Many years ago, my husband and I received an embarrassingly expensive Christmas gift from new friends, and my husband felt obliged to respond in kind. The next day, he did. Later, we talked about it, and agreed not to let ourselves get caught up on the tit-for-tat gift cycle ever again.
Recently, someone asked whether we are obliged to those who give to us; whether receiving creates an obligation to give back.
In the matter of gift-giving, many seem to think it does. And that sense of obligation can be so strong that whole Christmas seasons are swallowed up by frantic attempts to anticipate who most likely will or will not give gifts this year, the probable value or uniqueness of their gift, and trying to match it closely enough to avoid feeling embarrassed, indebted or socially inept.
Socially and economically, in traditional societies where objects given may also have significant symbolic significance, like food, necklaces, gold or goats, this can make good sense. Gift-giving and receiving are vital elements of social etiquette, of respecting and reinforcing socially-approved relationships. In traditional societies where social roles, status and relations are formal and strongly proscribed, it can be a way of circulating goods and services.
What about kindness? Are we obliged to return acts of kindness?
I have mixed thoughts about this. If someone asks to borrow something I own or asks for a loan, and I give it, I consider that person obliged to return or repay it, and would probably be a little miffed if they tried to offer me something else instead. A friend once invited me to lunch, and at the meal's end, declared that this was repayment for a $50 loan. Not to me! As far as I was concerned, he was still indebted to me .... and remained so until I chose (without telling him) to let it go.
If someone does me a favor, though, like volunteer to plant a tree for me or prune back a vine, I might reciprocate with a book he likes or a pot of soup. But am I indebted to him for his kindness? I don't think so.
Yet we all know someone who, having voluntarily done us a favour or service without being asked to, later 'calls' us on that favour: "You owe me, remember?" I dislike that, and even if I do 'repay that debt', I mentally determine never to accept a 'kindness' from that person again because a sincere Thank You does not, to my thinking, mean I Owe You.
My thought on kindness is that true kindness carries no debt, no burden of obligation other than to return that which is borrowed. To me, the universe seems to work on a natural law of reciprocity in which good draws goodness to it. Kindness is, to me, part of this natural law, and if allowed to and not constrained by our social conditioning and fears, flows naturally towards and out of us. As surely as breathing in initiates an out-breath, when we act from Being, from our true selves, kindness received flows into kindness given.
What about 'deserving'? Being worthy of our help or kindness? That's the other side of this conversation. Do we hold back from helping others because they don't seem to deserve our help?
I do not think that worthiness or unworthiness are our concern. I might not always give the help needed or asked for, even if I could, but for other reasons.
What might inhibit my helpfulness is the person's willingness or unwillingness to take responsibility for themselves. If the person keeps doing what is harmful or causes problems, and has been gently advised again and again that he/she is creating the conditions for those problems; if the person refuses to take action, any action, and waits for others to 'fix' their problems, then I will generally leave them to their own devices.
After all, they might need to learn the hard way; maybe they choose not to learn; maybe they actually like having their problems and having others try to help. Or maybe they entered this life agreeing to experience just those challenges, or to learn through experience the kinds of difficulties caused by not taking responsibility for one's life.
When help requested is given, there is a kind of accountability. 'Go and sin no more.' Or 'I'll help you, but please, don't do this again.'
This can be very hard to do with those we love, but it can be a loving action that says, 'I know you have it in you to handle this. Here is a little boost, and I will be here to support, but the rest is up to you.'
We may offer help or offer guidance several times, many times, but if nothing changes, perhaps the best we can do is stand compassionately aside.
But unworthiness? 'He doesn't deserve my help?' No.
Who of us is worthy of all that we have received in this life? Who is so superior that he can withhold help from one who needs it, who needs that hand up, that hand out, that boost, because the person doesn't 'deserve' it. Who of us, who have been given and forgiven so much, can refuse to help where we can?
The penitent knight, by Edward Burne-Jones.
