Years ago, when I was in my early teens, my mother’s father, our beloved grandfather Nonno Gianni, storyteller extraordinaire, family historian, giver of “splendid” gifts (baby rabbits, lambs, chicks), died. A widower at the time, he lived with three of his daughters in the apartment in which his large family had grown. He left behind nine children, the primitive cabin in the mountains beloved by every family member, and a small savings account in joint ownership with his oldest daughter, a spinster.

I remember the savings account only because I heard my aunt talk about it, a few months after Nonno had died. Here is the story. When Nonno was getting up in years, my aunt hit upon the happy notion of opening a joint savings account with him, to avoid the long legal process that was required to “unfreeze” bank accounts after the death of their owner. No problem: neither had much money, and each trusted the other. Then, one day when my aunt was making a deposit, she discovered that the balance had decreased by a noticeable amount. Looking into the transaction, she discovered that there was no mistake; her father had withdrawn what was, for them, a large sum (probably the equivalent of a few hundred dollars). She was puzzled because 1) he had “forgotten” to tell her and 2) he had not bought anything that she could think of.

Not one to beat about the bush, when she went home she asked him about the withdrawal. Nonno replied: “Someone I know needed the money, he asked me for it, and I gave it to him.” Quite logically, aunt asked: “Who was it?” Nonno replied: “It is confidential. He would be humiliated if I told anyone of his circumstances.” Aunt insisted: “Did you ask him to sign a note?” “No,” was the answer. Aunt persisted: “But what if anything were to happen to you? How would I go about getting the money back?” And the answer she got from my wonderful Nonno was: “That’s not our problem. If he can he will repay it, if he can’t he won’t.” You guessed it, after Nonno’s death, no one came forward with the money, which probably represented almost all the savings that my Nonno had set aside in the many years he had worked. As I said before, at his death, Nonno left behind nine adult children, the primitive cabin in the Alps that was beloved by three generations of his family, and probably the equivalent of a couple of hundred dollars.

But he also left us a treasure in memories, in example and in Faith. His generosity may sound extraordinary to us, today. But in his lifetime it was fairly common.

In fact, I can tell almost the same story of my dad’s mother, Nonna Adele. She was born and raised in a small village, where her dad owned the one general store. She inherited an equal share in it with the rest of her siblings. When her brother died unexpectedly, leaving a wife and three young children, everyone renounced their portion of the inheritance in favor of the widow, so that she could support her young family. When Nonna died, some years after her husband, she left behind some hand-woven linens, four down pillows and three gold coins; her small savings account went to the Church. But she also left behind several priests, because every year of her life she paid the annual seminary tuition for one young man whose family was too poor to be able to afford it.

How could these folks, who were definitely not rich, be so generous as to give away practically all they had? Remember, in those days there was no Social Security, no National Health Care, no Food Stamps. In other words, there was no Nanny State. The answer is simple: these wonderful folks trusted in God, which translated in personal commitment and personal generosity.

Then this week I heard about World Mission Day. The speaker was saying that until recently, Ireland had the largest seminary in the world. Then came prosperity, and with it, the number of seminarians declined until now it’s about ten percent of what it was. The same happened in Poland. Of course, with prosperity also came smaller families: after all, the richer we are, the more expensive it is to have children, right?

Remember last week’s Gospel? The rich young man who could not bring himself to say “yes” to Jesus’ call, because he could not bear to be parted with all that he had? Today we do not know his name, but we do know the names of all those who answered “yes” to His call! Peter, John, Matthew, Andrew, Thomas, Jude, etc., etc. They were not rich (well, Matthew the tax-collector was) but they gave their all to the Master, even their lives. The Gospel also tells us of the widow’s mite, which sounded sweeter to Jesus’ ear than the gold coin given by the rich man.

Why are we, who have so much more than our old folks had, so much less generous than they were? Do we cringe when we hear Jesus’ words: “It’s easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter Heaven,” or do we shrug and think “I’m not rich”? Hmmm. When I think of Nonno Gianni and Nonna Adele I think I better practice getting through the eye of that needle!