© Pierre Maré,
2004 - 2007
Offbeat 20
We had to do literary appreciation at school, some of which involved poetry. We learnt to appreciate alliteration, metaphor, cunning use of meter and other things that were easy to forget. One thing almost went missing entirely though: appreciation of poetry itself. It’s hard to like anything when the threat of grades hangs over your head. That being said, one piece of poetry stuck with me the way chewing gum sticks to the bottom of a shoe on a hot summer day. The story goes something like this…
Once upon a time there was a knight called Martin. On a cold, stormy night, he issues forth from wherever on some or other quest. Along the way, he meets a beggar. Assessing the weather, he cuts his cloak in two, gives half to the beggar and keeps the other half for himself. Later on he sees a vision of Christ wearing half of his cloak. Christ tells him he is doubly blessed for having kept something of the cloak for himself. He goes on to become St Martin.
There is no pleasure as strange as giving. We are told to give is one way that we can touch the divine, usually by a small town preacher who has hit the big time with a television show and a toll-free number, all major credit cards accepted in the quest to save your soul. On the other hand, there is the bright light of gratitude and greed in my daughter’s eyes as she accepts some new toy or book, or even just a cookie. Now that’s really divine.
There is also an socio-biological argument for giving: sharing what you have with weaker members of the group is a way to improve the survival chances of a community of individuals upon whom you may need to rely in some hopefully distant future.
In spite of all the want-more, get-more materialism, it seems as if giving is definitely a route to go. But giving has its flipside.
Try this experiment with any passing toddler. Hold two pieces of chocolate in one hand. Reveal both pieces to the child and allow it to take one. Wait until the child has made it through the first piece of chocolate, and tell the child that the other piece is yours.
Once you have surrendered the chocolate, wiped away the child’s tears, calmed the mother and regained your shattered composure, you will realize that the act of taking is instinctive behaviour. At this point the little terror should be heading in your direction again. If you don’t have a third piece of chocolate, run.
Add to this the fact that what occurs in early life echoes through into adulthood, and you may begin to reach the hypothesis that everyone knows taking is far more fun and a lot easier than giving, regardless of age, sex, culture or means.
The pattern repeats itself in strange places. Kindness in the workplace might not be interpreted as selflessness, but as an invitation to shift responsibility and risk in your direction. In this regard be wary of subordinates, superiors and people in other departments entirely.
A regular donation to a beggar may be seen as an appearance fee, not charity. If you do give, you may find that the recipient starts turning up with a supporting cast. If you don’t you may become the villain in an embarrassing public drama.
Giving too much and too often can create a dependency, much like heroin, alcohol or those amazing little toys that you put together after you have eaten the chocolate egg. New Model Army sums it up succinctly in their song, ‘Great Expectations’: “All I wanted in the end / was world domination and a whole lot of money to spend.”
Giving is good, especially if you are a registered charity fronting for people who have learned the hard way about dependency and its enslaving effect on the giver, but perhaps a wiser approach is to cut your cloth to suit your cloak, the way Martin did.
Give what you can, when you can, but always give unexpectedly to those who really need it, and always hold a little bit back, if not as a resource for yourself, then at least for someone who really needs it.
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