Where does charity begin?
Where does charity begin? Consider this for a moment. You’ve heard where love is perfect; the Lord told us in the Gospel what its goal and measure is: “Greater love than this no one has than to lay down his life for his friends” (Jn 15:13). He showed its perfection in the Gospel, and it is here commended again. But you ask yourselves, “When can we have this charity?” Don’t despair of yourselves too quickly. Perhaps it has been born but is not yet perfect. Nourish it so that it’s not choked. But you will say to me: “How will I know it?” How it is made perfect we have heard; let’s hear where it begins. He goes on to say: “Whoever has the world’s goods and sees a brother hungry and closes his bowels from him, how could the love of God be in him?” (1 Jn 3:17) That’s where charity begins! If you’re not yet capable of dying for a brother, you are already capable of helping a brother from your means. Let charity strike your bowels so that you don’t do it out of vainglory but from the marrow of your mercy see him in his need. If you can’t give your superfluous goods to your brother, how will you lay down your life for a brother? You have money in your bag which thieves can steal from you; and if thieves don’t take it, and you don’t lose it while you’re alive, you’ll leave it behind when you die. What are you going to do with it? Your brother is hungry; he’s in need; perhaps he’s in difficulty, pressed by a creditor. He has nothing, but you do. He’s your brother. You were both bought; a single price was paid for you; both of you were redeemed by the blood of Christ. See whether you have mercy, if you have this world’s goods.
“How is this my concern?” you may say; “Am I to give my money so that he does not suffer trouble?” If this is what your heart replies, the love of the Father does not remain in you. If the Father’s love does not remain in you, you are not born of God. How can you boast of being a Christian? You have the name, but don’t have the deeds. But if the work follows the name, let people call you a pagan; by your deeds you show that you are a Christian. And if everyone calls you a Christian, but you don’t show yourself a Christian by your deeds, what good is the name when the reality is not found? (Augustine on I John, Hom. 6, 8; PL 35, 2024)
These wonderful posts on Augustine’s dealings with I John have sent me back to the epistle itself, and I find myself particularly struck by the idea that God’s love, perfect though it may be, remains unfulfilled unless we allow ourselves to be full participants in it through love of others (2:4-5) Much to think about in this marvelous treatment of love (I’m using the Jerusalem Bible).
Nicholas writes: “These wonderful posts on Augustine’s dealings with I John have sent me back to the epistle itself.”
Would that every homily would impel us back to the Scriptures themselves. On the other hand, returning, even unprompted, is always “right and just.” :-)
“…closes his bowels from him…”
Hmmm, wonder if something was lost in translation.
Mark: I deliberately made the translation as literal as possible, in part because a day or two ago we talked about the bowels being considered the seat of the emotions and the heart the seat more of the mind. Today, of course, we would be likely to say “closes his heart to him,” but that’s not what Augustine said.
Father K–
Thanks, it hangs together much better now with that background. Personally, I prefer literal translations any way. Translations too in tune with the current vernacular don’t transport you back. Literal translations may not have the smoothness of a blended scotch, but a single malt translation makes you sit up and take notice.
That should be: “that’s not what the author of I John said”!
Mark: I love the analogy with Scotch whiskey: single-malt translations vs. blended scotch. Douai-Rheims is definitely single-malt: “But whoso hath this world’s good, and seeth his brother have need, and shutteth up his bowels of compassion from him, how dwelleth the love of God in him?” But the King James Version is already blending; it specifies that the bowels are ‘bowels of compassion,” which is not found in the Greek.
The expression “gut feelings” certainly corroborates Augustine’s assumption. I’ve read that the physiologists have actually discovered nerve cells in the gut which are like brain cells, but they seem independent of the brain to a large extent. Hmmm.
Sometimes you see a homeless person begging and trying to make themselves look and sound as pitiful as possible; or sometimes you see scenes of war horror on TV. You get a sick feeling in your abdomen, and so, what do you do about it? You turn your eyes away, you change the channel, you say to yourself “We can’t do anything about it, so there is no point dwelling on it” or “I’ve already made my charitable donations for this month”, and you resolutely push the disturbing images out of your mind. That’s what I thought “closing bowels” meant.