Thoughts on Giving
I recently received the unique blessing of driving two of North Park Covenant Church’s long time members, PJ and Gladys Larson, down to their winter retreat in Sedona, Arizona. If you ever want a general education on everything from geological stratification to the importance of Dante for the 20th century to the finer subtleties of Swedish humor, I recommend spending three days in a car with Gladys and PJ on old Route 66.
In my time down in the Southwest, I was privileged to attend a ceremonial dance of the native Americans at the Santa Clara pueblo. It took place on the central plaza of the pueblo and included scores of dances and hundreds of observers from within the tribe. As is often practiced, the conclusion of the dance was marked by a gift-giving ceremony. Following the choreographed dances, a more chaotic movement overtook the plaza as individuals and families began crossing the large open space to meet others and bestow gifts on them. Long embraces and brief conversations accompanied the gift giving. I later learned that at the next ceremony, days, weeks, or months later, those who had received gifts were expected to return the generosity. Gift exchange, celebrated publicly through such ceremonies, is a central unifying practice of the community.
Unfortunately, it is from this practice of mutual gift giving that the term "Indian giver" was coined. The term is often meant as a derogatory remark on one who is seen as so uncivilized as to expect the return of a gift that is given. Lewis Hyde describes the misunderstanding of the native American practice.
Imagine a scene. An Englishman comes into an Indian lodge and his hosts, wishing to make their guest feel welcome, ask him to share a pipe of tobacco. The pipe is a peace offering that has circulated among the local tribes, staying in each lodge for a time but always given away again sooner or later. And so the Indians, as is only polite among their people, give the pipe to their guest when he leaves. The Englishman is tickled pink. What a nice thing to send back to the British Museum! He takes it home and sets it on the mantelpiece. A time passes and the leaders of a neighboring tribe come to visit the colonist’s home. To his surprise he finds his guests have some expectations in regards to his pipe, and he learns that if he is to show good will he should offer them a smoke and give them the pipe. In consternation the Englishman invents a phrase to describe these people with such a limited sense of private property. (Lewis Hyde, The Gift: Imagination and the Erotic Life of Property. Random House: New York, 1983)
The opposite of "Indian giver," according to Lewis Hyde, might be "white man keeper" or even "capitalist." The motto of John Nuveen & Company speaks to this disturbing characteristic of our culture: "It’s not what you earn, it’s what you keep." In a society that defines assets and resources solely as possessions, it would do us well to retrieve the social conception of the gift.
The essence of a gift for those from Santa Clara is not necessarily that it return to its original owner, though that indeed may occur, but rather that the gift must always move. A gift is only fully realized when it is given again. There may be other forms of property in life that stand still, that find rest in our keeping of them, but to be a gift is to continue moving by being given again and again. The essence of Christian stewardship is reflected in the Santa Clara practice of gift giving. The material resources of our dwellings here on earth become transfigured in becoming gifts. In the gift, the other’s material needs become my spiritual needs. Such gifts exist between the economics of exchange and the unconditional grace of God. The gifts of stewardship bridges the kingdom of earth and the kingdom of heaven by moving between earthly economics and resources and heavenly grace.
Of all that we encounter in the world, in all the experiences we have, in all the people we meet, and in all the wisdom we learn from them, there is so little we earn. The world gives itself to us. People, as parents, friends, and communities give themselves to us. There are so few things we have earned, and of them there is nothing we have earned alone. To be a good steward is not to take up possessive ownership, but to free up the world and its people for flourishing. Stewardship starts with this initial humble realization: there is an essential element of grace in every aspect of our lives, our resources, and our communities. As such, we are called to give that grace a movement that bonds communities and individuals together.