If you’ve been reading The Third Half for a while, you may recall a previous post where I openly wrestled with my own worst linguistic habits:👉 "Circumlocution or Sesquipedalianism?"For the uninitiated,sesquipedalian literally means "a foot and a half long." It is a brilliantly ironic, multi-syllabic term used to describe people who use unnecessarily long words when simple ones would do just fine. I am, as my friends and readers know all too well, repeatedly guilty as charged. I use to think it made me sound clever. It doesn’t. It’s now a form of self ridicule (like laughing about my baldness). Left to my own devices, I will happily trade a perfectly good two-syllable word for a five-syllable monstrosity, usually under the guise of "precision," but mostly out of an unabashed fondness for intellectual linguistic clutter. So, consider this my fair warning - I am about to do it again.
Except this time, I promise there is a genuine, human point behind the vocabulary.
Enter "Eleemosynary"
Pronounced el-i-MOS-i-ner-ee, it looks like the sort of word that escaped from an 18th-century tax manual or got lost on its way to a Victorian court document.
Despite sounding like a medical condition or an overly complicated legal clause, its definition is surprisingly gentle. It simply means relating to or dependent on charity, or charitable.
It traces back to the Ancient Greek eleēmosynē”, meaning compassion, mercy, or pity. Where modern usage of the word "charity" can sometimes feel transactional (tax deductions, annual gala’s, corporate press releases), eleemosynary retains a quieter, older resonance. It isn't just about writing a cheque - it is about the underlying posture of compassion that prompts us to look out for one another.
Beyond Big Words
In my earlier muttering on sesquipedalianism, I celebrated the sheer playfulness of language. It’s fun - honestly - to collect rare words the way some people collect vintage watches or obscure vinyl records. Ahem. But as much as I enjoy dusting off a foot-and-a-half-long term to see if anyone notices, vocabulary for vocabulary's sake is just intellectual decoration.
Where sesquipedalian is self-indulgent, eleemosynary points outward. It asks a practical question - What are you actually doing with what you have?
On The Third Half, we spend a lot of time talking about what happens after the traditional finish lines of career and ambition. When you stop sprinting toward the next milestone, what fills the space? The answer, more often than not, comes back to eleemosynary pursuits (redirecting our time, energy, and accumulated perspective toward helping others flourish).
What an Eleemosynary Life Looks Like
You don't need a grand foundation or a trust fund to live in an eleemosynary way. In fact, some of the most meaningful charitable acts have nothing to do with money at all:
Generosity of Time. Showing up for people without an agenda, mentoring someone starting out, checking in on a neighbour, or volunteering for a local cause that gets zero spotlight.
Generosity of Knowledge. Sharing what you’ve learned (especially the mistakes) without charging a consultation fee or holding back the "secret sauce."
Generosity of Attention. In an era where everyone is competing for clicks and eyeballs, simply giving someone your undivided, unhurried focus is an act of genuine quiet charity.
A Resolution to Use Fewer Words (and Do More)
I will probably never fully cure myself of sesquipedalianism. The urge to use a word like eleemosynary when I could simply say charitable is a personal failing I’ve largely come to accept.
But if we’re going to indulge in long words, we might as well pick ones that inspire us to be better humans. A big vocabulary might make for an interesting essay, but an eleemosynary spirit is what actually builds a good life and a better community.
And it’s better than the dreadful ‘I want to give back’ (as you know…)