Is there a distinction between public and private?

A more personal view of last week's discussion on giving to the poor

Freeman Gage Delamotte, “Charity” (lithograph), 1864. Courtesy of The Met.

“Beware of practicing your righteousness before other people in order to be seen by them, for then you will have no reward from your Father who is in heaven.

“Thus, when you give to the needy, sound no trumpet before you, as the hypocrites do in the synagogues and in the streets, that they may be praised by others. Truly, I say to you, they have received their reward. But when you give to the needy, do not let your left hand know what your right hand is doing, so that your giving may be in secret. And your Father who sees in secret will reward you.

~Matthew 6:1–4

Last week, I focused on understanding how the Internet-shaped world understands philanthropy.

This week, let’s turn our attention inwards.

Despite the blurring of personal and professional boundaries that working from home brings to some of us, I imagine it’s relatively easy for all of us to imagine a clear line between our public and private lives. Publicly, we’re professionals: scrubbing our social media presence, keeping our kids in line at restaurants, engaged in our communities, friendly chit-chatters and small-talkers with colleagues.

Privately, with our guards down, our families and closest friends see our “real” selves—our unvarnished selves, our needy selves.

In this teaching, Jesus turns this simplistic public-private distinction upside-down, suggesting it’s too easy a way to understand ourselves. Instead of a clear line between public and private, we each need to realize that there’s a constant flow from one to the other, with each shaping the other.

Those who give in public, to show off their righteousness before others—their character becomes miserly, needy, desperate as they begin to need the affirmation of those around them to do even the simplest good work. At least initially, they perform these good works publicly because the works are good, and they know this will get them the attention they seek. Gradually, though, they forget the goodness of the deed, because it’s all about them. In their public lives, they sought to perform good deeds for others; their selfish motives soon take over and they lose sight of the goodness altogether. What you do shapes who you are.

But this truth works the opposite way, too:

By giving in secret, you’re forcing yourself to stay focused on the good as the end in itself. Giving is good, not because of what it says about you, but because people are in need. Honing your focus on doing good simply because it is good, you become a better person—you aren’t focused on what your actions do for you, or show about you, but rather on how others can be helped through you.

But isn’t there a subtle threat here? The threat of resentment? I think we all know the type of person who does things in semi-private, wanting to be seen as doing good privately—trying to get the best of both worlds. If I’m honest, there are plenty of times when I’ve acted this way myself. With this mindset, anger and bitterness build up when the desired recognition isn’t forthcoming. This is even more dangerous than the simple public performance of good works, because it’s so easy for us to deceive ourselves. (At least the hypocrites are honest about what they’re up to!) It’s why Nietzsche was so disgusted by the Christianity around him in nineteenth century Germany—he saw the pietistic strain of Christianity as a resentment factory.

I think this very issue is why Jesus says, “when you give to the needy, do not let your left hand know what your right hand is doing.” Your giving needs to be secret even from yourself: otherwise you’re just performing your good deeds for yourself, secretly thinking “Look at me! If others could only see me now, they’d really be impressed!”

Keep your goodness so secret that you don’t ever dwell on your own good works. Keep goodness in front of you, as a target you’re aiming at, a destination you’re heading toward. Forget whatever good things you may have done; just keep aiming, keep moving toward the goal. This is the only way to safety navigate between the Scylla of performative hypocrisy and the Charybdis of resentful bitterness.

It’s not easy to be authentically good in a world filled with performative goodness, but Jesus shows us the way.

---

Note: you might notice the new title for this newsletter—it’s not set in stone, but I would like to have a title that’s not quite so bland. If you have thoughts one way or the other, I’d be happy to hear them. Just response to this post. Thank you!

---