Victor: I want ... toupée,
please.
Wallace: Oh, grand. We accept cheque or cash.
OK, here’s something I don’t get: why is everyone always so reluctant to allow anyone else to pay for anything for him or her?
Wallace: Oh, grand. We accept cheque or cash.
Wallace & Gromit in The Curse
of the Were-Rabbit (2005)
OK, here’s something I don’t get: why is everyone always so reluctant to allow anyone else to pay for anything for him or her?
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| How long, I wonder, before the £20 note too is superseded by a new plastic version... |
A few examples
may be helpful here. On one occasion, for instance, I was representing the
church I attend at a Church Search event run by my university’s Evangelical
Christian Union;1 because our service starts a bit later than those
of most other churches represented, we went for coffee beforehand, and I
thought that, being the evident senior party relative to the couple of freshers
I was with, it would be appropriate for me to pay for everyone’s drinks. I
mean, first year is a bamboozling and moderately terrifying experience, and I
thought a little gesture of caring on my part thrown into that context wouldn’t
go amiss. How wrong I was. One of the girls was so determined to pay me back
that she declared an intention to stand proffering the correct change for her
beverage choice (and obstructing the progress of the queue as she did so) for
as long as it took until I accepted it. Under such circumstances, I saw no
viable option but to yield, and reluctantly pocketed the cash. Similarly, a
friend of mine stated her inability to attend a planned group Christmas dinner out
last year for financial reasons; I thought it was ridiculous that she should be
absent on account of such an easily solvable problem, and messaged her
privately to express my willingness to pay for her meal. Again, flat-out
refusal – gratitude, but flat-out refusal. And so she missed the dinner.
It’s not as if I’m the only one, either. Upon my narrating such anecdotes as the above to my older sister, she reciprocated with a number of similar ones: friends who have agreed to attend a group meal out but only had drinks because food is too expensive; friends who have offered to pay for a group meal out and been immediately shouted down from all directions, acceptance of the offer being painted as totally out of the question. One of my housemates tells some rather amusing tales of a determination to pay for a meal so passionate on two sides that while one person surreptitiously sneaked up to the bar to pay, the other quietly slipped the pertinent amount of cash into the handbag she had left at the table. I don’t doubt that you have your own stories to similar effect. Perhaps you don’t even think of them as at all worthy of comment: certainly the attitude illustrated can’t be considered abnormal, pervasive as it is. But I don’t think it’s a problem because it’s not normal; I think it’s a problem because it is.
Surely, if someone offers to pay for something for someone – to avoid unwieldy vagueness, shall we say that Pam is offering to pay for Sam’s sandwich2 – the polite thing for Sam to do, namely the thing that implies the highest opinion of Pam, or that affords her the most credit, is to assume that she has counted her armies before going to war,3 as it were, and is entirely capable of paying for his sandwich without either jeopardising her personal finances or allowing herself to be embittered by a feeling of being owed something. Surely the polite thing to do is to assume that Pam is genuinely generous, rather than that she is expecting to be repaid in whatever fashion at some point in the future. And yet, based on conversations I’ve had, a if not the major factor behind Sam’s reluctance to pay is probably that he doesn’t want to feel as if he owes Pam something.
While the desire to be rid of outstanding debts is an entirely commendable one – “owe no one anything, except to love each other”4 – Sam is missing the point. Unless Pam has made it clear that what she is offering is a loan rather than a gift, Sam will owe her nothing if she pays for his sandwich. She would not have offered to pay for it if she didn’t want to. She is trying to do something kind for him, something appreciative, something loving and Christlike, in however small a way (and to be fair, unless the sandwich includes gold leaf among its ingredients5 or is the size of Surrey, it probably is a pretty small way). I really tend to feel that to shout her down without even entertaining the possibility of letting her pay is a little contemptuous of all that. On top of that, suppose that Pam were offering to pay for Cam’s sandwich as well as Sam’s;6 Sam’s refusal sets a precedent, so that Cam may well now feel like a bit of a sponger if she, by contrast, accepts Pam’s offer. Thus Sam subtly impugns Cam’s character as well as Pam’s. Now, I don’t deny that there could well be circumstances in which it would be right for Sam not to let Pam pay – if he knew that she had already got herself into serious financial trouble through reckless generosity, say – but these would be exceptional. Most of the time, for Sam to be so absolutely adamant that Pam should not pay for the sandwich shows a privileging of his own pride over her generosity.
It’s not as if I’m the only one, either. Upon my narrating such anecdotes as the above to my older sister, she reciprocated with a number of similar ones: friends who have agreed to attend a group meal out but only had drinks because food is too expensive; friends who have offered to pay for a group meal out and been immediately shouted down from all directions, acceptance of the offer being painted as totally out of the question. One of my housemates tells some rather amusing tales of a determination to pay for a meal so passionate on two sides that while one person surreptitiously sneaked up to the bar to pay, the other quietly slipped the pertinent amount of cash into the handbag she had left at the table. I don’t doubt that you have your own stories to similar effect. Perhaps you don’t even think of them as at all worthy of comment: certainly the attitude illustrated can’t be considered abnormal, pervasive as it is. But I don’t think it’s a problem because it’s not normal; I think it’s a problem because it is.
