Spiritual Discipline of Receiving

~ by Samir Selmanovic

On a steamy hot summer day, after our Christian worship gathering, a group of us went to one of the New York city parks with gallons of homemade ice-cold lemonade, offering it to anyone who wanted it—for free. But people did not want it. That is, until we asked them to pay for it. Only then they would take it and happily guzzle it down.

People know that a gift is almost never just that, a gift. Philosopher Jacques Derrida argues that what we have historically regarded as a gift was actually never a gift. We give to gain. In return, we covet a favor, thankfulness, a sense of satisfaction in seeing ourselves as a giving person or simply the warm sensation of buying something for someone we love. Our gifts are a form of exchange. We give something obvious, to receive something subtle.

Sensing this dynamic, people who stand to lose anything don’t easily accept free help, advice, favors or money from others. To receive means to lose control. Gifts change relationships.  The recipient becomes a “weaker part” in the transaction.

Accordingly, receiving anything associated with someone else's religion is far more difficult than receiving a glass of lemonade.  That's why this reluctance to receive has become a grave problem among religious people today. Yes, we have learned to tolerate one another to some extent. Jews, Christians, Muslims and atheists have learned to live parallel lives and have parallel monologues, like toddlers who enjoy parallel play. But in order to make progress toward peace and justice in the world and in order to increase joy and beauty of human life, we must learn to appreciate, and at times receive what others have to give us. 

For many, this amounts to recanting of one’s own faith. Religion is an expression of what we hold as true, valuable and beautiful. Because religion—or any other worldview (including atheist varieties)—holds the meaning of our life together, accepting a gift of insight, truth, or beauty from other groups feels like losing face, control or power over life we think we have mastered through our religion. It potentially exposes the weaknesses of our faith structure, casting us as weaker and therefore dependent on the relationship with others.

That’s why many people who are sure about everything don’t know how to recognize their needs or receive a blessing from others.  Even within groups that want to learn to love others, we say to each other, “Love people, in your school, in your neighborhood, in your workplace. And then give them the truth.” We call each other to ministry, which always means serving people, caring for their needs, teaching them what they need to know to live better lives. Giving, giving, giving. Giving keeps us in control, subtly communicating the superiority of our worldview not only to others, but to ourselves as well.

And we like to be in control—even of God, goodness and love.

Our giving is actually becoming a way of taking.  We exalt the virtue of giving, saying, “It is in giving that we receive.” This is true and the world would perish without people who understand this law of life of any human community. But, how about giving up the role of being the sole giver of truth to the world?  That would be the ultimate act of giving, expressed (paradoxically) through receiving. In the relationship between religions, the attitude of being a sole dispenser of the blessing is becoming terribly counter-productive.  When it comes to God and truth, every group wants to teach and no group wants to learn. Everyone wants to stay in control by giving and nobody wants to seem weak by receiving. That’s why, for example, religions often don’t know how to repent of their historical failures. Repentance means one needs to receive forgiveness. And receiving means our religion is not as perfect as we think it must be. 

Religion (or a worldview) that will matter in the future will not pretend to be faultless, self-sufficient and above the frailties of human existence. In my Christian tradition, for example, concept of sin revolves around self-sufficiency. And this should include matters of spirituality. To grow spiritually should mean to journey to a place where we get better and better at receiving goodness, grace, and God from others. God is in others, even in the enemy. God is in a stranger. That’s why in the Bible hospitality is of such value, not just as a custom of the day but as a way God visits us, unexpectedly.

Love knows how to take what others have to offer even when that is something we think we are in charge of! That’s why evangelism—sharing the good news of Christianity—at its best is primarily a process of receiving, in humility, before the mystery of God, thus acknowledging our creaturehood to other creatures, becoming their sojourner.  When we receive from others, we celebrate the wisdom God has given them, we affirm grace in their experience, and we find footsteps of God in their life. Rewards are far greater than a cup of lemonade. 

It is often by giving that we control or take and by receiving that we actually love and give. In the matters of God, only learners can be safe teachers. “Teachers of others” who are not “learners from others,” will sooner or later lose their authority. It is already happening. And the world will be better for it.

(from Signs of the Times, Australia, September 2007, adapted by the author)

Comments

[Simona]

For as long as I can remember, I was a very good "giver" - I simply love giving. There is, possibly, nothing I enjoy more than having a chance to give something to a person I love and care for. In fact, I would most probably have no problem giving something to others that I would never even consider giving to myself. Strange, maybe, but true. But when it comes to receiving... well, that's a different story.

I used to be a very good "receiver" when I was a child. It is a family legend that I used to write letters to everyone before my birthday, reminding them (casually, as I thought) that my birthday is coming, and thus - indirectly - reminding them that gifts are in order. And my sister has a proof in writing of one such letter, just in case I forgot things. I loved the anticipation, imagining the gifts I will get, sometimes better and sometimes worse than those I actually received. One way or the other, I simply revelled in getting something unexpected, or expected, something I needed, or wanted, or even did not think of. Birthdays and New Year's Eves were times of great expectations that never disappointed me. Even now, as I write these words, I remember something of that excitement and anticipation, a bit of that magic of gifts that came from those I loved and who loved me.

As the time went on, and I grew older, gifts became a rarity, more and more, until it came the time when it seemed that no one really cared to give things any more [except for my family members, of course]. That feeling was not entirely accurate, but it was there, and it grew. It is not that I was not receiving gifts - it is my perception of them that changed. I realised that many people give things expecting something in return, and more often than not, I was unable or unwilling to give them that "something" they expected. So, I got weary of gifts and those who were giving them... Like in the case of Danais, it seemed that gifts were just vessels for conquering, of asserting some kind of power, or at least of putting me in a situation of owing something to those who gave me those gifts. And as I became aware of those nuances, I started declining gifts that seemed to ask for more than I was willing to give in return. At the same time, I still continued developing my own sense of giving - simply because I enjoy doing it - and I think I must have spent more time persuading people that I don't expect anything in return than searching for those gifts in the first place. It seems that receiving is much more difficult than giving as we grow older... we become more suspicious of people's intentions, we measure things, we think of the consequences and what we need to give back, and in all that, we forgot how to receive with gratitude and childish anticipation and joy. I miss that experience... and somehow, through my own giving, I am trying to reach that elusive world in which gifts are given to multiply the joy, and not to gain anything in return.

There is a text in the Old Testament that many people like to quote - "neither borrower, nor lender be" - mostly as an explanation why they would not help others when they need something. Maybe it is just me, but I read that text in a different way. I am certain that God was trying to teach us a true generosity, in words and by example. He created the world and gave it to us to take care for it. He came and gave His life for us. He did not ask for payment in return, although the very act of such selfless giving inevitably creates a bond that enables us to become like Him, and give like we were given. Taken together, I believe that the true meaning of that Old Testament text is that we should not borrow or lend - but rather give and receive - not expecting or asking for anything in return. And if we do get something in return, that will be just joy multiplied, just like that feeling of overwhelming beauty and goodness when the gifts are opened in the presence of those who gave them, lovingly, and laughing with joy, together, creating a whole new world of gifts that cannot be bought or sold. And that would be the greatest gift of all - the return of innocence.