Sermon

November 5, 2006

          In preparation for this sermon, I read a book called Voluntary Simplicity by Duane Elgin. The subtitle is Towards a Way of Life That Is Outwardly Simple, Inwardly Rich. I was surprised to see that the first edition was printed in 1981 and that is 25 years ago and this book is now considered the classical text of the simplicity movement! The simplicity movement began in response to reports of the degradation of our environment and the warning that we will run out of oil by the year 2000. Society is slow to respond to such warnings, especially if they require us to make significant changes in our lifestyle. Voluntary Simplicity was reprinted in 1993. Perhaps this book, and others like Unplug the Christmas Machine (also printed in the early 1980’s), were a reflection of much of society’s deepest knowledge: that we must change our way of living for the sake of our planet and our collective psyche. And then came Wal-Mart, spreading its tentacles around the country and now around the world. Did you know that the biggest Wal-Mart store is in China?!?

            We have been on a quest for abundance but we have found that accumulating things gives us pleasure at first but also the problem of storage second—let alone the depletion of our planet’s resources. And as the author of this morning’s reading says: “We have become curators of our own cluttered reality.” He cautions us, “…most possessions are really butterflies that turn into caterpillars.”

            Buddhism tells us that life’s greatest problem is that we are full of desires or cravings. The solution to this is to detach from cravings—pull away, stand aside and look at it. We will see that exterior clutter leads to interior confusion.

In our history, we have many examples of how the western world has noticed this problem and counseled a simpler life. Our greatest counselor for the simple life was Jesus of Nazareth who wandered around speaking to those who would listen to him, and saying “Do not store up for yourself treasure on earth, where it grows rusty and moth-eaten, and thieves break in to steal it. Store up treasure in heaven….For wherever your [true] treasure is, there will your heart be also.” [Matthew 6:19-21] All the world’s religions tell us this in their own unique way and it is often expressed in various versions of the Golden Rule. (Elgin, pp. 46-47)

Our religious ancestors, the Puritans “brought to America the ‘Puritan ethic,’ which stressed hard work, temperate living, participation in the life of the community, and a steadfast devotion to things spiritual. Puritans also stressed the golden mean by saying we should not desire more material things than we can use effectively.  It is from the New England Puritans that we get the adage, ‘Use it up, wear it out, make do, or do without’…. [and they] encouraged people to use their excess wealth to help the deserving poor. Puritans were not opposed to prosperity itself, but to the greed and selfishness that seemed to accompany excessive abundance.” (Elgin, p. 51) Quakers were living examples of simplicity. Our own Transcendentalists forebears, such as Emerson and Thoreau held that simplicity brings us closer to nature, which I believe that to be true.

Duane Elgin asks us to consider leading lives of voluntary simplicity. He points out that we are fortunate in this day and age to be able to choose simplicity. We are not driven to it by lack or want but by an intent to live a life of inner richness and outer simplicity. A life of inner richness requires a life of outward simplicity, which will also go a long way to solving the planet’s ecological woes and will surely lead us to share our treasure more and bring more peace to the world. Once we start thinking ‘voluntary simplicity’ it will lead us down wholesome paths. Peaceful responses to belligerent challenges from desperate countries will invoke the kind of world in which we can be truly at home.

Our religion has always expressed values that embrace simplicity. Our seven principles are illustrations of this. Duane Elgin identifies patterns of behavior that are often associated with people already on the path of voluntary simplicity. Perhaps you can identify with some of these patterns. He says that those choosing a simpler life:

·        They tend to invest time and energy…with their partner, children, and friends (walking...sharing meals) or volunteering to help others, or getting involved in civic affairs to improve the life of the community.

·        They tend to work on having a healthy body, learning new skills, nurturing friendships, and working on having a quiet mind.

·        They tend to feel an intimate connection with the earth and a reverence for nature.

·        They tend to feel a compassionate concern for the world’s poor and a concern for social justice and equity in the use of the world’s resources.

·        They tend to lower their overall level of personal consumption.

·        They tend to buy products that are more durable, easy to repair, nonpolluting in their manufacture and use, energy-efficient, etc.

·        They tend to shift their diet away from highly processed foods.

·        They tend to recycle and cut back on waste.

·        They tend to alter male-female roles in favor of non-sexist patterns of relationship.

·        They tend to participate in holistic health-care practices…

·        They tend to involve themselves with compassionate causes…

·        They tend to change transportation modes in favor of public transit [Note: here’s where I—Ann Fox—go into guilt mode!!!]…smaller and more fuel-efficient cars…riding a bike and walking.

How did you measure up? I’ll bet most of you embrace most of these practices if you possibly can. I have a friend who is extremely wealthy but who is a prime example of voluntary simplicity. She dresses simply, mostly in black a white, adorned with very little jewelry. Her hair is closely cropped and she rarely wears facial make-up. Her home is wonderfully spacious but simply furnished. She spends her life doing good in the world. Much of the profits from her company go to social justice projects (and some to her church). We are proud to claim her as a Unitarian Universalist. She was much in my mind as I wrote this sermon. How different this world would be if all wealthy people led such lives.

We live in a world gone mad with consumerism. Within weeks, the stores will be filled with holiday music, gorgeous decorations, and enticing goods begging to be bought for gifts. This is our culture—the culture of desire. Will we succumb to the call of television, newspaper and magazine advertising? Or will we, this year, do what Buddhists and Jesus advise: stand apart from desire, detach, ponder the circumstances, do not tumble head-long into instant gratification, do not store up your treasure, but do consciously choose a simpler way. Let us be a people who embrace voluntary simplicity!

