MY DEAR DEPARTED grandfather, on my mother’s side, was a university professor for many years, and his subject was economics. He was much loved by others, respected as a teacher, and the only one of my four grandparents with whom I felt I had a real relationship. He was the inspiration for my becoming a professor myself.

I still remember the moment I had that epiphany, sitting in the back of a seminary classroom. Though I had come to seminary to train as a therapist, I had the clear and sudden sense that my calling was to be a professor instead. It felt like closing an intergenerational loop: not only would I be a professor, but a professor like my grandfather before me.

Just not in economics. I know nothing about economics.

My grandmother had her own economic expertise. She could be extremely frugal, sometimes in ways that I found embarrassing. When we went to an all-you-can-eat restaurant, for example, this tiny woman would pile her plate high with more fried chicken than anyone could eat. She would eat one piece, then hide the rest in her purse (and yes, she brought a plastic bag with her for just that purpose). Then she would take her stash home and freeze it. She could eat for a week off that one questionable haul.

She also liked to use money to make money, investing Grandpa’s salary in a variety of funds. She was savvy and did well overall. And when Grandpa died, she gave money to the university where he taught — on the condition that a wing or room somewhere on campus be named after him and dedicated to his memory. She was, in a sense, buying a bit of immortality for him, and by proxy, for herself.

I’m not criticizing her for that (though I did challenge her on the fried chicken thing). I’m grateful, for example, for the scholarship funds that are available to my students through the generosity of those who give money in honor of someone else. But again, the point is that we often have mixed motivations for giving money in the first place; we want to help, but we want something personal out of the deal too. Imagine making a significant contribution to the church building fund; do you want your generosity to be known? By whom? And why?

IN MATTHEW 6, Jesus warns that true righteousness is not to be confused with conspicuous acts of piety, especially when the motivation is to be admired by others. His first example of this is almsgiving, that is, giving money to the poor. In the Old Testament, God’s people were commanded to be generous to the poor and needy. Consider, for example, Deuteronomy 15:11, as translated in the Common English Bible:

Poor persons will never disappear from the earth. That’s why I’m giving you this command: you must open your hand generously to your fellow Israelites, to the needy among you, and to the poor who live with you in your land.

That might remind you of something Jesus said earlier in the Sermon on the Mount:

Give to those who ask, and don’t refuse those who wish to borrow from you. (Matt 5:42)

God’s people were expected to give where there was a need, and to give with generous hearts. But once again, it’s possible to distort the command in self-serving ways. We think ourselves righteous — or want others to think we’re righteous! — because we’ve engaged in the behavior of giving, with no consideration to the motivation for the gift. Thus, Jesus teaches, presumably in response to the behavior of some Pharisees:

Whenever you give to the poor, don’t blow your trumpet as the hypocrites do in the synagogues and in the streets so that they may get praise from people. I assure you, that’s the only reward they’ll get. But when you give to the poor, don’t let your left hand know what your right hand is doing so that you may give to the poor in secret. Your Father who sees what you do in secret will reward you. (Matt 6:2-4)

“Hypocrite.” That’s the first use of the word in the New Testament. Originally, it referred to a stage actor who wore a mask to pretend to be someone else. In Matthew 22 and 23, Jesus repeatedly uses the term to refer to the scribes and Pharisees; they may wear the mask of righteousness, but from God’s perspective, they’re not truly righteous of heart.

Scholars disagree as to whether a trumpet was actually blown when alms were given to the poor. Surely, no fanfare was necessary when someone handed over their pocket change, but some recognition may have been desired for sizable gifts, just as it is today. Jesus’ admonition can be translated as “Don’t sound a trumpet before you” — which suggests that it’s the givers who are calling attention to themselves.

To me, were it not for the fact that there was someone in need, the idea that a person would literally toot their own horn in this way seems almost comically arrogant. Bum-ba-ba-bah! Hey, everyone, look at me! Look at how generous I am! Such self-promoting behavior would surely be humiliating to the one receiving the gift. And it would be deeply offensive to a God who, according to Jesus, blesses the poor and meek. Thus, whether Jesus’ reference to trumpets is to be taken literally or as something closer to a joke, the point remains: other people might admire you for conspicuous acts of generosity, but you won’t get far with the Father that way. That’s not how righteousness works in the kingdom of heaven.

AGAIN, JESUS REFERS to the hypocrisy of the Pharisees, who make a show of giving, but give for the wrong reasons. To Jesus they are, in essence, playacting: I’m not really a righteous person, I just play one on television. But were they doing this intentionally? Did they know they were being hypocritical?

In general, I don’t think so. I don’t see them as intentionally deceiving people and then being angry at Jesus for revealing their dirty little secret in public. Rather, I suspect they truly believed themselves to be righteous, truly believed they were doing what the Law of Moses required. Like the rest of us, they wanted to see themselves in the best possible light, and thus were blind to their own blindness. And they fully expected to be rewarded for what they thought was their disciplined and sacrificial faithfulness to God.

But their gifts were calculated. That seems to be what Jesus means by not letting our left hand know what the right hand is doing. I think here of the story of Ananias and Sapphira in Acts 5. Barnabas had sold a piece of property and given all the proceeds to the apostles. One assumes he was praised for his generosity. Ananias and Sapphira, apparently, also wanted that kind of applause. They imitated Barnabas’ behavior by selling property and bringing the money to the apostles. But their motivation was to get glory for themselves. They figured how much they needed to give to get the praise, held back the rest, and lied about it. And for that indiscretion, they paid with their lives.

If we think about it, we can probably recognize the many ways in which we’re tempted to toot our own horns, to seek the admiration of others for doing good things. I’m not saying that we’ll all suffer the same fate as Ananias and Sapphira for doing so. But Jesus teaches that this isn’t the righteousness that God wants or rewards. And as we’ll see, something similar can be said about the way we pray.