The Tradition of Giving

It is Eid-ul-Adha today, and it seems appropriate to make today’s posting The Tradition of Giving. The postings on the Traditions of Work and Faith mentioned a number of my father’s charitable acts. After all, giving to those less fortunate than himself was the most important part of his life’s work and it was rooted in his abiding faith. It was his way of putting his faith into action, as my father was all about actualizations rather than mere theorizing.

When I think of his charity, what immediately comes to mind are the countless fundraising dinners for mosques, Islamic schools, and various organizations like CAIR. My father gave at all of these events and some of that giving was publicly announced. For some reason, what sticks out from all of these memories is not just the complete ease with which my father parted with large sums of his money, but also my perceived awkwardness at the public nature of it all. At the time, it seemed strange that my father should choose to do it this way, though in retrospect I realize that it was a product of deep passion for the charitable project at hand. He wanted to reflect that passion in a way that fired up others too.

That the public, or publicized, giving was an anomaly has come into greater focus after his passing, when I uncovered a number of charitable causes he contributed to but which he never disclosed. Orphans in Africa, single moms, struggling fathers, disaster victims across the globe, and Islamic projects in locales unknown to me – all were beneficiaries of his hidden, humble generosity.

The variability reveals the essence of my father’s charity. For him, “giving” included charity and sacrifice in all of their possible forms, from the simple to the extraordinary. When my father gave, he gave at all levels. He gave both publicly and privately, trying to both encourage others to be similarly generous while also – to use a common Islamic metaphor -- trying to hide from his right hand what his left hand gave. And giving in the form of things, whether money or what money can buy, was never enough. He gave of his time, effort, intelligence, and with particularly trying matters, of his patience and mental energy, too.

In many ways, then, this Tradition reflects the message of the entire Traditions series. These postings are not merely about remembering a good man; nor are they purporting to tell a story about something that was, that possibly can be, but for the average man is not likely to be. These are real life examples about real life achievements; about the doings of an ordinary man who was made great by his deeds.

The crux of that message is that the traditions my father embodied were not relegated to certain spheres and not others. In my own quest for success, I’ve at times become fixated on becoming an over-achiever. My fixation has at times made me forget that true goodness is rooted in the essence of the doer rather than in the magnificence of the end product. To make an impact and serve my ultimate purpose, I don’t have to single-handedly build an entire mosque or discover a cure or invent some life-altering technology. In following my father’s example, I don’t even have to do as much as he did.

The aim instead is to return to my core, and like my father, be a good person rather than merely perform the role of one. It is part and parcel of the Peanut Gallery's quest to extract the real from the fake and to uncover performance that masquerades as something of greater authenticity.