The joy of secret altruism

All of us have experienced, some times, the warm glow that comes from performing a good deed and getting credit for it. But there is a special kind of satisfaction that comes from doing good and keeping it secret. Those who practice this higher altruism are connoisseurs of inner joy at its loftiest refinement.
Some years ago I read of a man in Boston who went to an understaffed orphanage every Wednesday afternoon to spend an hour or two, entertaining the youngsters - doing card tricks, telling stories, giving the harassed matron and her staff a period of rest and freedom. When some curious people tried to discover his identity, the stranger would only say, “That’s not important.” Cut from the same cloth was an elderly stranger who appeared one day at a hospital in Peterborough, New Hampshire, saying, “I know you must have many odd jobs that need doing. Let me help.” For four months he performed countless menial tasks: sweeping the parking lot, building ramps, removing lint from the laundry. Once asked his name, he smiled and shook his head. “If you knew who I am,” he said, “you’d feel obliged to feel obligated. That would spoil it.” Only after he had moved away did the hospital learn that he was a former vice-president of the Pennyslvania Railroad. Retired and widowed, he had filled months of forced inactivity and grief with cheerful service, rehabilitating his own spirit as well as spreading cheer all around him.
The art of secret altruism does not come naturally. It must be cultivated, for it goes against the natural grain of our ego. We want others to recognise our noble or unselfish gestures. When they do not recognise, we’re tempted subtly to call their attention to it. In doing so, we often discover that the deed has been devalued by suspicion that its performance was prompted, at least partly, by some credit we crave. Also, in our eagerness to help, we sometimes fail to realise how embarrassing our gift may be to the sensitive, or how heavy upon the recipient may seem the obligation of gratitude.
Doing good anonymously avoids these pitfalls. Indian Philosophy speaks of Nishkamakarma. Doing good without expecting anything in return. We do good because it has to be done. We don’t do that good because we will get some benefits like money or any other kind; not even name and fame. We just do what we think is the just thing to do. When we do altruistic acts secretly our inner senses are elated.
Jesus was the supreme preacher and practitioner of doing good secretly. He decried ostentatious charity, warned His followers to “Take heed that you do not give your alms before men, to be seen by them.” After healing the leper, He sternly told him, “See that you tell no man,” and left the scene immediately.
It is often within our own circle that we find our finest opportunities for hidden helpfulness. Years ago the sculptor Sir Hubert von Herkomer found a delightful solution to a distressing family problem. His father, who lived with him, had in his own day won fame for his wood carving. And though the old man still worked at it, he repeatedly went to bed heartbroken because age had dulled his skill. Worried over his father’s unhappiness, Sir Hubert hit upon the idea of stealing downstairs at night to touch up his father’s work. A few deft strokes made all the difference. The old man would come down in the morning, look at the work and exclaim, “It’s not bad, not bad at all. I’ll make something of this yet!”
Secret giving need not be costly in either time or money. It calls only for a keen eye and an understanding heart. I can think of a friend who makes a hobby of writing unsigned but encouraging letters to men in public life who, in his estimate, are performing with integrity despite stinging criticism. His theory: For the most part, politicians get letters of appreciation only from people who want something in return. They get anonymous letters only from cranks who want to blow off stem when angry. “Why not,” he asks, “blow off a little appreciation as well – and with no strings attached?”
Those who do good quietly and without the least expectation of any reward are the ones who understand what Wordsworth meant when he wrote of “that best portion of a good man’s life: his little, nameless, unremembered acts of kindness and of love.” It’s amasing how much good can be done in this world if one does not care who gets the credit – and how it can set one’s life a glow!