Even those of us who grew up
grubbing pennies know that we
in the industrialized West are drunk
with plenty, fat with an overabundance
of everything we’re told we deserve.
How easily we buy the lie! Never mind that
all our stuff leaves us wanting, our hearts
rumbling loud as our bellies, our souls
wondering where contentment went.
How difficult for us to fathom the joy
of, say, the poor in Calcutta slums, or
indigenous families huddled in hovels
in undeveloped corners of the world.
But what lights many of them from the inside
is their own generosity with one another.
Note, the poor are always faster to offer
a crust of bread than the rich are to invite you
to a meal of extravagant gourmet delights.
The poor, though, have wisely perceived
Life’s secret. Open-handedness, while costly,
is always compensated with boundless
treasure: a tickle in the soul, a gladness,
a moment of pure joy— the natural reward
for sharing. We who have much
foolishly cling to our coins with
sticky fingers, learning late that there is
little joy in the dark of a miserly heart.
Acts 20:32–35