Surely, if someone offers to pay for something for someone – to avoid unwieldy vagueness, shall we say that Pam is offering to pay for Sam’s sandwich2 – the polite thing for Sam to do, namely the thing that implies the highest opinion of Pam, or that affords her the most credit, is to assume that she has counted her armies before going to war,3 as it were, and is entirely capable of paying for his sandwich without either jeopardising her personal finances or allowing herself to be embittered by a feeling of being owed something. Surely the polite thing to do is to assume that Pam is genuinely generous, rather than that she is expecting to be repaid in whatever fashion at some point in the future. And yet, based on conversations I’ve had, a if not the major factor behind Sam’s reluctance to pay is probably that he doesn’t want to feel as if he owes Pam something.
While the desire to be rid of outstanding debts is an entirely commendable one – “owe no one anything, except to love each other”4 – Sam is missing the point. Unless Pam has made it clear that what she is offering is a loan rather than a gift, Sam will owe her nothing if she pays for his sandwich. She would not have offered to pay for it if she didn’t want to. She is trying to do something kind for him, something appreciative, something loving and Christlike, in however small a way (and to be fair, unless the sandwich includes gold leaf among its ingredients5 or is the size of Surrey, it probably is a pretty small way). I really tend to feel that to shout her down without even entertaining the possibility of letting her pay is a little contemptuous of all that. On top of that, suppose that Pam were offering to pay for Cam’s sandwich as well as Sam’s;6 Sam’s refusal sets a precedent, so that Cam may well now feel like a bit of a sponger if she, by contrast, accepts Pam’s offer. Thus Sam subtly impugns Cam’s character as well as Pam’s. Now, I don’t deny that there could well be circumstances in which it would be right for Sam not to let Pam pay – if he knew that she had already got herself into serious financial trouble through reckless generosity, say – but these would be exceptional. Most of the time, for Sam to be so absolutely adamant that Pam should not pay for the sandwich shows a privileging of his own pride over her generosity.
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| Not quite the size of Surrey, but definitely very well stuffed. Mmm, pulled pork. |
Pride, indeed, may
well be the real heart of the issue here. Sam, I surmise, though he may not
realise it in terms quite so explicit, probably sees his ability to pay for his
own sandwich as a marker of his being a worthwhile member of society. To let
Pam pay for it – unless he is going to pay for her sandwich at some later date
and so essentially end up paying for his own after all – would carry
connotations of him not always being able to do things for himself; it would
strike a blow at his subconscious belief that he is a self-sufficient island
dependent on nobody else; it would colour him in some sense weak. And
Sam can’t be having that. He would rather prop up the illusion of his own
self-sufficiency – and the pride that rests on it – than allow Pam a chance to
be generous.
But here’s the newsflash: we’re not supposed to be self-sufficient. Check out Romans 12. Here is one of the occasions whereon Paul sketches that metaphor he’s so fond of about the Church being like a body with many differently-functioning parts:
For as in one body we have many members, and the members do not all have the same function, so we, though many, are one body in Christ, and individually members of one another. Having gifts that differ according to the grace given to us, let us use them: if prophecy, in proportion to our faith; if service, in our serving; the one who teaches, in his teaching; the one who exhorts, in his exhortation; the one who contributes, in generosity; the one who leads, with zeal; the one who does acts of mercy, with cheerfulness.7
So the ability to contribute financially to the benefit of the people of God is here listed (emphasis mine, of course) as a gift, like teaching or encouragement or leadership. If we’re not embarrassed to benefit from our fellow-believers’ exercise of these other kinds of gifts – and I feel sure we all recognise that it would be downright silly, not to mention spiritually damaging, to try to get by without input from anyone else on such fronts – then why should we be embarrassed to benefit from our fellow-believers’ exercise of their gift of generosity? If God has blessed Pam with the gift of material wealth, doesn’t it represent something of a rejection of his design for the Church if Sam flatly refuses to allow her to contribute to his needs? Doesn’t it suggest that he is still labouring under the illusion that his wealth is his own and Pam’s hers, rather than recognising that all of it is a gift from God, which he has apportioned, like all gifts, so that it might be used in service of his kingdom and his people?
Furthermore, if Sam can’t bring himself to accept even the gift of a sandwich from a fellow-believer, how is it that he nonetheless finds himself able to accept the uniquely, phenomenally, astoundingly generous gift God gave when he offered up his Son to secure the salvation of sinners? How far does he really understand that gift, its enormity, and the utter impossibility of ever earning it back?
