The first time I read this week’s biblical passages, I found myself struck by the honesty that the writers ask us to have about our own personal faiths. Together, this week’s readings say with one voice: how do your actions match the faith you claim to have?

Initially, these passages call us into a conversation about wealth. In Wisdom, the writer muses about how their perspective on wealth changed when they received Wisdom. In the Gospel of Mark, we hear the well-known story where Jesus muses that it would be “easier for a camel to pass through the Needle’s Eye gate than for a rich person to enter the kindom of God!” These passages make clear that material wealth is not an indicator of faith, and that material wealth can actually negatively impact our ability to fulfill our responsibilities to one another. If a person of faith must care for others above themselves, then hoarding wealth necessarily makes the achievement of that mandate quite difficult.

Of course, this question (i.e., what responsibility do the wealthy have to share their blessings with others?) has long been of interest to the Church. The tithe originated as a methodical system of organizing this giving to the Church specifically, with individuals expected to give 10 percent of their earnings to the Church, to support clergy, maintain churches, and assist the poor. In some way, then, the Church has long understood that material wealth also necessitates a certain amount of generosity. 

That said, I believe the idea behind the tithe, and the idea communicated in these readings, goes a bit deeper. Today’s readings, put in conversation with each other, evoke an internal dialogue that is as much about spiritual wealth as it is about material wealth. In Mark, we hear from an inquirer who wants to know the secret to everlasting life. Jesus’s response initially recounts the commandments: “No killing. No committing adultery. No stealing. No bearing false witness. No defrauding. Honor your mother and your father.” When the inquirer is unsatisfied with these answers, Jesus explains there is one more thing we must do: give up worldly possessions and give to the poor. This, he says, will lead the inquirer to have abundant treasure in heaven.

This idea is repeated throughout other texts, too. In 2 Corinthians 8-9, the Apostle Paul requests that the people of Corinth put aside their own material needs to support the creation of the church in Israel. He describes the giving of the church in Macedonia as an example for the Corinthians: “We want you to know, brothers and sisters, about the grace of God that has been granted to the churches of Macedonia; for during a severe ordeal of affliction, their abundant joy and their extreme poverty have overflowed in a wealth of generosity on their part.” The phrase “wealth of generosity” always strikes me in this passage, as it turns the concept of wealth on its head for the modern reader. It forces us to ask: in what way do I want to be wealthy? What forms of wealth do I prioritize? 

In Mark, the inquirer is dismayed by Jesus’s answer. And this is perhaps the part of the story that is most relatable for us in our present time. Even for those of us who work in giving or caring professions, giving up our material possessions sounds (and is) difficult. There is an undeniable reality that we live in a society defined by money. And for us to opt out of that system entirely is near impossible. So how do we live a meaningful life? How do we live a life worthy of the abundant treasure that would result from giving up worldly possessions, and giving to the poor? How do we translate a world focused on material wealth into a world focused on spiritual wealth? How do we become wealthy in generosity?

Questions for contemplation:

1. What communities have you been a part of that practice generosity well? 
2. How might you incorporate the practice of giving into your everyday life?

Pondering these questions, I can’t help but remember a few months I spent living in Cusco, Peru and learning from the Q’eros – an Indigenous group that has lived in the mountains of Peru for centuries. All this time, the Indigenous peoples of the Andes have performed rituals now enveloped within the broad label of “Andean spirituality” (cosmovisión), with the Pachamama (Mother Earth) and the Apus (centers of spiritual energy, i.e., mountains, rivers, etc.). These practices are rooted in the fundamental belief that the Earth is a living, spiritual being. For the Q’eros specifically, all things of this world have a spirit and an energy, called Animu. As the Pachamama is feminine, most of the Apus are masculine. And this duality creates a collaborative relationship among all beings, requiring a reciprocity across difference. This reciprocity, called Ayni, has become the central value of the Q’eros’ cosmovisión – it creates a unity within the natural duality. Ayni facilitates the community’s social system and dictates everyone’s obligations to one another within the community. 

Reciprocity is fundamentally a way of framing our responsibilities to one another. And I often find myself thinking that adopting reciprocity as a shared value may help us deconstruct the capitalist, wealth-based framework so many of us build our lives around. If we see our actions now – material acts of generosity – as actions which will one day be given back to us, we may be able to give more easily. This is not to say that we only give in order to receive, but that we may give with the understanding that others will one day give back to us. In this framework, our generosity today lays the foundation to receive generosity tomorrow. As individuals and as a community, we become more practiced in our giving over time. Together, we build a system of support. And where we are not wealthy on our own, we experience abundance in community and in solidarity with one another.