The creative power of generosity

One of the things that makes Henri Nouwen's The Return of the Prodigal Son unique is his call to move beyond putting ourselves in the shoes of the younger or older son, and begin seeing ourselves as the father. For Nouwen "becoming the father" did not mean biological fatherhood, instead it meant spending the later years of his life as pastor of a community for mentally handicapped people outside Toronto. Becoming the father is simply obeying our Lord who tells us to "be merciful, even as your Father is merciful." One can begin to "image" the father regardless of age, gender or social station.

Bound up in the mercy so shockingly demonstrated by the father of the parable (and by Jesus) are the concepts of forgiveness and generosity.

Every time I take a step in the direction of generosity, I know that I am moving from fear to love. But these steps, certainly at first, are hard to take because there are so many emotions and feelings that hold me back from freely giving. Why should I give energy, time, money, and yes, even attention to someone who has offended me? Why should I share my life with someone who has shown no respect for it? I might be willing to forgive, but to give on top of that!

Still . . . the truth is that, in a spiritual sense, the one who has offended me belongs to my "kin," my "gen." The word "generosity" includes the term "gen" which we also find in the words "gender," "generation," and "generativity." This term, from the Latin genus and the Greek genos, refers to our being of one kind. Generosity is a giving that comes from the knowledge of that intimate bond. True generosity is acting on the truth—not on the feeling—that those I am asked to forgive are "kinfolk," and belong to my family. And whenever I act this way, that truth will become more visible to me. Generosity creates the family it believes in. (pp. 131-132, emphasis mine)