Every Lent, I ask the high school students in my class what they’re going to “fast” from this year. I receive all sorts of thoughtful answers that range from giving up sweets to giving up social media. Their goals are quite challenging and I’m impressed by their ambition. The concept of fasting and making sacrifices during Lent are well known and, in my experience, widely practiced.
Most of my students have a good grasp on the fact that they’re making room for something better. Often, their abstentions are paired with the intention to increase prayer time, read the Scriptures more, or attend more holy hours.
What we rarely talk about, though - and I’m as guilty as anyone - is almsgiving.
Why almsgiving?
In Lent, the three great spiritual challenges placed before us are fasting, prayer, and alms. The first two we seem to be widely motivated to practice, but alms remain a mystery. We have a vague idea that alms involve giving money away, but other than the basic goodness of charity and love for neighbor, we don’t really know what alms and what effect they have on the giver.
So, almsgiving languishes, but there’s a reason -- a very good reason -- that alms are included in our Lenten devotions.
One of the great practitioners of almsgiving is St. Katharine Drexel, whose feast day is March 3 (often right around the beginning of Lent). Understanding her life and motivations will help us understand the purpose of alms.
Born in Philadelphia in 1858 to wealthy parents, St. Katharine’s life could easily have been different. She probably could have married a tycoon and lived a glittering life in a big East Coast city. It wouldn’t have been wrong or sinful for her to enjoy her privilege. If she had, no one would have blamed her. She had other ideas, though. Her heart was for the less fortunate and she desired a life of almsgiving. She didn’t want to give some alms. She wanted to give everything, including herself.
Learning charity by example
St. Katharine’s mother taught her daughters that, since their family was so very blessed, they had a responsibility to care for the poor. Three times per week, she opened up the family home as a charitable center where the needy could come receive money for rent and medicine. They also gave out food and clothing, probably in excess of $20,000 every year, which was a lot of money at that time (it still is).
The Drexels were so serious about almsgiving that they employed their own private investigator to look into hard cases and be sure their assistance made it to the right families.
When St. Katharine was still young, the family visited Montana, where she encountered the poverty and destitution in the Indian missions. She inquired of the priest there how she could help, and he asked for a statue of Our Lady for the chapel. St. Katharine was happy to oblige and spent her own money to make the purchase.
In my experience, children are excellent almsgivers because they have a natural desire to generosity. They haven’t yet learned to become acquisitive and hardened. Adults, on the other hand, are jaded, sometimes even reprimanding their children for wanting to give alms. There is, of course, a level of prudence required with alms, but we could all stand to be more like St. Katharine’s father who, when he discovered she’d spent her own money for the mission, told her how proud he was.
From loving daughter to foundress
As she grew and became independent, St. Katharine continued the generosity her parents had inspired. She became a major financial supporter of the Indian missions and other charitable enterprises for minorities. Finally, at age 30, she founded a religious order for the purpose of serving those groups.
At first, she’d been inclined to discern a contemplative vocation, but her love of alms turned her to an active vocation. Her new order would be heavily involved in missions and education, and she happily spent the prime of her life gathering religious sisters to join in her work.
In 1935, when she was 77 years old, she suffered a heart attack and for the sake of her health consented to spend her last years in quiet contemplation. She ceased making decisions for the religious order and retired to her little room in the motherhouse. There, she prayed. As her health further declined, she suffered. She had finally been granted her wish to be a contemplative, but in true St. Katharine fashion, even her suffering and prayers were given away as a gift for the underprivileged. St. Katharine dedicated her suffering specifically for them and their salvation. In the end, she became in her very self a gift of alms.
Almsgiving as a show of love
Here is the secret heart of almsgiving. We rededicate ourselves to alms during Lent because the gift is more than a matter of social justice or charity – it’s a sacrifice of love. Going without our favorite candy, not eating meat, spending extra time in prayer, giving alms these are all sacrifices. The more we sacrifice, the more our hearts are turned towards God.
If our sins create a debt, alms are a way of repaying that debt. We give our treasures to others and, in turn, receive a greater treasure from God. We don’t give alms because we are rich but because we are poor. The debt we owe to God can never be repaid, but if we are generous and merciful with others, he has promised that he will, in far greater measure, be generous and merciful with us.
The life of St. Katharine illustrates a few practical considerations when it comes to almsgiving. The first thing we think of is giving money, food, or clothes to the poor. These are good ways to give alms, but St. Katharine displays other ways we can give. Her alms were expansive, covering almost all the spiritual and corporal works of mercy. Alms come in all shapes and sizes, and we can be generous in all sorts of ways every day.
St. Katharine began her life rich in material wealth. By the end of her life, she’d given it all away. I suspect she would’ve been adamant that she died a much richer woman.
