Every year around Christmas, a few Dutch DJs lock themselves in a glass house and don’t eat anything for six days while broadcasting requests from the public in order to raise charity money. The yearly program, called “Serious Request,” attracts a lot of visitors and attention and raises substantial sums of money for good causes. Currently they’ve raised 3,128,049 euros (US$4,101,499) for Red Cross support of AIDS orphans all around the world.
The glass house is typically located in the middle of a square in a relatively large Dutch city and can be followed in person, or on radio, television, or the Internet 24 hours a day. Famous Dutch musicians and actors or actresses make their appearances and put personal items on auction. Typically, the Dutch government boosts the event by doubling the sum of donations on the last day.
If you always wished to play badminton with the Dutch prime minister or tap-dance your way through a large crowd on national television, and you are willing to make a hefty donation, this is your chance.
A few days ago we witnessed an adult male performing a kickoff in an important soccer match. He kicked the ball without passion to the nearest player on his side and disappeared from the pitch on the double under loud applause, leaving behind bewildered-looking soccer players. He donated 3,000 euros (US$3,900) for this feat.
It is great that people make a joint effort for a good cause. It is, was, and always will be a good thing. There may be a thousand reasonable objections and valid reservations one may have about such an event or charity in general, but if that amounts to watering down people’s will to voluntarily do good, then I do not want to be a part of that.
I remember the shock I experienced when I first came to India. I was prepared for poor beggars, but not for people with amputated limbs on pushcarts, sick people with deformed faces covered in rashes, a man with a tumor on his head the size of a handball, and fierce old ladies without teeth commanding hordes of barely dressed children to grab my hands and legs and hold on tightly until I gave some rupees.
I naturally wanted to flee from that reality but couldn’t, and somehow had to come to terms with it.
After some struggle, I resolved not to allow myself to form a fixed concept about to whom and what to give. Life is not a static thing.
The easiest way would have been to find some excuse such as, “I don’t give any money to any beggar because it only enforces begging and poverty.” In that way you can close your heart without suffering heartaches or moral conflicts.
Likewise, some people reason that aid money is a waste since the money never gets where it should and only benefits dictators or rich despots. Indeed, there are plenty of examples of how it shouldn’t be. And it shouldn’t. But if we are not even willing to consider doing good anymore, then we are truly poor.
I no longer can afford cynicism.
The glass house is typically located in the middle of a square in a relatively large Dutch city and can be followed in person, or on radio, television, or the Internet 24 hours a day. Famous Dutch musicians and actors or actresses make their appearances and put personal items on auction. Typically, the Dutch government boosts the event by doubling the sum of donations on the last day.
If you always wished to play badminton with the Dutch prime minister or tap-dance your way through a large crowd on national television, and you are willing to make a hefty donation, this is your chance.
A few days ago we witnessed an adult male performing a kickoff in an important soccer match. He kicked the ball without passion to the nearest player on his side and disappeared from the pitch on the double under loud applause, leaving behind bewildered-looking soccer players. He donated 3,000 euros (US$3,900) for this feat.
It is great that people make a joint effort for a good cause. It is, was, and always will be a good thing. There may be a thousand reasonable objections and valid reservations one may have about such an event or charity in general, but if that amounts to watering down people’s will to voluntarily do good, then I do not want to be a part of that.
I remember the shock I experienced when I first came to India. I was prepared for poor beggars, but not for people with amputated limbs on pushcarts, sick people with deformed faces covered in rashes, a man with a tumor on his head the size of a handball, and fierce old ladies without teeth commanding hordes of barely dressed children to grab my hands and legs and hold on tightly until I gave some rupees.
I naturally wanted to flee from that reality but couldn’t, and somehow had to come to terms with it.
After some struggle, I resolved not to allow myself to form a fixed concept about to whom and what to give. Life is not a static thing.
The easiest way would have been to find some excuse such as, “I don’t give any money to any beggar because it only enforces begging and poverty.” In that way you can close your heart without suffering heartaches or moral conflicts.
Likewise, some people reason that aid money is a waste since the money never gets where it should and only benefits dictators or rich despots. Indeed, there are plenty of examples of how it shouldn’t be. And it shouldn’t. But if we are not even willing to consider doing good anymore, then we are truly poor.
I no longer can afford cynicism.
