"Another common claim-more often a subtle assumption that is rarely stated explicitly-is that bodily aid is "Christian" only when it is delivered with an equal or greater, and usually obligatory, dose of "spiritual" teaching-evangelism or at least a particular moral attitude in various forms. The modern poet philosopher Wendell Berry illustrates one danger of this approach when a character in his novel Jayber Crow remarks on becoming an orphan, "And so I went out of the hands of love, which certainly included charity as we know it, into the hands of charity as we know it, which included love only as it might." Although we can certainly find early Christian texts that may appear to contain elements of these narrow views, we find many more that do not support them. One biblical example is Galatians 6:10, "So then, whenever we have an opportunity, let us work for the good of all, and especially for those of the family of faith;" the concern suggested by the word "especially" is not the same as it would be if the word here were "exclusively." This text hardly suggests that fellow believers deserve all the available aid. The injunction to help them sets merely a minimum standard. In fact, the broader model of risky generosity seems to have ruled most Christian ideals. Early Christian texts on giving more often condemn those who limit aid as being misers, stingy, people without faith, and people who need to learn from the poor themselves. Gregory of Nazianzus said of such people that they "feel obliged to watch their pennies and bully the helpless."
Certainly the poor who are familiar, those we perhaps know best within our own faith communities, must not be neglected. Perhaps charity begins at home, but if it remains limited within this sphere it breeds discrimination and fear of any outside needs that might threaten its security. And certainly my call to engage personally with those I help implies that I will bring my whole self to the task, including honest, sensitive conversation that may include talking about a wide range of things that I believe to be true. But this is very different from viewing "evangelism" as an essential ingredient in any effective "Christian" aid. In fact, the common idea that in our divestment it is the poor who "need saving" directly conflicts with the differently nuanced theme found in early Christian texts: that the needy poor-even destitute beggars-have a much better chance of understanding religious truth and making it to heaven than do the rich. According to the gospel story, the only hope that the rich have in sharing Abraham's bosom with the beggar, Lazarus, is by a more faithful, active response in this life to the Creator they share in common with the beggar and all that the Creator calls them to do with their available resources and their life. The only soul that the rich person is expected to improve, by thoughtful "righteous" material divestment and redistribution, is her or his own. Those who cling covetously to personal wealth, however eloquent they may be at evangelism, are, according to the patristic writers, more likely to be guilty and at risk of practicing injustice and impurity than the poor, even the poor whose motives or lifestyle might not quite fit our criteria for assistance."
+ Susan R. Holman, God Knows There's Need
And
“Let us learn from this man not to call the rich lucky nor the poor unfortunate. Rather, if we are to tell the truth, the rich man is not the one who has collected many possessions but the one who needs few possessions; and the poor man is not the one who has no possessions but the one who has many desires. We ought to consider this the definition of poverty and wealth. So if you see someone greedy for many things, you should consider him the poorest of all, even if he has acquired everyone’s money. If, on the other hand, you see someone with few needs, you should count him the richest of all, even if he has acquired nothing."
+ St John Chrysostom, On Wealth & Poverty
