Generosity Shouldn’t be a Strategy. It’s a Value.

I can't get an ancient proverb out of my head.

"One gives freely, yet grows all the richer; another withholds what he should give, and only suffers want."

I can't think of a better core principle for community building than this. Of the previous communities I've belonged to, every last one of my favorites were each built upon generosity.

My least favorites had unhealthy, or even merely "ethical" practices at the top. These were communities where paid staff weren't paid fairly. Where volunteers were treated as replaceable objects. Where the vision was unclear, and something other than belonging was what they were after.

In short, selfish communities will never result in belonging. No matter how well you can coat your language in the right inclusive terminology, people will sniff it out. None of us trust the leader who says, "Trust me…" Trustworthy people never need to say this.

The same is true of communities. Unless we feel that the community is a generous space, we will likely never participate in it.

But building a culture of generosity demands so much of us. Every one of us knows that in order to transform a space from "just okay" to "abundantly generous" is an arduous task.

It's a cultural issue. And changing a group's internal culture is the easiest thing to give up on.

Several years ago, I read a book about how cultures form, grow, and have the potential to change. Author Andy Crouch wrote this thought, in his book Culture Making, that has stuck with me:

"The only way to change culture is to create more of it."

Creating a culture of generosity cannot be done overnight. It can't be done in theory either. It has to be practiced in bite-sized investments in the whole of what makes your community tick.

I had a college professor who turned every classroom into a generous community. How he did it still flummoxes me to this day. His name was Murray. Murray is the reason I met and began dating my wife. He constantly had his students in his office, over to his home, he invited anyone and everyone into his world.

Murray worked at a school in Cameroon for many years. There, he learned what it meant to be someone who oozed generosity.

He once told me a story of a British ex-pat couple. They arrived well after he did and they all worked as teachers together. After being there for over a year, no one knew anything about this couple. They knew their names, sure, but no characteristics aside from the fact that they were hermits. On the school property where everyone lived, they had a cottage behind a hedge. As the summer months went on, the hedge grew taller and thicker. No one ever trimmed it. Apparently, they reveled in their privacy.

Murray, on the other hand, was constantly immersed in the culture. He was always learning new customs, failing at French, offering favors, and being asked for many in return. In short, he was integrated. He was generous with his time and patient with his students. He gave more than he received. Murray was the favorite, and the headmaster made him the disciplinarian as a result.

One day, several kids were serving detention. Murray tasked them with trimming hedges around the school's property. Not knowing how to properly trim hedges, they came to the British couple's hedge and murdered it. There was no hedge left. The British couple was mortified. Furiously, they found Murray and exclaimed the strange words, "Now everyone can see us!"

In a culture built upon favors and generosity, this couple didn't stand a chance.

When Murray left Cameroon, the school staff and students threw a huge party. They slaughtered a pig, they shared hilarious memories, and they celebrated. They would be losing a generous soul. But when the British couple left, there was no party. No notice. Just relief they were gone.

Generous living breeds loyalty. Generosity attracts us and transactional relationships deter us over time.

I've often failed at getting generosity "right."

For years, I believed that I ought to make generosity a strategy to live by. But more recent than I'd care to admit, I've learned that generosity isn't so much a strategy as it is a value.

If we wield generosity as a point of leverage over another person, it might get us something in return. It's only then a strategy to get what we want.

But if we lead with generosity, regardless of what we may get in return, it becomes a value.

Transactional generosity is ethical, but it's not enough to foster belonging. When someone helps us with terms attached, their help is no longer a gift.

If we create communities that can value generosity instead, it becomes infectious. The members start offering themselves more freely. Their schedules open up. Their input increases. They offer more of themselves because that's what humans do when real generosity is being experienced.

That's the principle of the proverb. Create habits where you give of yourself freely and you'll begin to reap the rewards.