But the Greatest of These is Charity

In our modern world, a subtle yet insidious transformation has overtaken the very essence of human connection. What was once the deep and selfless attitude of charity, born from the wellspring of a loving and sacrificial heart, has been replaced by a weaker, more superficial manifestation: friendliness. This is no mere shift in semantics, but a profound change in the spirit of human relationships. Friendliness, though not without its merits, is a poor substitute for the rich and unyielding charity that Christ, in His infinite mercy, has commanded of us. The latter is a lofty virtue, demanding, all-encompassing, and untiring, while the former is a more genial, convenient form of interaction, rooted more in societal expectation than in the true service of others.

Charity, in its truest form, is a willing of the good of another, even when it requires the sacrifice of one’s own comfort, time, or means. It is born of a heart that sees not just the surface of another’s being, but perceives the inner desolation of the soul, and reaches out, regardless of personal cost, to fill that need. It evaluates true need and gives wisely. Charity does not merely give what is easy to part with, it gives what is costly, and does so with a cheerfulness that knows no true recompense. It is an act of profound humility, as it does not seek to be seen or praised but gives in obedience to a higher calling, emulating the divine love that Christ so freely bestowed upon a world unworthy of such grace.

In contrast, friendliness is a virtue of far more modest aspiration. It is the smile exchanged between strangers, the polite inquiries about health, the pleasant conversation that avoids the uncomfortable and the inconvenient. Friendliness requires little of us; it is the offering of kindness without the sacrifice of self. It is an agreeable surface, a mask worn to avoid the unpleasantness of conflict or discomfort, often motivated by a desire for social harmony rather than a deep concern for the well-being of others. Friendliness is often as fleeting as the smile it bears, and while it may serve to ease social intercourse, it lacks the substance and transformative power of charity. Friendliness, as I see it,  often develops into what many contemporaries have labeled as virtue-signaling.

This decline from charity to mere friendliness is far from a trivial matter. It is, in fact, a profound alteration in the way we are called to love one another. In our time of rapid exchange and superficial interaction, we have become masters of convenience, desiring relationships that are easily maintained and require little true investment from us in return. We are content to be friendly, for friendliness costs us little. We may greet our neighbor with a warm smile, we may write a bank note with many zeroes, we may shout from the rooftops of another's need, but how often do we extend ourselves beyond the social niceties to offer genuine help in times of need? How often do we give from our poverty, from our very hearts, to lift another from despair? The answer, sadly, is often not at all.

Charity, however, demands something far more arduous. It is not content with the mere surface interaction, but plunges deep into the wellspring of human need and emerges with a love that bears the weight of sacrifice. It compels us to reach out to the widow and the orphan, to the stranger who has no claim on our time or affections, and to love them not with the detached politeness of friendliness, or with an agenda, but with the burning fire of a heart that yearns to alleviate their suffering. Charity is not governed by convenience, nor is it bound by the restraints of personal comfort. It flows from the soul, untouched by the temporary satisfactions that come with friendly pleasantries.

The great tragedy of this replacement of charity with friendliness lies in the hollow nature of the relationships that are thus formed. While friendliness may offer a superficial balm to the frayed edges of human connection, it fails to heal the deeper wounds of the heart. The soul, starved of true compassion, cannot be nourished by the mere pleasantries of polite exchange or by seemingly compassionate declarations of need. Friendliness, though pleasant, lacks the power to transform; it is like a flower that blooms only for a moment that lacks the roots and sustenance to endure the rigors of life, and therefore dies before it can bear fruit. In contrast, charity is the deep-rooted tree whose branches stretch out to provide shelter, whose roots draw from the well of divine love, and whose fruits nourish for years to come.

This shift from charity to friendliness is a symptom of a broader societal malaise, a world that seeks to minimize discomfort, to skirt around the challenges that genuine love entails. It is a world that has lost sight of the radical nature of Christ’s love. Friendliness, though it may facilitate this social commingling, will never take us to the heights of self-sacrifice that charity demands. It will never challenge us to reach beyond ourselves and intimately serve those who have no power to repay us, those whose needs are not so easily seen or recognized by the superficial eye.

What, then, is to be done? The answer lies not in abandoning the kindly gestures of friendliness, but in recognizing the distinction between the two. We must return to a love that is not content to remain on the surface but seeks to enter the very depths of the human heart. We must recall the nobility of charity, a love that asks for no reward, that seeks no praise, that gives from the depth of the soul. In a world that has become increasingly adept at offering friendliness, we must rediscover the radical call to charity, which knows no measure but the example of Christ Himself.

For, in the end, it is charity alone that has the power to heal, to transform, and to bring souls closer to the heart of God. Friendliness may smooth over the rough edges of daily life, but it is charity that binds us together in the eternal bond of love, the love that, as we know from Christ’s own sacrifice, goes beyond the comfortable and the familiar, into the very depths of human need and suffering. In this, charity mirrors the divine love that seeks not to be comfortable, but to redeem.

Friendliness took the place of charity, contentment the place of hope, and knowledge the place of faith. (Benson, Lord of the World)