Can we have a wonderful holiday season and still be people committed to voluntary simplicity? I believe that we can by being creative consumers and creative hosts. As far as decorations are concerned, perhaps you use your Christmas decorations year after year. And perhaps you, like Leo and me, decorate a living tree in your home. Many of us have made things with our own hands to give as gifts. The goal is to give simple gifts. If we do not have the talent (or ability) to make things—and I do realize that much of what we can make can now be bought more cheaply—we could consider shopping at our Holiday Marketplace that we hold here in the church the second weekend of December, which would support local artisans (some of whom are sitting right here now). Or we could shop from catalogs that give back to the communities? I have here, a catalog with one of the most gorgeous collection of items from artisans from across the world—India, Thailand, Bolivia, Guatemala, Kenya, Uganda, Vietnam, the Philippines, and so on. There are gifts for all price ranges, $4 upwards and every gift supports an artisan somewhere and helps to preserve their culture and livelihood. These are gifts that give. This is the catalog. It is called “A Greater Gift” because these are all gifts that give. I first saw it at General Assembly (our annual gathering of Unitarian Universalists). I have put a stack of them in the Parish Hall. Please browse them and take one of them home only if you think you will truly order from it. If they are all taken and you think you really want one, tell me and I’ll order some more.

I know of no better gift that gives than the fair trade coffee that we serve in our church and that Les Perry sells. Each bag of coffee that we buy allows coffee farmers to grow coffee in organic and sustainable beneficial ways and gives them a living wage. Also, 10% of the cost goes to our UU Service Committee to do their justice work around the world, and $1 a bag goes to the Shepherd’s Pantry to feed those in need in our area. So when we say, “Have a cup of justice!” we mean it!

Another thing that has happened to our culture around the holiday season is that Christmas has revolved around things instead of experiences—outward things, not inner riches. Part of this has occurred because of our homogenized culture. When immigrants first came here, they each had their unique traditions that made the holiday season special. From my own culture of origin, in the U.K., I have the most fabulous memories of Christmastime. The first most prominent memory was of the special foods that we shared only at that time of the year. When Bob Crachitt, of A Christmas Carol fame, said something to the effect, “Mrs. Crachitt, you have outdone yourself. You have made the best Christmas pudding ever!” he was expressing the delight that those people took in the eating of that very dark, rich pudding, chock full of fruits and raisins eaten with hot custard. It was part of what I looked forward to in this season. But there was something else in A Christmas Carol that was at the heart of my holiday and it was the Christmas games: blind man’s buff, dancing, singing of carols, card games and something I will never forget, “What’s My Line?” This was a game when each person was given a line of work to express through mime and the rest of us had to guess what it was.

Personally, I wish we would bring back the Christmas party of fun and games. It is so very easy to do, even if we just get some plays and skits to read as a group or family. This is what creative simplicity is: experiences rather than things.

In the book Unplug the Christmas Machine, the authors relate a story of a grandmother who rented a cabin in the woods with no TV and the family brought potluck meals and spent a day or two together. Even the teenagers loved it. Another grandmother rented a beach house and various family members visited over five or six days. The grandchildren wrote Merry Christmas Grandma in the sand—must have been California or Hawaii!

We have a rich inheritance from all our cultural backgrounds. Perhaps it is time for us to reclaim some of that heritage. For myself, I am going to look into games the Victorians played for I’m sure that our “What’s my line?” game grew out of Victorian fondness for charades. Why don’t you consider researching your own background holiday traditions—the Internet will be very helpful to us all.

History is calling to us not only to vote in change by way of the elections on Tuesday but also to embrace voluntary simplicity to reclaim the life that will help us evolve. The reading this morning reminds us: “If we build up possessions [too much], we will lose our wings to fly.”

May voluntary simplicity be our mantra this holiday season! 

References

The following have informed and inspired this sermon:

Elgin, Duane. Voluntary Simplicity: Toward a Way of Life That Is Outwardly Simple, Inwardly Rich, New York: William Morrow, 1981, 1993.

 Robinson, Jo & Coppock Staeheli, Jean. Unplug the Christmas Machine: A Complete Guide to Putting Love and Joy Back into the Season, New York: William Morrow, 1982, 1991.

Simple Truths: Clear & Gentle Guidance on the Big Issues of Life
by Kent Nerburn

            Most of our possessions arrive in our lives almost by accident. Gradually, like falling snow, they accumulate around us until they form the basis for our identity.

            We do not intend this to happen. Most things we acquire are meant to increase our happiness and sense of fulfillment. But their uniqueness is quickly subsumed into the ordinariness of daily affairs.

            We [may] wake up one day and find ourselves surrounded by possessions that mean nothing to us. Our freedom is gone; our lightness of being is gone. In their place is a sense of responsibility and ownership. We have become curators of our own cluttered reality….

            We must remember that most possessions are really butterflies that turn into caterpillars. They start with the wings of fantasy. We see them as freedom, as happiness. We believe they have the power to change our lives….they [may] give us a moment of elation [but eventually] the thrill of ownership begins to grow cold in our hands….

            [We must]* keep in mind that possessions are as likely to make [us] unhappy as they are to make us happy.… They are chameleons that change from fantasies into responsibilities once [we] hold them in our hands….

            When the objects accumulate, [we should] do what [we] must to free [ourselves] from their false importance. Give away what [we] don’t use. Go on a long trip and travel lightly. Find a possession [we] value highly and give it to someone who would value it more….

            Listen to the quieter wisdom that says you will value your possessions more if you have fewer of them, and that you will find deeper meaning in human sharing than in the accumulation of goods.

            If [we] build up possessions just as the logical outcome of pursuing [our] desires, [we] will lose [our] wings to fly.

*Most of the words in parentheses are to replace first person pronouns with third person so as not to sound accusatory!