another. Harsh judgments marked him for someone he was not” she explained, passing me the plate of teacakes in offering. “He was a gentle soul and extremely shy, painfully so, by nature. He withdrew from the world, not because he disliked people, but because he was afraid of them.”
“He was misjudged,” I repeated as a whisper so as not to break the line of conversation.
“As if any judgment is anything but. Can we really know another’s heart simply from observing public actions?”
“No,” I answered quickly. I had learned that much.
“Thank the Mother and Father God, other’s treatment did not taint his soul. He continued to respond with an open and generous heart. Not only did he continue to give something he did not receive, he gave purely, without need for anything in return. He asked for no return through public recognition, accolade, or a break on his taxes. He gave quietly and was viewed harshly as a result. Universal law says that what you give comes back upon you as a reflection of self seven-fold. So, I ask you: With the whole story known, who was the stingy one?”
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I wish I could take credit for this story’s concept, but it is the re-working of a standard Jewish parable. What is it about human nature that allows us to give to strangers across the globe while denying help to the next-door neighbor we see on a regular basis? Is it that we want to deny misery in our midst? Do we hold neighbors to a more stringent standard of need than a person a world away, as if strangers thousands of miles away have no human foibles? Do we become judgmental of those close by and, for whatever reason, exert spiritual stinginess to keep the Jones’s from getting what we have worked so hard for or, heaven forbid, getting ahead? Does the feeling of righteousness increase with the number of miles?
True hearts are never stingy because they retain a spirit that is, by nature, giving. It is within our hearts that our divine spark resides. We are created in the Higher Power’s image and, since the Higher Power loves all of creation, we are designed to have love over-flowing from our hearts as well. When the giving flow of the true spirit is blocked, we experience heart failure. As Lazy Lapis said in Annalia’s Simply Splendid Flight, “Failure of heart is the only heart failure there is.”
Am I saying not to give to those far away who are in need of assistance? No. One form of stinginess is no better than another. Giving is good. It is divine. But giving to strangers does not absolve one from seeing and relieving the plight of our neighbors. Doing so would be the spiritual equivalent of a five-year-old who goes out of her way to inform a peer, “I’m having a birthday party and you can’t come. I don’t like you.”
Am I saying to give to others that your own survival turns to issue? No. To be generous to others while being stingy with self also violates heart. Causing harm to self is as equally dishonorable as causing harm to another. Balance in giving and receiving is life’s fulcrum.
I am suggesting we would do well to withhold judgments about our neighbors, especially those going through tough times, as we all do, at one time or another. Judgments are stingy acts that are never helpful. We cannot judge another’s journey because we do not know what path they have chosen. Be honest. Most of us have difficulty navigating our own paths. But, our paths are not whimsical. They have meaning. We came to Earth, not because we were sinful, but for a reason. We are each on a divine mission to perfect our souls.
The way our souls perfect is by experiencing life in a manner impossible in Paradise; we perfect by confronting and overcoming darkness. Those that experience hard times on earth are courageously facing darkness head-on in order to master self. That is true whether that dark night involves physical, financial, and emotional monsters. In return, the Higher Power experiences life through our skins and learns how human creations react to such situations. To help a person attempting mastery is to help the Master—the Christ or the Buddha—in times of trouble. Few people would object to providing aid to the Master, so why do we object when the Master is costumed as an ordinary neighbor?
Correspondingly, each of us learns something about our selves by how we respond to others confronting darkness. Is our response harsh and cruel or open and caring? By our responses, the Mother-Goddess and Father-God learn about each of us. Such is the spiritual cycle of life from Above to Below. The Higher Power does not judge us for the situations in which we find our selves. Those situations are simply lessons to be learned in the school of life and nothing more. If the Higher Power withholds judgment, who are we to do differently?
How can you defeat spiritual stinginess and shine the divine spark of an open, loving heart? Give money if and when you can. This is fine. But, I would posit that giving of self through service when you are in a position to do so is a higher order of heart. To give of self to others is what defines us as the social creatures we are. Believe it or not, most of us are in a position to give far more frequently and generously than we wish to admit.
How can open hearts give? Recycle clothes, toys, and household items that are in good condition by donating them to a thrift store or a charitable service. Church and youth groups, as well as businesses who choose to give back to the community, can establish cooperatives that offer time, skills, and gifts in service to those over 60 years of age and others in need. They can rake leaves, mow lawns, and remove snow. They can help plant and weed personal gardens. Ride-sharing can be established. After all, if you are already going to the store or movies, it will not cost more to take two or three others with you. If the person is homebound or the weather treacherous, run errands for the person. Help with home maintenance and repair. Home visits for a chat or reading a book create a positive connection of spirits. All of this can be done without expecting anything in return, including money. These are only a few examples. As your heart opens, I am certain you will identify more ways to give.
Life it too hectic and you don’t have the time, you say? Taking some of the time spent vegetating in front of the TV or surfing the web to serve others will open the loving flow of your heart into the world and decrease the darkness in your own life. Some of your family time can be spent sharing with others. Personal service may not be tax deductible, but I guarantee that, when done with soulful intention, you will feel the joy of an expanded heart that energizes your entire being with radiance.
Go with the flow of your generosity. You do not have to like someone or their situation to shine with sacred self. You simply have to want to perfect the world by perfecting your selfless acts. Give of your self to others in whatever way you can. When you cannot, at least withhold judgment. Release the dam of spiritual stinginess, let your love flow, and you will——
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