LITMIR.BIZ

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Saarinen explains this with reference to the classical concept of the imitation of Christ. There is a certain educational value of having received a gift. It disposes and prepares the individual for conduct that is right in God’s eyes (128).

      We will return to Saarinen’s interpretation of justification as receiving a gift in greater detail in Chapter 4. The present task is to outline how and why the ecumenical endeavours just stated could be understood as a mutual exchange of gifts. Saarinen’s proposal merits close reflection. In analysing the difference between receiver-oriented and giver-oriented perspectives, he argues that the former case is as follows: the receiver gets something from the very tradition of the giver. This adds something new to what he already possesses. The gift is “a souvenir reminding us of the otherness of the giver” (136). This is an important stance, but it is one-sided because it imposes something alien on the person who receives the gift. If we shift to a giver-orientated perspective, by contrast, Saarinen says that the situation is quite different. In this case, a thoughtful giver considers whether her gift imposes an embarrassing obligation on the recipient and chooses something the recipient is really eager to have. In Saarinen’s words, “In giving gifts, the givers should not propagate their peculiarities, but the very idea of the gift presupposes freedom and considerate behaviour. If I have papacy and you don’t, it does not mean that my best gift to you is papacy. Perhaps you lack something else and would really need it. You may even think that as a considerate giver I would possess so much empathy or skill in applying the golden rule of reciprocity that I can give you what you really need. In aid programs, for instance, such considerations play a major role. In ecumenical exchange, however, they are not given much attention” (ibid.).

      Saarinen may be right in claiming that. Concerning theology in general, however, things are different. There is a long and fairly complex tradition of understanding God’s grace as gift transferred form Him to man. For instance, grace as gift (donum) is a major topic in both Augustine’s and Thomas Aquinas’ works. Later on a number of high rank Reformation theologians disputed whether God’s grace may or may not be understood as gift literally transferred to the faithful—those opposed to the idea suspected semi-pelagianism to come along with this position. According to a widespread opinion—at least in German speaking theology—, the stand of the Reformation did not understand grace as a gift but as God’s realm of power where the unjust is justified and at the same time remains entirely sinful. However, this is under debate: A thoroughgoing rediscovery and re-appraisal of the theology of gift of the reformers takes place, mainly of Martin Luther’s contribution to the field: Against a widely held prejudice the concept of gift is a core concept in Luther’s theology.¹⁶ In addition to these findings there is a vivid discussion about the concept of gift in various fields of systematic theology. Veronika Hoffmann of Siegen University identifies four main fields that should—and can—be interpreted by means of the metaphor of giving and gift: (1) The doctrine of justification; (2) Christ’s death as sacrifice and the biblical notion of sacrifice as such; (3) the Eucharist; (4) love of God and one’s neighbour.¹⁷ After discussing a large number of aspects in these fields Hoffmann concludes that a theology of the gift is a pneumatological enterprise, for giving in a strictly theological sense means to give something one does not possess.¹⁸ That also holds true for an adaption of the thought in terms of ecumenism: to hand something over to the ecumenical partner is associated with the conception that the giver also does not possess what he gives. On the contrary he gives something bestowed upon him as well and thus becomes aware of the fact that the ecumenical dialogue is not about unalienable possessing but about the awareness of being the beneficiary oneself.

      One more aspect from a general, i.e. non-theological, theory of gift is of importance here. I have stated that there are “no free gifts” and thus made the claim that gifts intrinsically call for an answer. Precisely this, however, is under debate. If gifts are not unconditional, so the argument implies, they are no gifts at all. A gift waiting for an answer is a hidden kind of payment and thus counterplays the idea of a gift. Consequently, in order to be able to call it a gift, none of the participants—giver as well as recipient—must know that a transfer of gifts takes place: Should the giver know what he is doing, he would inevitably await an answer, inarticulate as it may be. The same applies to the recipient: If he knew that he was given anything, he would as well make up his mind on how to respond to the gift. The outcome inevitably is paradoxical: Neither giver nor the recipient are supposed to know what happens between the both of them.—This, at least, is how Jacques Derrida puts it.¹⁹ I hold this position to be unsatisfying although it points out a crucial moment. A gift that must not be detected as a gift by definition is a paradox. This alone need not be wrong, for it may perfectly well be that events of the highest importance happen beyond man’s understanding. The tradition of thought Derrida stands for actually brings about an appealing claim for the rediscovery of the unnamable and for rethinking concepts of mystery and—put in theological terms—negative theology. However, the unsatisfying momentum is this: Derrida’s position completely excludes the notion of reciprocity and mutuality. According to him, a gift has a certain mysterious value in itself, as long as it remains undetected. But by definition it must not be seen as a token of solidarity, friendship, or love. A theory of gift should take mutuality into consideration.²⁰ But there is a caveat from Derrida’s somewhat inconvenient position, that calls for close inspection: A gift must be distinguished from payment. A gift does not establish a form of mutuality that works in terms of change, trade, or barter. Derrida claims precisely this to be the crucial point. So, if on the one hand, it is correct to implement a momentum of reciprocity into the concept of gift, and, on the other hand, a gift differs from payment and exchange, how should that intricacy be dealt with? I suggest to do so by means of a Kantian distinction: It is a well-known fact that Kant differentiated between means and end. Additionally, he said that humans must not be used entirely as means for a different person’s end but intrinsically are ends in themselves. This applies to the distinction between trade/ change and gift: Within certain limits, someone selling things to others treats them as pure means, because he wants to benefit from the trade. Even if he treats his trade partner in a corteous way or hands over an advertising gift, this will not alter the purpose of his action: Manners of behaviour like these follow a clear imperative: “sell and increase your (financial) benefit”—even so, when the trade follows all rules of fair and respectful trade. By contrast, a gift focuses on the other person as an end in itself: A gift implies a thoroughgoing wish that the beneficiary herself/ himself benefits from the gift and from the relationship established hereby. That may include a momentum of reciprocity but is to be discerned from the de-personalised view of the other a trade or change implies.

      In reaction to Derrida’s position Marcel Hénaff, University of California, proposes to distinguish between three types of gift, (1) ceremonial gift, (2) benevolent gift, and (3) solidary gift.²¹ To begin with (3), a solidary gift is given among friends, siblings, or family members. This normally asks for a gift in exchange, but the return gift is not a necessary element of its ratio. Rather, solidary gifts take place within an established network of reciprocity, in order to depict and to intensify it. Type (2), the benevolent gift, is given spontaneously, gladly, and without any expectation for a gift in return. A giver of such a gift acts in a self-forgetful way and is completely attracted by the apparent need of the recipient. This type comes close to what Derrida is willing to label a gift alone. By contrast, Hénaff states that type (1) is of an utmost importance: A ceremonial gift is presented in order to establish a network of reciprocity. Givers know that they need to establish a social network beyond trade and change. And this is why they do not want to enter a mere circle of exchanged goods and money but want to to establish relationships between human beings. In order to do so, the gift stands for the very self of the giver: “to give something from oneself to the other person as pledge and substitute of one’s own self”. (65) Exchange of gifts in this manner, Hénaff states, does not follow rules or even laws. Rather it is a delicate procedure entirely based on the benevolence of the participants. Reciprocity is a game of balance, although it may eventually lead to states of two-sided or even multipolar reciprocity. The ceremonial gift “hints to a form of confidence that yearns for full confidence and is on its way to constitute itself.” (127)

      I propose to regard this to be a helpful typology.²²

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