The power of a simple gesture

how and why small acts of generosity feel extravagant

I have been to Topeka, Kansas three times this year already which is much more time than I ever anticipated spending in Kansas’s capital city. I go one weekend each month for in-person class sessions, worship services, and community activities as part of my Anglican Studies program. I’ve got ten classes to take all together in order to top-off my previous theological education and prepare me for ordination to the priesthood in The Episcopal Church. So far I’ve taken polity, ethics, and now, sacramental theology.

Grace Episcopal Cathedral, Topeka, KS

Wow, what a class. There were nineteen students and the conversations were illuminating and formative. We read a book which gave me language to understand my own process of leaving one church tradition for another. Perhaps that is something I will write about another time. For now I want to share about something a classmate did for me.

In our last class session we were discussing the assigned papers. The instructor understandably has rigorous expectations for how we cite our work. I have a copy of the book on kindle, but the method by which the kindle paginates its books is different from paper ones. These days, many kindle versions have incorporated the print page numbers, but those which were made for kindle back when e-books were just getting their start have not all be updated to reflect the new method. All that to say, my version of the book didn’t have page numbers and this seemed like it would pose a problem for the citation requirements. I asked the instructor about it, and we devised a method together that I could use to cite sections of the book. All done, and no worse for the wear. I appreciated her generosity because I knew that following the method for my citations would take a little more care, a little more time, than the traditional way. But she was willing and I felt confident about being able to follow through.

The very next day in the early hours of the morning while I was still getting ready for work, I received an email from a classmate which read:

Janette,
If you tell me where to send the hard copy of the book I will get it shipped to you asap. Your contributions this weekend were perspective shifting and appreciated. You allowed me to see an area I hadn't considered. If we aren't open to shifting our viewpoint and refocusing, then how will we ever see the countenance of Christ in the faces of those to whom we minister.

This simple gesture surprised and moved me to such a degree that I cried when I read it. But why? Why did it move me so?

There are acts of generosity we share because they are necessary. People need food and need shelter and need resources, and so we find a way to give of our time and money to meet those needs. Those needs are very real, very necessary. Generosity from that recognition of need is important and good and meaningful.

This gift of a print book which costs only $19 met an unnecessary but very specific situation. The gift felt radical simply because it was not anything I asked for, nor was it necessary for me to do what I needed to do. And yet my classmate was attentive enough to the situation, to me, to our class, to the Spirit, to think “I will buy Janette that book.” Just because he wanted to.

This gift was also one one of reciprocal vulnerability. I can remember offering thoughts and questions in our class sessions, wondering if I needed to be commenting at all. Is what I have to say of any value? Or am I taking time away from someone else? Why does it matter for me to share these stories, to ask these questions?

The very nature of his unnecessary gift moved me because I felt so specifically seen by his generosity and by how he listened to me in class and then took the time and effort to tell me. These gifts are extravagant because they are outside the realm of anything I expected or thought I needed.

His contributions in class, too, also helped unlocked an area of thought where I felt stuck. Together, along with our instructor and classmates, we danced through conversations about the nature of the sacraments. Along the way, we learned a few new steps and rhythms that helped us tell a story we all needed to both share and hear.

I am deeply grateful for this expression of generosity. The book will be helpful, of course. But the real gift was being seen and offered encouragement I didn’t even know I needed at the time. His gift did for me what he aspires to do in his ministry; I now have seen the countenance of Christ in my friend.

In the weeks that have followed, I have looked for opportunities where I can keep the gift in motion by sharing extravagant, unnecessary generosity with someone else.

I’d love to hear your stories. Have you experienced such generosity before, too? What was that like?

Until next time,
Janette

P.S. In recent weeks, I’ve also read The Serviceberry: Abundance and Reciprocity in the Natural World by Robin Wall Kimmerer, which is a beautiful exploration of the power of gift economies and reciprocal generosity. Wow wow wow. Have you read it? Should we talk about it here?