How many coats is too many? Sweaters? Shoes? Cans of tuna? Does it count if the coats are old? Where is the line between thrift and greed? I fear John the Baptist would say I crossed it a long time ago.
In response to his harsh words about the judgment to come upon those who do not “bear fruit worthy of repentance,” John’s listeners were perplexed – and anxious:
And the crowds asked him, “What then should we do?” In reply he said to them, “Whoever has two coats must share with anyone who has none; and whoever has food must do likewise.”
I like stuff. I like accumulating it, and I must like storing it and moving it, because much of my stuff has been with me awhile. In fact, I look forward to one day getting some of my mother’s stuff! (Happily, she’s still enjoying it at 96…) And yet I’m also burdened by it, and deeply moved by the need of so many in the world. I suspect I’m not the only person who squirms in that cognitive dissonance.
Greed is not hard to define. It is keeping more than you need, and not sharing it with people who do need it. Almost everyone I know is complicit in a system that fosters greed, even encourages it – after all, buying things is our duty to keep the economy going, right? Except that we could as well keep the economy going by buying things for other people, people who are not related to us, who do not have the resources we have.
Part of my problem, when I am reminded of the hold greed has on me, is that I go to the “all or nothing” place. I’m not ready to downsize to a 300-square-foot tiny house and a 20-item wardrobe and give everything else away, so I guess I just stay greedy until I’m ready to change, right?
Maybe not. Maybe we try the incremental approach. Maybe we figure out some strategies to slow down our rate of accumulation and accelerate our giving to others – and by others, I mean people in genuine need, not gift-giving to our loved ones.
What if we commit to buying one item for a homeless family for every two gifts we buy this Christmas season? (Or buy a gift for a youth in foster care as part of my church’s Giving Tree… click here for the list.) What if we make an equivalent donation each time we buy something for ourselves that is not strictly needed? Even beginning to evaluate our purchases would go a long way toward making us more aware of how much we have relative to so many others. And I suspect linking our accumulation to giving would help us release a lot more.
Am I trying to take all the joy out of prosperity? No. I just think it's possible that John – and Jesus, and St. Francis and thousands of other saints over millennia – had a point. If our joy is located in our prosperity, we’re not ready to dwell in the Life of God. And when our joy is located in the Life of God… we're apt to redefine prosperity.
I like stuff. I like accumulating it, and I must like storing it and moving it, because much of my stuff has been with me awhile. In fact, I look forward to one day getting some of my mother’s stuff! (Happily, she’s still enjoying it at 96…) And yet I’m also burdened by it, and deeply moved by the need of so many in the world. I suspect I’m not the only person who squirms in that cognitive dissonance.
Greed is not hard to define. It is keeping more than you need, and not sharing it with people who do need it. Almost everyone I know is complicit in a system that fosters greed, even encourages it – after all, buying things is our duty to keep the economy going, right? Except that we could as well keep the economy going by buying things for other people, people who are not related to us, who do not have the resources we have.
Part of my problem, when I am reminded of the hold greed has on me, is that I go to the “all or nothing” place. I’m not ready to downsize to a 300-square-foot tiny house and a 20-item wardrobe and give everything else away, so I guess I just stay greedy until I’m ready to change, right?
Maybe not. Maybe we try the incremental approach. Maybe we figure out some strategies to slow down our rate of accumulation and accelerate our giving to others – and by others, I mean people in genuine need, not gift-giving to our loved ones.
What if we commit to buying one item for a homeless family for every two gifts we buy this Christmas season? (Or buy a gift for a youth in foster care as part of my church’s Giving Tree… click here for the list.) What if we make an equivalent donation each time we buy something for ourselves that is not strictly needed? Even beginning to evaluate our purchases would go a long way toward making us more aware of how much we have relative to so many others. And I suspect linking our accumulation to giving would help us release a lot more.
Am I trying to take all the joy out of prosperity? No. I just think it's possible that John – and Jesus, and St. Francis and thousands of other saints over millennia – had a point. If our joy is located in our prosperity, we’re not ready to dwell in the Life of God. And when our joy is located in the Life of God… we're apt to redefine prosperity.
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