Around the holidays last year, I heard about a unique act of kindness that a local business was doing. They let it be known their business would be giving out one thousand dollars each to ten families in need. They knew that times were tough and just wanted to bless a few local families with this money.

Digging deeper however, there was more to the story. Turns out the families would need to come down to the office to collect the donation in person. They’d also have to agree to being filmed and photographed for company commercials. The local business, a marijuana dispensary, was “donating” the money as a part of their Happy Danksgiving Promotion, a PR initiative to show the city how they cared about giving back to the local community.

Cleverly it wasn’t really a donation, but payment for being in a commercial. It was reimbursement for people’s time, the use of their image and likeness, to advertise for the company’s generosity and goodness. To receive this gift, you’d practically have to sit on Weed Santa’s lap, look into his glazed, hungry eyes and tell him you’ve been good this year.

But who am I to judge Weed Santa, his little Pot Elves and their performative generosity? My own life is chock full of these Happy Danksgiving moments. It’s a highlight reel of my willful blindness to believe that I’m loving my neighbor with no strings attached. But look very closely and you will see one gigantic string attached to my generosity – I want to look good.

If we’re really honest with ourselves, appearing generous, kind, or heroic are the pricetag attached to much of our service and giving to others. We post about it online and let people know about our exciting new project to help others in need. I recall as a teenager going on so-called “mission trips” to low resource areas of the US and the world: painting houses in Memphis and digging latrines in Honduras. We had group t-shirts that we’d wear, with the name of our project printed out on them so everyone would know exactly what we were there to do. Afterwards we took photos and shared them around to let others know we were helping these “poor, poor, people”.

Jesus (who himself had controversial views when it came to helping others) said “…when you give to the needy, do not let your left hand know what your right hand is doing, so that your giving may be in secret.”

He seems to touch on a fundamental human truth that the best form of generosity, both for the giver and the receiver, is a hidden generosity. And likewise, performative generosity comes with a myriad of potential problems for all involved.

For example, the giver looking good as a prerequisite to an act of kindness breeds shame and resentment in the receiver. It feels manipulative and transactional. The giver no longer does things for people, but rather at people and expects a positive light to reflect back on them. People become a project – an extension of the giver and their power. And when the giver detects even the slightest lack of gratitude, they also become resentful along with the receiver. It is nearly impossible for authentic relationship to develop under these circumstances.

And on this topic Jesus goes on to say: “…when you give to the needy, do not let your left hand know what your right hand is doing, so that your giving may be in secret. Then God, who sees what is done in secret, will reward you.”

When we choose to practice hidden generosity over performative generosity it says we shall be recipients of a “secret reward”. Just what might that reward be? Another jewel in our heavenly crown? A cosmic bag of gold? Perhaps a glowing air of moral superiority that emanates from us wherever we go?

Rather than another notch in our religious belt of goodness, I’m more inclined to think our reward will be a deepened spiritual liberation. Our experience of authentic gratitude may become more immediate and felt. That gratitude bubbles up and begins to permeate everything we touch: relationships with family members, attitude towards work, conversations with friends. We become aware that “our” possessions are not our own but are also a gift of which we were once the recipients. Our mindset changes, our need for validation loosens. And from that place of joy and gratitude we are able to give away what we have with truly no strings attached. Our resources no longer create a barrier between us and our fellow humans, but are something to be shared and enjoyed.

The oneness of all humankind becomes increasingly clear and therefore it’s easier to love our neighbor with joy. While several large logs burn away, we may even sit around the campfire of humanity together and sing kumbaya: giver and receiver, Weed Santa, little Pot Elves, friends and foes to celebrate the happiest Danksgiving ever known to humankind.