When I first read “What Makes Charity Work” way back in 2002 I was in Brazil, halfway through my first, short-lived attempt at long-term mission work. Though I loved Brazil, or perhaps because of that love, I was deeply frustrated by the social inequalities and deep corruption in that nation, much of which I attributed to excessive governance (that’s still more-or-less my view, though tempered and mellowed now). Within that context this book made perfect, undeniable sense. Lately, however, I gave it a re-read. It’s lost something of its shine in my eyes over the past few years.
There is a lot of good in this book, a compilation of essays by different writers, edited and introduced by Myron Magnet. I find the story of “Dagger” John Hughes, the first archbishop of New York, particularly inspiring. This was the first essay in the book and, in my opinion, the strongest. Dagger John was presented as a no-nonsense, hard-as-nails and tirelessly committed worker for the good of the poor in New York City, particularly the Irish. The accomplishment of essentially “civilizing” the Irish immigrant population in roughly a generation is nothing to mock or ignore.
Still, in this and at least one other essay, I found the pro-Catholic tone a little distracting. In one of the essays a conversion to Catholicism was treated as the reasonable result of a search for the truth, acting upon available data. Please.
The pro-Catholic tone of the essays naively ignores a glaring and sad reality facing the Roman Catholic Church in our times: child abuse. I can’t help but wonder how many children in those Catholic orphanages and schools were subjected to abuse at the hands of those who were supposed to be helping them. Then again, as in any human-made system, evil is bound to be present somewhere. As I mentioned above, the net result of the efforts of Dagger John and Catholics in 1800s New York was little short of miraculous.
“What Makes Charity Work” is a very political and ideological book, veering heavily into minarchist libertarianism at nearly every possible turn. With essays from different writers the result is sometimes less than harmonious, with some essays complaining about the evils of any public system, and others calling either for their reform or even (in one case) celebrating the creation of laws to defend the poor.
One of my main objections to the overall tone and direction of this book is that faith cannot be restricted merely to the private sphere. The call to repentance, whether from the Hebrew prophets or Jesus of Nazareth, has always demanded more than a change in personal religious beliefs. It is a summons to genuine, wholehearted obedience to the God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob. Christian faith in particular does not have the luxury of being either public or private. It must embrace both spheres of life.
What I liked most about this book was the emphasis on the great good “regular” people can do, as well as the connection between morality and poverty. Though many times poverty is the result of outside oppression, sometimes the oppression comes from within through addictions and other vices.
If you choose to read this book, I suggest you also read Walter Wink’s excellent “The Powers That Be.” This latter title will provide much-needed balance and theological insight.
