Elisha, the Widow, and Effective Charity

Elisha, the Widow, and Helping the Poor

It is common to profess concern for the poor. But much of this is mere sentiment. In The Tragedy of American Compassion, Marvin Olasky documented how the definition of the word “compassion” was changed in the dictionary over time—from its Latin roots (com-pati meaning “to suffer with”) to merely feeling sorry for someone. “True” compassion requires action, beyond simple emotion and getting one’s hands dirty.

A Role for Government?

Many of those who purport to care most about the poor are fond of using government as a means to addressing poverty. This fails the “compassion” test above, but it falls short on other grounds as well. For example, in addition to the troubling ethics of taking money from Peter to pay Paul, using the impersonal bureaucratic systems of government hardly fits the bill.

Another problem: Government specializes in brute-force material approaches. This can work relatively well to build things or blow things up. But when circumstances vary so much and nuance is key, it’s difficult to imagine inflexible mechanical policies being effective. Government might ably address the short-term material aspects of poverty—by giving food or cash to people. But it is generally unable to provide what each poor person really requires to make progress. As Olasky notes, the poor often need our time and energy—and even when we provide resources, we’re stingy with what is most important.

In his classic book on public policy, In Pursuit of Happiness and Good Government, Charles Murray uses Maslow’s hierarchy to describe the frequent tradeoffs within efforts to help the poor. A haunting question emerges: What if gains in one part of the hierarchy come at the expense of other goals? For example, what if providing material assistance undermines the agency and self-actualization of the indigent? Alternatively, how can welfare policies address both in a positive manner?

Government is also prone to what economists call the “welfare dilemma”—a type of “moral hazard” problem where subsidizing an undesirable state leads to more people in that state. In a word, it is impossible to provide assistance without reducing incentives to work. When you give people money, they’re less likely to work. And if a welfare program has a “benefit reduction rate” (less assistance as you earn more money and need less help), then work is further disincentivized.

Likewise, most subsidies are predicated on not being married. This encourages the formation of single-parent households, with all of the unfortunate statistical outcomes that follow for kids raised in those settings. Finally, note that longer assistance is more likely to breed long-term dependence. Giving more help for more time creates inevitable tradeoffs that we ignore at our peril and the peril of those we try to help.

It’s easy to be critical of government for all of the above. But most of these concepts can also be problematic for charity. Although it would be surprising if government handled this complicated topic well, private efforts can also encourage long-term dependence, foster sloth, and dehumanize the human person. (Corbett and Fikkert have a great book on this within charity and ministry: When Helping Hurts.)

We understand this in other aspects of life. Don’t feed the bears. Think twice before giving your kid a candy bar in the checkout aisle at the grocery store. How much should I help my child with the science project? Don’t choose a coach or teacher who will coddle you. When am I enabling rather than actually helping my friend? But in ministry, missions, and charity, we often overlook the inherent tensions within our efforts to try to love others well.

What Does the Bible Say?

The Bible speaks to all of these principles—from negative concerns about government policy to positive principles about effective charity. The New Testament describes principles and examples—in particular, as the Early Church lived out Christian community in what is often described as “socialism”. Even if that’s the right term (likewise, one could consider families a form of socialism), the Christian versions were voluntary and small-scale—in contrast to the immense ethical and practical problems with coercive and large-scale government efforts.

In the Old Testament, the Law is replete with rules and institutions that effectively addressed poverty in Israel. The book of Ruth has the most prominent narrative example—as Boaz subsidizes Ruth’s work in the field and then plays the role of “kinsman-redeemer” in rescuing Ruth and Naomi from poverty and childlessness. The power of the story is underlined when we read that the child of Boaz and Ruth is in the lineage of King David and Jesus Christ.

Elisha and the Widow

There is a less popular story that is arguably more useful in illustrating effective charity: the prophet Elisha helping a widow and her two sons in II Kings 4:1-7. As the narrative opens, the widow of a fellow prophet comes to Elisha, worried that creditors will seize her two sons as “slaves”. The relevant institution in the Law is what we would call “indentured servitude”—a limited period of “slavery” to survive and pay off one’s debts.

