Lent is here. Alms Must Be Given. Or else.
In the prolonged spiritual and penitential season now calling to Christians, the from-antiquity practice of alms-giving—by tradition and teaching, with prayer and fasting, one of the three “pillars” that define Lenten worship—wins the Bronze. As an actual thing, a duty, it seems at best an afterthought to many pew-sitters, trained to channel their giving through envelopes and collection baskets, and maybe even a confusing topic (just what are “alms”?). Grabbing more attention and actual penitential activity are other practices of these 40 days and nights: Occasional fasting (albeit for Orthodox, done through Lent’s entirety), abstinence (Fridays, which from youth meant fish sticks for dinner), increased prayer (and those with a more intense connection to the season, such as the Stations of the Cross), church attendance beyond what is obligatory (particularly during Holy Week), outward signs (ashes and palms), sacrifice (more commonly known as things “given up”—swearing, candy, booze, smoking, TV, and now, social media), maybe even Confession (Oh my, it’s been a year), and when needed MAYDAY angling for dispensations (the crisis of then what’s gonna happen to the corned beef when Saint Patrick’s Day falls on a Friday?!).
The religious reality of and obligation to render alms may be a matter more heightened and discussed from pulpits in other mansions in My Father’s House, but the experience of this practicing (poorly!) Catholic is that worshippers are less attuned to the need to give them.
Or even to understand “alms.” What are they, and why give them?
Speaking personally: Despite elementary, secondary, and college education in parochial and religious institutions, “alms” never made the cut as a topic. Nor can I recall ever, not once, hearing a sermon dedicated to them. Their centrality to Lent may be relegated to mere mentions and a snippet in an obscure corner of the parish bulletin.
As one of the three major means of engaging in penance to prepare for the Resurrection and the triumphal essence of Easter, almsgiving should fare better than being an afterthought.
Brothers and sisters in Abraham, fellow Christians out of sorts with Rome, will forgive the continued papal emphases, as we enquire: Just what does Catholicism say about Lent and almsgiving?
America’s bishops answer:
The foundational call of Christians to charity is a frequent theme of the Gospels. During Lent, we are asked to focus more intently on "almsgiving," which means donating money or goods to the poor and performing other acts of charity. As one of the three pillars of Lenten practice, almsgiving is "a witness to fraternal charity" and "a work of justice pleasing to God." (Catechism of the Catholic Church, no. 2462).
The modern Catechism offers no full-bore focus on this essential mercy—there is no “Rules for Almsgiving.” Still, it anchors a foundation for almsgiving in the Seventh Commandment’s admonition against stealing, the Beatitudes, and the mandate to love thy neighbor. The doctrinal tome professes that helping “those who are oppressed by poverty” is a central tenet of the faith, and an obligation of the Church, “which, since her origin and in spite of the failings of many of her members, has not ceased to work for their relief, defense, and liberation through numerous works of charity which remain indispensable always and everywhere.”
The Catechism continues:
Beginning with the Old Testament, all kinds of juridical measures (the jubilee year of forgiveness of debts, prohibition of loans at interest and the keeping of collateral, the obligation to tithe, the daily payment of the day-laborer, the right to glean vines and fields) answer the exhortation of Deuteronomy: “For the poor will never cease out of the land; therefore I command you, ‘You shall open wide your hand to your brother, to the needy and to the poor in the land.’” Jesus makes these words his own: “The poor you always have with you, but you do not always have me.” In so doing he does not soften the vehemence of former oracles against “buying the poor for silver and the needy for a pair of sandals . . .,” but invites us to recognize his own presence in the poor who are his brethren.
The Catechism’s predecessors—including The Catechism of the Council of Trent—was far more fulsome and explicit about almsgiving (also known as “almsdeeds”), which “cannot be insisted on too often or too strongly,” and its relation not only to salvation, but also to damnation:
The pastor, therefore, should encourage the faithful to be willing and anxious to assist those who have to depend on charity, and should make them realise the great necessity of giving alms and of being really and practically liberal to the poor, by reminding them that on the last day God will condemn and consign to eternal fires those who have omitted and neglected the duty of almsgiving, while on the contrary He will praise and introduce into His heavenly country those who have exercised mercy towards the poor. These two sentences have been already pronounced by the lips of Christ the Lord: Come, ye blessed of my Father, possess the kingdom prepared for you; and: Depart front me, ye cursed, into everlasting fire.
Beyond such catechisms, the Catholic faith’s greatest teacher, Saint Thomas Aquinas, concurs that almsgiving is profound as concerns eternity:
There is a time when we sin mortally if we omit to give alms; on the part of the recipient when we see that his need is evident and urgent, and that he is not likely to be succored otherwise—on the part of the giver, when he has superfluous goods, which he does not need for the time being, as far as he can judge with probability.
Be not aloof. This is serious business, almsgiving, for the receiver of charity, and for the giver of mercy . . . a role from which no one is excluded. Central to salvation, almsgiving merits more propagation, attention, activity, and practice.
Affected as we might be by memories of movie clips where some destitute soul sits with outstretched arms and repeats to passersby, “Alms for the poor!”—the spiritual fact is, for Christians, and surely too for the sons and daughters of Abraham, whose Testament is replete with alms-urging, that there is a more serious business than dropping coins in the poor box and loose change in the beggar’s cup.
Lent is here, just in time to reboot the strategic plan for eternity. The mind has been concentrated. Alms need to be understood. And given. Plentiful and intentionally. Join me. Or else.
