Does the word "charity" signify to us what it did to the writer of the epistles to the Corinthians? It is evident from the thirteenth chapter of the first epistle that Paul knew both the meaning and therefore the practice of charity.
The apostle had been talking to the people of Corinth of some of the parts which they might be called upon to play, where opportunity and responsibility go hand in hand. He himself was a man of signal gifts, of fierce energy and eager ambition. He had sought public notice and the influencing of others. He knew the value of ability and the attraction of power. But he knew also that neither men's hearts nor their minds if untouched by Love are to be relied upon. And so he exhorted them, in the midst of all their desire to display their talents and fulfill their various callings, not to let such things be their goal. "Covet earnestly the best gifts," he said to them, "and yet shew I unto you a more excellent way."
And then he set out to tell them that all human attributes and achievements, even the most brilliant, the most sacrificial, were worthless without charity. This was the vision which had flashed with such blinding force upon the man who on his way to Damascus, coveting earnestly the best gifts, had been taught to see that the more excellent way is not that of human will but of human surrender to divine power.
Perhaps there is no word in the English language which has been more abused than charity. And why? Because of the sternness of its uncompromising demand upon the life and character of the individual. A substitute had to be sought in order to dodge its inexorability. Hand in hand with outward forms and tokens taking the place of self-examination and self-discipline, charity came to be regarded not as the evidence of what men are, but of what they choose to give, often at no sacrifice to themselves, to those less favored than are they. Mary Baker Eddy had no such concept of charity. On page 227 of "The First Church of Christ, Scientist, and Miscellany," she writes, "Charity is quite as rare as wisdom, but when charity does appear, it is known by its patience and endurance."
Paul's definition of charity, that it is the fulfilling of the law, was exemplified in the life of Christ Jesus. Thus did he identify himself with the "Son of man which is in heaven." Charity rules out none of the best gifts, but seeks and preserves them in kindness and magnanimity, in humility, in gentleness, in courage, in dignity, and in peace. "For the will and not the gift makes the giver," wrote Lessing. This is the giving unswayed by human impulse, however generous and compassionate, because giving is a mandate of Mind.
As long as men think that they can stage to their personal satisfaction and progressive achievement where and how they give, they have not found, even though the results may appear highly successful, the more excellent way. The test must always lie in the answer to this question, whether the terms of charity are being fulfilled as set forth by Paul. If not, then the real contribution is not merely small; it is nil. On the nature of charity, whether it is from the heart, in sincerity, in the understanding of men's needs, or imbued with some lesser motive and impulse, depends its value, its permanence, and its blessing to him who gives, not less than to him who receives.
The world can be easily deceived into mistaking nothing for something. And when it is, then that which men seek and offer, while it brings a temporary sense of well-being, is in reality a failure. To recognize, to reverence, and to labor for the best gifts, even with complete devotion to duty and to the desired aim, may remove mountains, may cause men to give their bodies to be burned. Nevertheless, if the method and motive are without charity, the work is vain, and those who follow after it are pursuing a myth. That which men do, however consecrated, efficient, remunerative, when without love, brings no spiritual reward; it brings no healing, no redemption; it leaves the new birth still to come. Men may deceive others, they may for a time deceive themselves, with all the paraphernalia of mortal substitutes, but the line between nothing and something, between that which is wrought of love and that which is not, is inexorable, and none can strike it out.
Charity demands mercy and compassion; it calls for alertness to the needs of others, and subordination, even elimination, of personal desire; it illumines and preserves that within us which saves and comforts; it entails knowing ourselves and each other impartially, even as we are known of God. Charity, because it fulfills, is the acme of divine Science. This approximation, this universal expression, is what Jesus called for from his followers, and he demonstrated it to them in his own life.
On page 210 of "Miscellaneous Writings" by Mrs. Eddy we read: "Charity has the courage of conviction; it may suffer long, but has neither the cowardice nor the foolhardiness to cover iniquity. Charity is Love; and Love opens the eyes of the blind, rebukes error, and casts it out." The Christian Scientist learns that to express charity he must maintain his scientific, eternal unity with divine Principle and manifest it in ever-progressive evidence. This is done only in the measure that he lives what he professes to believe. Human will and mortal desires, in small and subtle ways, no less than in those which more easily disclose themselves, are the enemies in the way. In the vision of the Christ, men come to see that there is nothing to covet or fear, for in their understanding of love they have that which bestows and that which preserves.
Job, mourning the days when he had walked in the prosperity of God's love and approbation, remembered how greatly he in his turn had been able to bless. "I was eyes to the blind, and feet was I to the lame," he declared. This is what charity calls upon men to be. This is the love that reflects Love. This comes as the result of doing what Paul had done, putting away childish things, all mortal aims, ambitions, and the human will, to procure them. This is the charity both within and without, expressed in that which, seeking not its own but the good of all, can say with divine assurance, "I know even as also I am known."