Life would be tough enough when her husband was dead and gone, especially in that time and place. But the text doesn’t explain why they were in debt prior to his death. Was it persecution by the hostile king, life circumstances, or a bad character trait? Elisha probably knows from his relationships with the prophets, but he doesn’t seem to care about the cause. Even if the husband and wife could have been more effective stewards, that’s of little importance now.

As such, Elisha asks “how can I help?” First, note that Elisha is not too busy or important to get involved. When you read the account of his life, he was active with kings and even international affairs. But this was no impediment to him embracing everyday ministry opportunities with “the little people”. In the parable of the “Good Samaritan” (Luke 10), Jesus makes the same point. Among the reasons why the priest and Levite would have been reluctant to get involved, “too busy” was on the list. As per Olasky, the Samaritan exercised (true) compassion by making time for someone in need.

Then, Elisha asks her “what do you have?” Her answer is, in essence, “not much”—only a little bit of olive oil. She actually has much more than that—time, energy, knowledge, skills, and her network of family, friends, and neighbors. Elisha’s prescription will use what she has acknowledged and harness what she has not recognized as resources. Good charity does the same.

His instructions: Get all the jars in the neighborhood and pour your oil into them. The implication is that the oil will be miraculously expanded. Her faithful participation results in miraculous provision—what could be considered the world’s first oil well! From there, Elisha tells her to sell the oil to pay their debts and care for her family. Faith, obedience, and humility. The individual working in community. Honor your commitments and look to the future. Diligent effort using available resources. In sum, the best kind of charity.

From a biblical perspective, the charity is effective in an ultimate sense, because it maximizes glory to a good and great God, instead of the giver. Notice how Elisha tells her to close the door and he removes himself from the location to avoid taking credit for the miracle. Think how this differs with politicians claiming credit for modest success, while ignoring the immense costs of their efforts.

Elisha mitigates the welfare dilemma with a one-time charitable offer. This is not going to be a repeated handout. And the provision would allow her a long-term source of wealth, income, work, and dignity. But it was also limited by the number of jars she could collect and each jar’s capacity. And it was connected to the extent of her faith and humility. (One can imagine scenarios where she would be tempted to avoid asking certain people.)

The charity involved her and her children. It required effort within the blessing. She collected jars, poured the oil, and engaged in selling the oil afterwards. The method did not require coercion or income redistribution. It enhanced the local economy through additional resources—like manna from heaven or what was equivalent to a temporary form of technological advance. It was a blessing to all who participated.

Spiritually, this promoted humility—having to ask for what she didn’t have. But it also promoted human dignity, empowering her along the lines of the material provision she brought to the table. It harnessed both personal responsibility and community involvement. And one can imagine how material assistance would easily extend to the social, the psychological, and the spiritual.

My ministry partner and I have developed discipleship curricula and training for the local church (“Thoroughly Equipped” and “Getting Equipped”). When we work with our African ministry partner, Hope Alive Initiatives, they are always aiming for empowerment and multiplication. What can people do with what they already have? How can they develop their leaders and their laypeople? Whether they start a new school, church, or business, they take steps to multiply leaders and entrepreneurs. It’s tempting to drop resources on poor people in Africa and elsewhere, but will that help as much in the long-run?

In the Parable of the Talents (Matthew 25), it’s telling that the two servants with more resources are quite effective at stewarding what they’ve been given to invest. They are commended as “good and faithful”; they are blessed with more resources to steward; and they get to join in the master’s joy. But the one-talent servant makes excuses and fails in his stewardship. One lesson is clear: Work diligently with what you’ve been given, rather than focusing on what they don’t have. Likewise, the implications for charity follow closely: Exercise compassion, finding ways to encourage people to work well with what they have been given.