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What does God need?

 What Does God Need?

For the past week, the news has been filled with reports of thefts in temples. Every time I hear one more story about money being stolen from a donation box, I find myself thinking about the same question.

What exactly does God need from us?

Recently, I found myself in a discussion on this subject. I casually suggested that perhaps temples could encourage digital donations. Not because faith needs to become modern, but because it might reduce the possibility of theft and ensure that contributions reach their intended purpose.

The response came quickly.

“Not everyone will be satisfied with a digital transaction.”

And perhaps that is true.

For many people, placing a note or a coin in a donation box is an emotional act. It is tangible. They feel they are personally offering something at the feet of the deity. Faith is often guided by the heart more than by logic.

Yet the thought has stayed with me.

Does God really need money?

Whenever I stand before a deity, I do not feel that I am standing before someone who is waiting for my financial contribution. I feel I am standing before something much greater, something that asks for humility, gratitude, honesty, and surrender.

If someone wishes to donate money, there are so many meaningful ways to do so. One could contribute directly towards the construction or maintenance of the temple. One could support the salaries of the priests and staff who dedicate their lives to serving there. One could donate towards community meals, much like the langars and bhandaras that feed thousands of people every day. One could contribute to educational, medical, or charitable work carried out by religious institutions.

When the purpose is visible, the act of giving feels connected to something real and immediate.

Perhaps that is why I find myself wondering whether money lying anonymously in a donation box is the only way to express devotion.

Could devotion not also be expressed through service?

Could it not be expressed through feeding a hungry person, helping a struggling family, supporting a child’s education, or contributing to a cause that genuinely benefits people?

Would such an offering reach God any less?

I am not questioning temples. Temples have their place and their importance. They require resources to function, to preserve traditions, and to serve the countless people who visit them. Those who wish to contribute should absolutely do so.

What I find myself questioning is our understanding of what constitutes an offering.

Sometimes I feel we have made giving easier than being good.

Dropping money into a box takes a few seconds.

Being kind takes effort.

Being honest takes courage.

Being compassionate requires us to notice another person’s pain and respond to it.

Perhaps that is why the latter is harder.

The temple thefts in the news are unfortunate, but what troubles me even more is what they reveal about us. We are often quick to display our faith, yet we sometimes overlook the values that faith is meant to nurture.

Maybe the greatest offering is not what leaves our wallet.

Maybe it is what leaves our heart.

A little ego.

A little pride.

A little selfishness.

And perhaps when we leave those behind, we finally arrive before God with something truly worth offering.


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