When I was a kid, I had a little combination safe with a red spin dial where I hid away all the cash I’d received from my allowance, birthday gifts, and odd jobs. I was a saver, not a spender, but there was one thing I wanted to do with the money: give it to my parents.
Looking back now, it seems an odd impulse. After all, much of that money my parents had given to me, and I would just be returning it. And it’s not like my folks were in dire financial straights and needed that cash to keep the lights on.
Still, I imagined handing them an envelope with a hundred or two hundred dollars in it—all the money I had—on their wedding anniversary, as a repayment for the great debt that I felt I owed them: the years they sacrificed for the sake of me.
In his provocative book, On the Genealogy of Morals, philosopher Friedrich Nietzsche claims that humans have always seen themselves as in debt to their ancestors, without whom, none of us would exist. Ancient humans developed rites of offerings, sacrifices, and prayers, and over time, their ancestors became larger than life, reified into gods, and then God.
Over the generations the debt to this God—for the very existence of creation itself and all the ways that humans have failed to appreciate it—became so great that nothing we could give would be worthy of repayment. This is why the Christian faith developed what Nietzsche called a very “clever” solution: God would have to repay himself, through the sacrifice of his own first-born, Jesus Christ. The best that the rest of us humans can do is to acknowledge our inadequacy and hope that we are redeemed by proxy.
Maybe because I was raised Evangelical Christian, (and for other reasons too), the feeling that nothing I could give would ever be enough has long been with me. Every year, my parents’ anniversary would come around, and the money I had didn’t feel like enough. Each year, I told myself that I would try again next year, when I could give them even more.
(Of course, my parents told me, both implicitly and explicitly, that the biggest gift I could give them would be my own success and happiness—which, of course, comes with its own head game.)
In several previous newsletters this year, I’ve explored the idea that generosity is an expression of gratitude and reciprocity for the gifts we receive from life. Yet, instead, I often feel that my meager gifts—my donations to charity, birthday presents, and even my own personal and professional successes—are just little ol’ me trying, and failing, to keep up with the debt.
But perhaps that is the point. Perhaps, if I see it as my responsibility to repay every part of my existence, I will always fail. Perhaps there is a great humility, a feeling of undeserving grace, that inevitably comes with the human experience.
You can’t expect to redeem the world by yourself. You can only give the little you have to the big connected whole, and believe it is enough.
I was so intent on giving my parents a big enough return gift that I ended up giving them nothing at all most years.
So now, I am pushing myself to give the little I have to the few I can. I am continuing to tell myself that it is enough.
Weekly Gifts
This year I’m working on my theme of Generosity by giving at least one gift every week of the year, and to chronicle and reflect on them here.
Week 29, Jul 15-21: I bought lunch for a friend in town, happily, joyfully, without a lot of angst. That felt like a win.
Week 30, Jul 22-28: I gave some money to the Harris campaign fund. This did come with some angst because I know that Harris is a politician and part of the great, hegemonic war machine that is the American empire, and that I could and should be giving more money and time to people who are victims of that war machine. But also, I want to help ensure that I can continue to call America a “great, hegemonic war machine” without facing prison time, so.
Week 31, Jul 29-Aug 4: I gave some money to the International Solidarity Movement, which is “a Palestinian-led movement committed to resisting the long-entrenched and systematic oppression and dispossession of the Palestinian population, using non-violent, direct-action methods and principles.”
Week 32, Aug 5-11: A friend offered to let me stay in her room during a group writing retreat, rather than booking a room of my own. She refused to accept any money from me, so I bought her dinner for the two nights we were there, much to her protestation. There’s that feeling of debt again…
Week 33, Aug 12-18: I donated to a local candidate for city counsel Tiffany Koyama Lane, a.k.a. Teacher Tiffany, because, as they say, all politics is local.
Danielle LaSusa Ph.D. is a Philosophical Coach, helping new moms grapple with what it means to make a person. She is the creator of The Meaning of Motherhood course, which explores the changes in identity, meaning, and wisdom that come with motherhood. To join her mailing list, subscribe here.
© Copyright Danielle LaSusa PhD, LCC, 2021. All rights reserved.
