Three One Dollar Bills

A Short Story by Brady Murphy

A man went to church on Sunday as he always had, since he was a small boy with his parents. Now he was forty three and had three children and a wife, who were not with him this Sunday. His wife told him that she was not feeling spiritually connected with this church, and was staying home this weekend. His oldest daughter was working, his oldest son was tired, and his wife didn’t want to force him to go to church if he didn’t want to.

And so the man sat in a pew, listening to the organ play as the church’s choir (famed for their shrillness) sang ‘Kyrie’. His youngest daughter, a little girl only two years old, sat beside him, eyes still not fully taking in everything around her, ears not deciphering all of the noise, and mind certainly not grasping what was being done. Still, she hadn’t cried, as she did last week.

“Today’s collection shall go to the holy church, to better us all spiritually and bring us into good health. The Lord bless you all.”

The priest concluded and sent several wicker baskets out. The man reached into his coat pocket to see if he had anything to give, but after a moment of searching found nothing. A young woman next to him saw this and smiled at him and his child.

“Here.”

She leaned over and offered the man three one dollar bills, out of the six she held in her hand.

“Thank you very much, miss,” he said to the woman. “That’s very kind of you.”

When the basket reached them, she took hold of it. To the man’s surprise, she put one dollar in, and pocketed the other two dollars. As she handed the basket to the man, she replied:

“You keep what you don’t give.”

The man thought about this for a brief moment as he accepted the three one dollar bills without so much as another noise. He passed the wicker basket on, deciding he’d give to the next one when it came around. When he grew up he was told not to talk in church, so he did not talk in church. People around him were putting money into the little wicker baskets, their offering up to the church. Others simply passed the baskets along. There was no judgement; times were hard for many of the members of this congregation, and if a man or woman did not have even a few dollars to spare, there was no shame in that.

Indeed, times were hard, the man told himself. Things were not so good for he and his family. It was not that the church shouldn’t have the money, it was simply that he may need it more, even a few dollars like this. Afterall, couldn’t the church survive just fine without a measly three dollars?

But then, couldn’t he? The man felt guilty for his former thoughts. He had a home, supported children, and he and his wife both worked; they could make ends meet, and three dollars would not be enough to make a dent one way or another. The same reasons the church could survive without the money were the same as to why he could survive without it. This, he reasoned, was not a matter of survival, but a matter of comfort and ease. Three one dollar bills would not afford much comfort for the church; perhaps they could print more booklets for this year’s easter celebration? However, three dollars could buy himself and his daughter an ice cream cone to enjoy together on the ride home.

The wicker baskets came closer.

For a moment he cursed the woman that had given him the three dollars. If she had not introduced this dilemma to him, he could have made a decision now, and he would be rid of this painstaking back-and-forth. But then, he came to realize, this was not fair of him to do. She merely wanted to help him, and give he and his daughter some money. There was nothing wrong with that. But, if that were true, why did she say whatever he did not give he could keep? Was it possible she wanted him to do something? Was she looking to see if he was a pious man? If he would selflessly give all the money to the church, or perhaps she was like him -- struggling along, and, as a sort of solidarity or kinship gave him what little she left over, knowing well that holding onto the money was not a bad thing. Not really, anyway.

The older man sitting to his other side accepted the basket from the other line of pews and gave nothing, handing it to the boy, who handed it to the man. Now was the time for him to make a decision. He thought about it for only a moment, racking his brain, but wishing to hold up the line as little as possible. He wanted to keep up appearances like everyone else around him, but the decision was not an easy one. He wondered briefly, did everyone experience some internal dread like this when faced with such a simple crossroads? Did everyone ponder so much the minutia as he had? He did not want to waste any more time. Any longer to hesitate and he would draw heads, raise eyebrows, or worse, appear uncertain.

Wordlessly, he closed his eyes, and put one one dollar bill into the basket. The woman who had given him the three one dollar bills smiled.