Uncharitable Thoughts - a Cupboard full of Coats

A Cupboardful of Coats

It’s not always easy to distinguish between a religion and a cult. Australian tax law, for example, doesn’t even try, giving that status to virtually any sincerely held set of beliefs. If you look, though, at the kind of groups that get called cults in the media, they do seem to have one thing in common – they’re very good indeed at fundraising from their members. So good, in fact, that this is taken as proof of their evil and antisocial nature, proof that they’re shearing their sheep.

Devotees give 10% , or half, or all of their income to the sect. They sell their homes to be able to give more. They live on scraps and wear rags. And they do this voluntarily – under pressure, yes, but not under duress. Those of us not under the influence of cult leaders look on with horror at this deviant behaviour.

Which is in some ways odd, because the kind of behaviour that we regard as anywhere from deluded to borderline insane is rather close to what most religions actually suggest is a good thing. There we find a value structure where the default setting isn’t “I keep everything I need and give away what’s left over” but rather “I give away everything and keep what I need to sustain life.” John the Bap tist, for example, said firmly “ Whoever has two coats must share with anyone who has none. ” Most people today look at that and say “Well, that doesn’t apply to me – I have three coats. Completely different scenario.”

You might, perhaps, grade organisations on what they do with your coat when you give it up. Some give it out to the poor, some feel it should be sold to provide capital for expansion, some feel that divine providence wills that it go to the sect leader. These goals are distinguishable, and we certainly shouldn’t regard members’ willingness to sacrifice as evidence of the value of the goals of the organisation, or the truth of its beliefs.

It’s a little disturbing, though, that the most generous people all seem to be involved with the most stigmatised organisations. Why can’t the rest of us divert just a little of that – well, what do you call it? fanaticism ? dedication ? sacrifice ? altruism ? – to the things we care about, sort of, in a kind of a way? The best lack all conviction, while the worst are full of passionate intensity, as W.B. Yeats commented (placing himself and his readers comfortably on the ‘best’ side of the line, to be sure).

At this point I must declare an interest. I myself have more than two coats – hell, I have more than two coats even after putting to one side all the ones that have worn out at the elbows or grown too tight or become fashion outcasts. And I haven’t been looking very hard for the people who have none. I’m really not up for the hard stuff.

I’m going to end this piece, in fact, with the usual wishy-washy compromise – if we all do a little more, blah blah . Because I don’t have the conviction, or the fanaticism, or the courage, to flip the default switch over to “Sell all that you have and give to the poor”, and I thus can’t ask you to.

But that’s the alternative. It’s always sitting there, just out of our direct vision. And bringing it up now may push some of us to lift our giving a little, just to push it a little further out of sight. And that’s a good thing, right?