Charity

There are two teachings which deserve a reading in high school, perhaps, but certainly in one’s young adulthood:  The Perennial Philosophy, by Aldous Huxley, and The Varieties of Religious Experience, by William James. I did not read these until I was in my 70s and regret not having read them earlier.

Written during the first half of the 20th Century, they intersect and complement each other in many places. One place they intersect is at the subject of  “charity.”

Having now read these books I now see charity as an easily misunderstood word and concept, or at least one as being variously, inconsistently interpreted. Before reading these books I perceived charity as a neutral, slightly religious term, while my wife Eva finds it a distasteful one, connoting a relationship of superiority of one person over another (e.g., the giver and the receiver of alms).

But this discussion, so far, is off the mark; it is not addressing the fuller, more soulful original meaning of the concept of charity.

According to Huxley, the ‘perennial philosophy’ is:

the metaphysic that recognizes a divine Reality substantial to the world of things and lives and minds; the psychology that finds in the soul something similar to, or even identical with, divine Reality; the ethic that places man’s final end in the knowledge of the immanent and transcendent Ground of all being…Rudiments of the perennial philosophy may be found among the traditional lore of primitive peoples in every region of the world, and in its fully developed forms it has a place in every one of the higher religions.

Aldous Huxley, 1894-1963

In Chapter 5, “Charity,” Huxley writes:

By a kind of philological accident…the word ‘charity’ has come, in modern English, to be synonymous with ‘almsgiving,’ and is almost never used in its original sense, as signifying the highest and most divine form of love…(C)harity is disinterested, seeking no reward, nor allowing itself to be diminished by any return of evil for its good…(P)ersons and things are to be loved for God’s sake, because they are temples of the Holy (Spirit)…The distinguishing marks of charity are disinterestedness, tranquility and humility. But where there is disinterestedness there is neither greed for personal advantage nor fear for personal loss or punishment…


As for Varieties, Wikipedia describes the book thus:

A Study in Human Nature…by the Harvard psychologist and philosopher William James that comprises his edited Gifford Lectures on “Natural Theology” delivered at the University of Edinburgh in Scotland between 1901 and 1902. These lectures concerned the nature of religion and the neglect of science, in James’ view, in the academic study of religion. Soon after its publication, the book found its way into the canon of psychology and philosophy, and has remained in print for over a century.

William James, 1842-1910

James has this to say about charity in his chapter on “Saintliness,” which condition elicits these “practical consequences:” asceticism, strength of soul, purity and charity. Regarding the latter, he writes: “The shifting of the emotional center (toward loving and harmonious affections) brings…increase of charity, tenderness for fellow-creatures…The saint loves his enemies, and treats loathsome beggars as his brothers.”

“…Charity and Brotherly Love.. have always been reckoned essential theological virtues…But these affections are certainly not mere derivatives of theism. We find them in Stoicism, in Hinduism, and in Buddhism in the highest possible degree.”

I found no passage where James, like Huxley in a later time, harked back to an earlier and more apt understanding of the nature of the concept of charity. I take this to mean that the general understanding of the English word in James’s time had not yet made the lamentable change to which Huxley refers.


What is there to glean from this brief exposition on “charity?”

First, I see no essential difference regarding the subject between these two great thinkers.

Second, I see that Huxley’s lament that we have lost the original meaning is importantly true, at least for me.

Neither of these writers was a religionist nor a proselytizer of any creed or faith. Yet, each seemed quite comfortable in quoting from many creeds; and, each shows us most creeds teach that we are innately holy and we should relax and allow our holiness to be manifest.

I conclude that charity resides in one’s soul and is realized by one’s loving actions toward others.

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Like a Visit with an Old Friend

This is the phrase that leaped to mind, unbidden, as I read the first few pages of the “Preface” to Hermann Hesse’s Steppenwolf.

steppenwolfThe familiarity of the words (for I have read them at least thrice), their poetical presentation (even in translation from the German!), the warmth and clarity in the characterizations of the first people we see in this story… these are the paltry words I conjure for a picture much richer in my mind and soul.

I am reminded, even as I begin, how different today’s published novels are from the writing then.

“Then” was merely ninety-four years ago; it was first published ten years before I was born. This forms my perspective. That is, I have read many stories, as a child and youth, which were published beginning the mid-19th Century. In my youth and teen years, I devoured the novels and short stories of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, Edgar Allen Poe, Guy de Maupassant, Mark Twain, “Saki” (H. H. Munro), Victor Hugo. Later, in my twenties, I was enthralled with the writing of Henry James, then later still, Joseph Conrad. Beginning my college years, I learned to love the soliloquies in Shakespeare’s fictional biographies of kings and princes.

Many others could be cited, but these are stored in deep memory, having moved from current memory to make room for the avalanche of information and impressions one is relentlessly confronted with in current times.

One reads these books not only for the story but for the way the words were presented by the author, sometimes author/translator. I look back and thank my father for having such books available to me, despite our otherwise, and temporarily impoverished living conditions. We had wealth beyond what is considered wealth today.

So now you have an idea of my perspective when I read a contemporary fiction such as “Stay with me, by Ayobami Adebayo,” which was recommended to me.

stay with meI found the writing immature and uninspiring,  even if the author was skilled in depicting, sympathetically, the emotional state of the main character who suffered a series of great tragedies throughout her life.

And this is where I become perplexed–the author and her novel are highly regarded:

SHORTLISTED FOR THE 2017 BAILEYS WOMEN’S PRIZE FOR FICTION; LONGLISTED FOR THE 2018 INTERNATIONAL DYLAN THOMAS PRIZE; LONGLISTED FOR THE 2018 WELLCOME BOOK PRIZE; NEW YORK TIMES 100 NOTABLE BOOKS OF 2017 (Source)

Ayobami Adebayo‘s stories have appeared in a number of magazines and anthologies, and one was highly commended in the 2009 Commonwealth Short Story Prize. She holds BA and MA degrees in Literature in English from Obafemi Awolowo University, Ife. She also has an MA in Creative Writing from the University of East Anglia where she was awarded an international bursary for creative writing. She has been the recipient of fellowships and residencies from Ledig House, Hedgebrook, Sinthian Cultural Institute, Ebedi Hills, Ox-Bow School of Arts and Siena Art Institute. She was born in Lagos, Nigeria. In 2017, her debut novel Stay With Me was shortlisted for the Baileys Women’s Prize for Fiction. (Source)

The above is all to the credit of an author who is thirty years old, and whose celebrated novel was written, I assume, through her late twenties in that it was first published when she was 29.

But…

Its appeal is to the emotions, exclusively, in my opinion. There is little depth in the characters, even some equivocal characterization. The words are simple, which is all right indeed, but they are not put together in a way that makes want to slow down to savor their progress.

Why does her writing receive such accolades?

I suppose I am out of touch, being an old, “white,” male.

Back to “Steppenwolf.”

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