“But when you give alms, do not let your left hand know what your right hand is doing, so that your alms may be done in secret; and your Father who sees in secret will reward you.”
— Matthew 6:3–4
In the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus speaks about something that is as relevant today as it was two thousand years ago: the temptation to turn goodness into a performance.
Jesus tells His followers, “Beware of practicing your piety before others in order to be seen by them” (Matthew 6:1). He specifically speaks about giving to those in need, warning His listeners not to “sound a trumpet” when they give so that others will praise them. Instead, He tells us not to let our left hand know what our right hand is doing. Our generosity should come from a desire to help, not from a desire to be admired.
The same principle appears immediately afterward when Jesus talks about prayer. He warns against praying publicly simply so that others will notice how devout we are. Instead, He tells us to go into a private room, close the door, and pray to God in secret (Matthew 6:5–6). Later, He says much the same thing about fasting. In each case, the problem is not the act itself. The problem is making our faith into a performance.
I have been thinking about these verses in light of the life of Dolly Parton.
Dolly supported an extraordinary number of charitable causes throughout her life. Some were very public. Through her Imagination Library, millions of books have been given to children. She contributed to medical research, helped communities devastated by disaster, supported education, and used her fame to draw attention to people who needed help.
Yet there were also acts of generosity that received little attention, and there may well have been others that we will never know about. That seems appropriate. When Dolly did speak publicly about a cause, the purpose was often not simply to announce what she had done. She used the attention already focused on her to turn people’s eyes toward something that mattered. She encouraged others to care, to give, and to help.
There is an important difference between drawing attention to ourselves because we give and drawing attention to a need so that others will give.
Jesus makes that distinction clearer when we consider another passage from the Sermon on the Mount. In Matthew 5:16, He says, “Let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father in heaven.”
Few people had a light that shone brighter than Dolly Parton’s. Her talent made that light visible to the world, but her compassion showed us what she chose to do with it. She could use the attention that came with being Dolly Parton to make herself seem more important, or she could turn that attention toward someone who needed it. Again and again, she chose the latter. Her light did not become dimmer when she used it to illuminate the needs of others. It became brighter.
At first, Matthew 5:16 might seem to contradict Jesus’ warning just a few verses later about doing good deeds where others can see them. But the difference is found in who receives the glory.
Matthew 5 tells us to live in such a way that our goodness points beyond ourselves. Matthew 6 warns us against doing good so that people will praise us. One says, “Look at the good that can be done.” The other says, “Look at how good I am.”
That is a distinction worth remembering.
Jesus returns to the importance of caring for others in Matthew 25:31–46. In the parable of the sheep and the goats, He describes people who fed the hungry, gave drink to the thirsty, welcomed the stranger, clothed those who needed clothing, cared for the sick, and visited those in prison. What is striking is that the righteous do not even seem to realize the significance of what they have done. They ask Jesus when they ever did these things for Him.
His answer is one of the most powerful teachings in the Gospel: “Just as you did it to one of the least of these… you did it to me” (Matthew 25:40).
They did not help because they expected recognition. They helped because someone was hungry. Someone was thirsty. Someone needed clothing. Someone was sick, lonely, imprisoned, or a stranger in need of welcome. They saw someone who needed help, and they helped.
That is what Christian charity should look like.
Most of us will never have Dolly Parton’s wealth or enormous public platform, but all of us have something we can give. It may be money. It may be our time. It may be a meal, a ride, a listening ear, an encouraging word, or simply noticing someone whom everyone else seems to overlook.
And sometimes no one else needs to know.
There is something beautiful about doing something kind that can never be repaid and may never even be acknowledged. There is no applause, no recognition, and no opportunity to tell everyone what a wonderful person we are. There is simply someone who needed help and someone who chose to help them.
God sees those moments.
And when circumstances give us an opportunity to speak publicly about something we have done, perhaps the question we should ask ourselves is not simply, Should I tell people? Instead, we might ask, Why am I telling them?
Am I pointing toward myself, or am I pointing toward the need?
Am I hoping people will admire my generosity, or am I hoping my example might inspire someone else to be generous?
Jesus never tells us to stop doing good because someone might see us. He tells us to examine why we are doing it in the first place.
And doing good does not always require money, a grand gesture, or even much of our time. Sometimes the smallest kindness can matter more than we realize. A genuine smile offered to someone who seems to be having a difficult day may be exactly the encouragement that person needs. A kind word, holding a door, asking someone how they are and actually listening to the answer—these things cost us nothing, yet we may never know how much they mean to the person who receives them. We do not have to change the whole world. Sometimes we are simply called to make one person’s world a little brighter.
Our generosity does not need a trumpet.
Sometimes the quietest acts of kindness speak the loudest—especially to the One who sees what is done in secret.
