This morning I was struck by the following question:
Is it possible to have too much material wealth?
And is it possible to have a life with too much leisure -
as harmful as one with too much toil?
I have been re-reading William (Bill) S. Coperthwaite's book
A Handmade Life: In Search of Simplicity (Chelsea Green Publishing, 2003). In his section on Wealth, Riches, Treasure he asks the above question. Coperthwaite has already stated his opinions on work, or is "labor" a better word?, when writing about "bread labor." "Bread Labor" is the work that needs to be done to survive and make the world better at the same time: washing dishes, cooking, child-care, cutting firewood, teaching and planting gardens are all examples. Coperthwaite mentions how Gandhi thought all of this could be done if everyone pitched in two hours a day. Scott and Helen Nearing thought 4 hours a better estimate. Coperthwaite himself writes that when he goes to cut firewood he takes a book with him and alternates cutting and reading. At the end of the day, he is not sure which was the more rewarding exercise and which the more work.
Living on a boat with our family has reminded us that we can't take it all with us. In fact, I look at the amount of books and resources I have collect for pastoral ministry over the years, and realize that while the books are sitting boxed up in a storage unit, they are not doing anyone any good. Yet, am I willing to part with them? Are they now owning me? Frankly, it is easier to put it on the back burner, 'til the next time I get something out of the storage unit and am confronted with seeing once again these material goods that are starting to own me, or do they? When living in a house, I was not confronted with thinking through the material possessions that surrounded us.
Voluntarily choosing to live simply doesn't mean that we have to only live with cheap goods, that were cheaply made of inferior materials, and traveled long distances. It can mean, that because we are choosing to use/have/deal with less things the material goods we do have can be top quality, excel at some design criteria of our own, and/or feel "right" to us. Because we are choosing to have less, the less we have can be quality products. (By the way, this often leads to individuals spending less money over the long run.)
Listen to Coperthwaite:
THE EXAMPLE OF THE RICH
Imagine a society of a thousand people each having a yearly income of $1,000 and living in poverty. Then imagine that one person in that community has an income ten times the average. If this money were divided evenly, it would mean only $10 more per year for each person. This 1 percent increase would help somewhat, but not a great deal. Although a fairer sharing of the world's wealth is urgently necessary, merely redistributing monetary wealth is minuscule in importance compared with the need for intelligent, cooperative action aimed at improving the quality of life.
The wealth of the rich would not mean much if it were spread out evenly, but the example of luxurious living spread about is a time bomb.
The great evil of the rich is the example they set. Yet the power of the rich is very fragile, for their privilege cannot withstand the gaze of an enlightened populace. What good is their accumulated "wealth" if we refused to work for them? If we refused to accept their values and their way of life?
The trap we are in is that we want to emulate the rich. Their factories produce for us, and we are their buyers, the consumers. If we refused to buy junk, they would have to produce quality. A factory is a liability if its products won't sell. They will produce whatever we demand. We have the control - though we don't know it yet - whenever we decide to take responsibility: that is, when we become mature in our economic thinking and in the use of our purchasing power. The monetary power of the wealthy is a social disease that can be cured, but the remedy needs our help.
We now have a class of people living according to a consumption pattern that exceeds that of the monarchs of previous centuries and that is rapidly devouring the world's finite resources. It might not matter, physically, if a few thousand people acted in such adolescent fashion, but when millions do, the effect will ultimately be catastrophic, with the added danger that more millions, seeing the example of the rich, will strive for this luxury as well.
That is our greatest danger now, and the crisis is approaching epidemic proportions. From this vantage point, the "voluntary simplicity" of Richard Gregg becomes more important than every before. Is it possible that we, the people of the industrial nations, the leaders in the race to destroy the earth, could set the pace for a move in a positive direction? Can we meet the challenge?
Whatever we do is watched closely by the poor of the world. Will we use our economic advantage for the good of humankind or will we continue to rob and to exploit?
We must search for ways to live that are within the grasp of all people. In this light, redefining wealth and riches becomes a primary challenge (78-9).
And he sets out some examples. But my point is to get us to think through our own myths about how the "world/realty" operates.
You, dear reader, my be wondering why this is here ... what it has to do with faith and with boating? To me it has everything to do with it. One cannot help but live a simpler life by living on a boat (some of us choose to live simpler than others, those who seek out a way of life distinctly different from that on shore verses those who may want more shore-life-type conveniences), but it is still simpler. And I strongly believe that the biological or carbon footprints are smaller.
But I also strongly believe that the reason we don't recognize (nor can find) the two rivers flowing out of the Garden of Eden (Genesis 2:10-14) is because we are not meant too. Rather, these two rivers are to remind us that the Garden of Eden is just around the corner. Today, they can remind us that we belong in the Garden, and the ways we impact the earth around us, are directly impacting the Garden (which is here, now, around us now).*
The Kingdom/Kindom of God is near - in fact, right around us.
May we have eyes to see, ears to hear, let alone touch, smell, and taste it.
Blessed Be
*For a fuller discussion of this idea, see Brock and Parker's
Saving Paradise