“What if the greatest gift we give this year is not something we have, but something of who we are?” — MG
As another year begins to draw to a close, our inboxes fill with invitations to give. Charitable organizations remind us of their important work, worthy causes compete for our attention, and we are encouraged to make one final contribution before the calendar turns. This annual ritual of generosity is a beautiful thing. And yet, I wonder if our modern understanding of philanthropy has become a bit too small.
The word philanthropy comes from the ancient Greek philanthrōpía, meaning “love of humanity.” Not love of fundraising. Not love of tax deductions. Not even love of charitable giving. Originally, philanthropy was less about what we gave and more about how we regarded one another. It described a way of being in relationship with our fellow human beings; a disposition of kindness, goodwill, and genuine concern for others. Somewhere along the way, we've come to associate philanthropy primarily with financial generosity, often reserving the label philanthropist for those with the means to make substantial donations.
But what if we reclaimed its original meaning? What if philanthropy was something we could practice every day, regardless of our financial resources? A colleague who notices another struggling and takes time to listen. A friend who reaches out without needing a reason. Someone who sees beyond our professional role to recognize the human being beneath it. These, too, are acts of philanthropy. They may never appear on an annual giving statement, but their impact can be immeasurable.
There is another dimension worth considering. Financial philanthropy often allows us to give from a distance, supporting people and causes we may never personally encounter. Relational philanthropy invites us to come closer. It asks us not simply to care about humanity, but to care for the human beings right in front of us. And sometimes, perhaps most importantly, to allow ourselves to receive that same care. After all, loving humanity must surely include recognizing our own humanity and our need for the caring of others.
So, as you consider your year-end giving, I hope you'll continue supporting the causes and organizations that matter to you. But perhaps you'll also consider a different kind of giving statement. Who received the gift of your presence this year? Who helped you feel more human? And who might benefit from a little more of your love of humanity in the year ahead? When you connect with your PeerRx partner this week, consider sharing your answers. Perhaps the most meaningful philanthropy isn't measured simply by how much we give away, but also by how much of ourselves we are willing to share. Thank you for the contributions you have made of yourself this year to help ensure that no one cares alone.