Small Acts Of Charity
Because every human being has a claim upon our kind offices
On our flight to Reno for the Annual Communication of the Grand Lodge of Nevada I was reminded how the smallest of gestures can truly brighten someone’s day.
Shortly before we were to takeoff, a middle aged lady rushed on to the plane and sat in the window seat next to us. It was fairly obvious that she had been crying, and that her day was not going well at all.
Through the early part of the flight she remained quiet, but clearly not doing well.
Eventually salvation came in the form of a flight attendant with a beverage cart. We took the simple step of offering to buy her a glass of wine.
From that moment, she perked right up.
It turns out that she was a very inexperienced flyer, had almost missed her connection, and had fallen down while rushing through the airport. That she didn’t think anything about her trip could go right.
Well, that simple offer of a glass of wine turned her day around. She chatted happily for the rest of the trip, and was clearly in a very good mood when she walked off the plane. A complete turnaround from how she had walked onto it.
Our large and formal Masonic charities are vitally important and we need to support them. We must also remember however that sometimes the best charity is something tiny and unexpected that we can do to brighten someone’s day.
What is the very best way to make Freemasonry relevant in the world again?
Letting people see Masons live out the values we espouse. By doing so we do more to benefit our Fraternity than any number of television commercials or social media posts ever could.
One of my old bosses was very well off. Both him and his wife worked and made significant amounts of money. His wife did their taxes every year.
One day the subject of charity came up in the office. His response was that he let his wife handle all that, and as far as he was concerned, the taxes he paid was enough charity.
Much like that old boss, some masons think the dues they pay is enough charity, or giving away the lodge funds to support one thing or another is being charitable.
Being a mason is more than carrying around a dues card, or raising your left hand to vote on giving a couple hundred dollars to the rainbow girls. You should be active in your lodge, and the community, not to raise awareness of freemasonry, but because it is the right thing to do. There should never be an ulterior motive attached to good works. Or, to put it another way, would you still support a particular cause if you couldn’t attach the square and compasses to it?
Charity is its own reward.
One woman made a comment on some church group doing a charity event that “you’re only doing it because it makes you feel good”. Well, yeah? Shouldn’t we feel good about ourselves doing something nice for other people? Much like Scrooge waking up on Christmas Day and rejoicing that he didn’t miss it, and having a joyous heart to be a better man, we should also fill our hearts with that same feeling. That is the charity the fraternity refers to. A love for humanity that manifests itself with doing good for others.
So true Grand Master. Allow me to cut and paste a brief editorial that I published a few months ago in the District 7 News about my Uncle Chung, a native and resident of South Korea.
You might think you don't see any Korean lineage in me and you’d be right: there isn’t any. But I spoke to Uncle Chung on the phone a few years ago and he told me he was my uncle. He seemed pretty sure of himself. His reasoning was simple. He said that my father was his brother.
My father, our good Brother Ed Gebhart, Jr., deployed to Seoul Korea in 1951. Thankfully this was after the events that led up to the Battle of Inchon, otherwise he might not have come back. I’m grateful that he was a company clerk stationed behind the lines with the 19th Engineer Combat Group, therefore not exposed to enemy fire. But he was exposed to an enemy: the bone chilling cold of the South Korean winter while living in a tent.
I was born after Dad came home from Korea. As a young boy there were only three channels on our black-and-white TV so on occasional nights we enjoyed 35mm slide shows that often featured pictures of Korea. Many were of Chung, a teenaged war orphan. In the early 60s he sent my father a couple letters, but nothing after that.
Fast forward to the mid-80s. One summer afternoon as Dad walked off the 48th Street beach in Ocean City, NJ he noticed a black limousine parked near the jetty. As he cleared the jetty the limo’s back door opened and out stepped Chung, now a high-ranking officer in the South Korean CIA. A joyous reunion ensued and later that day my phone rang. I said hello and the caller, in broken English, said, “I am Uncle Chung, your father is my brother. He saved my life.”
I told my father what Chung said. His modest response was that all he did was scrounge a winter coat for Chung, shared a few rations, and snuck him into the tent on cold nights.
To our good Brother Ed it didn’t seem like much. To Uncle Chung it meant everything. It’s a vivid illustration of a lesson we learn as Masons: No gift is too small.