My rejection of the principle of reciprocity,8 just to be clear, is not an assertion that we should be willing to accept generosity without ever being generous ourselves. It is abundantly clear that God calls us to be generous.9 On the contrary, what I’m exhorting is that we make space for others to exercise that gift as well as exercising it ourselves. And indeed, adelphoi,10 I do exhort you: let’s distinguish ourselves from the world in this matter. Let’s reject the sin of pride and the illusion of self-sufficiency and embrace the fact that God designed the Church to be interdependent. Let’s provide the opportunity for one another to demonstrate the gift of generosity according to the measure in which it is apportioned to each, and so to show the love that Jesus tells us is the hallmark of those who follow him.
And, for crying out loud, let’s allow Pam to pay for the sandwich.
But here’s the newsflash: we’re not supposed to be self-sufficient. Check out Romans 12. Here is one of the occasions whereon Paul sketches that metaphor he’s so fond of about the Church being like a body with many differently-functioning parts:
For as in one body we have many members, and the members do not all have the same function, so we, though many, are one body in Christ, and individually members of one another. Having gifts that differ according to the grace given to us, let us use them: if prophecy, in proportion to our faith; if service, in our serving; the one who teaches, in his teaching; the one who exhorts, in his exhortation; the one who contributes, in generosity; the one who leads, with zeal; the one who does acts of mercy, with cheerfulness.7
So the ability to contribute financially to the benefit of the people of God is here listed (emphasis mine, of course) as a gift, like teaching or encouragement or leadership. If we’re not embarrassed to benefit from our fellow-believers’ exercise of these other kinds of gifts – and I feel sure we all recognise that it would be downright silly, not to mention spiritually damaging, to try to get by without input from anyone else on such fronts – then why should we be embarrassed to benefit from our fellow-believers’ exercise of their gift of generosity? If God has blessed Pam with the gift of material wealth, doesn’t it represent something of a rejection of his design for the Church if Sam flatly refuses to allow her to contribute to his needs? Doesn’t it suggest that he is still labouring under the illusion that his wealth is his own and Pam’s hers, rather than recognising that all of it is a gift from God, which he has apportioned, like all gifts, so that it might be used in service of his kingdom and his people?
Furthermore, if Sam can’t bring himself to accept even the gift of a sandwich from a fellow-believer, how is it that he nonetheless finds himself able to accept the uniquely, phenomenally, astoundingly generous gift God gave when he offered up his Son to secure the salvation of sinners? How far does he really understand that gift, its enormity, and the utter impossibility of ever earning it back?
My rejection of the principle of reciprocity,8 just to be clear, is not an assertion that we should be willing to accept generosity without ever being generous ourselves. It is abundantly clear that God calls us to be generous.9 On the contrary, what I’m exhorting is that we make space for others to exercise that gift as well as exercising it ourselves. And indeed, adelphoi,10 I do exhort you: let’s distinguish ourselves from the world in this matter. Let’s reject the sin of pride and the illusion of self-sufficiency and embrace the fact that God designed the Church to be interdependent. Let’s provide the opportunity for one another to demonstrate the gift of generosity according to the measure in which it is apportioned to each, and so to show the love that Jesus tells us is the hallmark of those who follow him.
And, for crying out loud, let’s allow Pam to pay for the sandwich.
Footnotes
1 A fab bunch of people: https://www.exeterecu.com/.
2 All nouns lifted from the finale song of an episode of Words and Pictures Plus that I was particularly fond of as a child (I genuinely loved educational programming; apparently I was a nerd even from the cradle, so to speak). A few episodes of the programme (though not, it appears, the pertinent one) have been archived on YouTube, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Tp_ZgqEPmCM&list=PLGmSa8H8FofZcsdQlk2D68U2YkxrmQh9b, if, for some mad reason, you want to see what it was like. The lyrics of the aforementioned song, as I recall them, went something like this: “Spreading on the butter – Sam likes ham. / Spreading on the butter – Pam likes jam. / I like cheese; it’s just the way I am. / Let’s make a Sam ham Pam jam sandwich.”
3 I here allude to Luke 14:31, but don’t read too much into it.
4 That’s Romans 13:8.
5 That said, there’s an absolutely excellent milkshake bar in my city where one can buy a ‘Millionaire’s Milkshake’, including 23-carat gold-leaf flakes sprinkled on top, for a mere £12.99, http://www.shakeaway.com/index.php/menu/main-menu, so maybe a gold-leaf sandwich wouldn’t actually be that expensive, although it would seem ludicrously decadent on principle anyway.
6 Admittedly, no Cam features in the sandwich song mentioned above, but I needed another character and, you know, it rhymed.
7 Whole chapter: https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Romans+12&version=ESVUK.
8 I also had a bit of a go about this in ‘The Present Situation’, under ‘2015’, then ‘December’ in the box on the right.
9 And just because I can’t bring myself to assert that without backing it up at all, I’ll chuck Deuteronomy 15:7-8, Proverbs 19:17, and 1 John 3:17 at you, but honestly that hardly scratches the surface.
10 A useful term of address for one’s fellow-believers, I think: using a transliteration rather than a translation of the Greek spares one both the apparent androcentrism of ‘brothers’ and the unwieldy lengthiness of ‘brothers and sisters’. Shall we try to instigate a trend, or am I just being pretentious again?
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