I blessedly continue to see things differently. Maybe that’s why I find myself with little to say about so much these days. Sunday night I watched “Secret Millionaire.” We had begun the evening taking a look at the “Next Great Restaurant”. Wait a minute. They’re both reality shows, along with “Extreme Makeover,” (which I’ve never developed a taste or habit for), a good bite of what I watch these days. I’ve dabbled with “Project Runway,” some of the hell’s kitchen offering on cooking in hellish circumstances, “America’s Got Talent,” “Dancing with the Stars,” and of course, absolutely, “American Idol”. Now on the surface of this, my instinct is to question my own choices in how I spend my evening leisure. If I didn’t know already that my days tend to feel fairly complete with reading, a healthy dose of daily outdoor exercise (for a few years now in the dry air, under the blue skies of New Mexico) my digital camera routinely handy, a little volunteering, my passion for treasure hunting, spending quality time with other residents of the planet—well, if I didn’t know this, I would be a lot more scared by this newish habit of reality TV. Give me a break!
Monday morning, after the launching episode of “Secret Millionaire,” I found myself browsing the Internet for what the critics—guess that could be any of us since the Internet is rife with people’s opinions—had to say about this newest offering on doing good for the least of us. How predictable I am, I realized, when I read a review from the Washington Post that described what the author thought the typical viewer was doing while watching the program unfold. Who is this secret millionaire, we allegedly asked ourselves, and our instinct was to go to our computers and search for her name, her story, her credibility. And so I had. And my instincts to question the merits of this show—this show that I had chosen to watch and was watching—were nurtured. Aha, she’s a pyramid promoter—or according to current terminology, a multi-level marketer. I’ve known some of those, I reflect, as if all of these marketers can be thrown categorically into a basket. I’ve even bought into the products some of these folks market, until I decided that the products weren’t, well at the time they weren’t worth my hard-earned money. And of course, I questioned whether the promised benefits were even noticeable to me. I’ve been offered health potions, the best deals on better utility rates, and avenues to more wealth. Right, I’m skeptical.
So I sat watching the secret millionaire of the evening move from situation to situation. I watched the people delight in her interest, shedding what were no doubt genuine tears over this interest (and later her generosity)—and I was puzzled by what the recipients of all this interest must have thought about the cameras that had to be present recording the exchange taking place—all the way to the denouement of the episode, when the checks were distributed, and everyone cried some more. I guess some things are better left unexplained. Although I had no right to expectation, I expected the checks to be larger. I wondered about the quantifiable exposure the millionaire must be getting. I assured myself that surely the recipients would reap further benefits from their own exposure. I wondered, and I concluded that I didn’t need to spend any more of my time on future episodes of this show. And somehow I couldn’t help but put a critical eye to all that shows like this represent to the viewer—including me, absolutely including me.
Well, for now, considering that I am changing all the time, I’ve spent too much time thinking about this. I can’t help but reflect on what the religious teachings of my past have told me. It is in giving that we receive (attributed to St. Francis). I know this to be true. “…so that your giving may be done in secret. And your Father who sees in secret will reward you." (Matthew 6:4) I understand the principle behind not making a show of your generosity. But I of course must ask, does it matter? And thankfully, I am reminded of this by a fellow sojourner. Think about all of the people of means whose generosity somehow comes to our attention, thanks to first-hand experience or public scrutiny and reporting. The size of the gift doesn’t matter, I know. Whether we should give is not even a question to be asked. Our gifts are not to be judged—by anyone. They are what they are. What counts is that we see the need, and then we are moved to share our abundance, regardless of how modest by comparison. And I am told these days not to spend too much precious time on comparison. Simply, we are honored to have the privilege of sharing.
In a column in the current issue of “Science of Mind” magazine—which this month focuses on the power of prayer—the writer concludes her comments with this: “We are the gift God has given to reveal Itself more fully. A Sufi story tells of a man who was overcome with sorrow about the condition of the world. He was so distraught that he sat on the earth and pounded it. ‘God, why haven’t you done something?’ he cried out. After a moment of Silence, God spoke: ‘I did do something. I sent you.’” (“The Prayer that God is Praying,” Rev. Dr. Kathy Hearn)
And so it is.
Continuing to See Things Differently—Albuquerque, New Mexico (March 9, 2011)
R. Harold Hollis
