Simplicity: 0% APR
Morgan McLean, Intern Minister
November 14, 2010


Note: The sermon is an oral event. This manuscript may not reflect the exact spoken words. If you want to hear what was actually said, you can listen to sermon visit our website at www.uurockford.org. © Morgan McLean, 2010.

My boat of life is not light.

The words from the anthem came from writer Jerome K. Jerome:
“Let your boat of life be light, packed with only what you need –
a homely home and simple pleasures,
one or two friends, worth the name,
someone to love and someone to love you,
a cat, a dog, and a pipe or two,
enough to eat and enough to wear,
and a little more than enough to drink;
for thirst is a dangerous thing.”

I own a lot of stuff. I have moved five times in the last four years, and each time I go through boxes I haven’t opened since the last move and decide to toss, or keep. I give away water glasses and appliances and saran wrap. And somehow by the time the next move comes around, I’ve accumulated more stuff.

Too much stuff. And in just six weeks (can you believe Christmas is already upon us?), I, like you, will get more stuff and I will give stuff to my family and friends, and it will all be wrapped in shinning paper. And we won’t need most of it. Can we live – and give- more simply?

And I am more and more aware of the social and environmental impact of all that unneeded stuff. I have always been aware of the environmental impact of water bottles and plastic grocery bags. I grew up with our 7th Unitarian Universalist principle reminding me that we are part of the interdependent web of all existence. We did not weave this web, we are merely a strand in it. And yet our mere strand is threatening this delicate web, and it’s much bigger and more complicated than reduce-reuse-recycle.

There is a story in our stuff, cycle to the stuff we own. It’s presented in an online video I highly recommend called The Story of Stuff. The story starts with extraction of materials from the earth’s natural resources. Land and raw materials harvested, often destroyed. Those extracted materials then go into production. Factories introduce synthetic materials, using lots of energy and creating the product, and pollution. Once the stuff is produced, it goes into distribution travelling thousands of miles on ships, planes, trains, and trucks to the store. We go to the store, where the consumption happens. When we’re done with the product, or it’s packaging, or when it breaks, it’s time for disposal. We toss it and go back for more. Each step in the cycle in interconnected and begs us to be more thoughtful consumers… I admit it’s a lot to consider when buying a toothbrush, or a computer, but everything we buy carriers serious implications for the use of the world’s resources, the pollution of the environment, the human cost, the social expectations. [Annie Leonard, www.storyofstuff.com]

This consumer cycle is part of the American way of life. Our economy is measured with consumer spending. New gadgets and clothing fashions give us social status and, for many, an improved sense of self – at least temporarily.

In 1955, a retail analyst [Victor LeBeau] said, “Our enormously productive economy…demands that we make consumption our way of life, that we convert the buying and use of goods into rituals, that we seek our spiritual satisfaction, our ego satisfaction, in consumption…we need things consumed, burned up, replaced and discarded at an ever-accelerating rate.”

And we have consumed. We made more stuff. We extracted more and produced more and distributed and consumed and disposed more. We got bigger cars and houses and more TVs. Products today are made to be thrown away. Five years ago my year-old hand mixer broke. I looked into getting it fixed, but it would cost twice as much to fix it as to just buy a new one. Happily, I was visiting my grandma and she pulled out an old electric mixer, it much older than I was, and I have used it ever since. It was made to last, unlike the one I bought.

The same is true with vacuum cleaners, for example. There are still vacuum repair shops, but you have to ask if it’s better to just get a new one. It’s the way we do things. Besides, look at all the great new vacuums, with revolving air tunnels and pivoted handles. Our ego satisfaction is met with our new Dirt Devil or better yet, the robotic vacuum that just does it for you. There is no end to the gadgets and gizmos we’re sold to improve our lives, and impress our friends.

One modern economics observer said that the “gap in our economy is between what we have and what we think we ought to have - and that is a moral problem, not an economic one. [Paul Heyne, University of Washington in Seattle.]

I agree. And I admit he’s talking about me. If I had more money, I would probably live in a bigger apartment, which I would dutifully fill with more stuff.

I love to shop. I admit that it makes me feel good, at least temporarily, to spend money. I don’t over spend – I don’t carry debt on my credit card. I don’t chase the latest designers or newest gadgets. But I cannot walk into a thrift store without buying something. And I could find something I can’t live without in every catalogue that comes my way. I have a sixth sense for finding clearance sales and online deals. And at the end of the day, I don’t feel good about the stuff I have.

There are people who have done something about their consumption. Henry David Thoreau did it over 100 years ago, famously spending 2 years, 2 months, and 2 days living in a small cabin on Ralph Waldo Emerson’ land next to Walden Pond. He walked away from the materialism and creature comforts, and lived simply. There have always been people who have resisted the industrialization and capitalization of our culture and economy. They have met great resistance.

But now it’s trendy. People are telling a different story than what’s been constructed by marketing departments and economic advisors. I see bumper stickers all the time like “Think Globally, Act Locally” or “Live Simply so that others may simply live.” It’s a movement, some people have coined it “Voluntary Simplicity.” There are many books, blogs, and websites devoted to the ideas of returning to a simpler, more sustainable life style. And the key is that everyone can do it.

There are lots of people who have been embracing a simpler lifestyle.

I’ve spoken with several of you about Barbara Kingsolver’s book Animal, Vegetable, Miracle. She and her family decided to move from Tucson, AZ to a farm in Virginia. They spent a year working the farm and living on local and home-grown food. They raised animals and canned vegetables for the winter. It was not without trials, and in the end they learned a lot about their habits and priorities.

This year, another family story emerged in The Power of Half. The Salwen family sold their house and moved into one half its value, and gave the other half of the proceeds-- $800, 000 to charity. The idea started when the teenage daughter made a simple observation at a stoplight. If the man in the car next to them drove a less-nice car, than the homeless man on the corner could have a meal. She realized living in excess was at the cost of others, and the family decided to simplify.

But it’s not just radical family experiments happening.

There is the Great American Apparel Diet, which is a pledge to not buy clothes for at least a year. Or, the man in San Francisco, who vowed not to ride in an automobile for a year, and instead bikes or uses public transportation. [Adam Greenfield, http://gubbinsexperiment.blogspot.com/]

I have even tried an experiment in living simply. One year for Lent I gave up plastic. For 40 days I sought to live without buying or using plastic. No yogurt containers or packaged food or microwavable meals. I ate a lot of vegetables. And spaghetti because it was the only pasta that didn’t have a little plastic screen on the box. It was hard to buy meat, until I realized I could bring in my own container to the local market and the butcher was happy to accommodate my somewhat strange request to put a rotisserie chicken in the pot I brought from home. I have to admit, I all too happily went back to using plastic. But since then I have been ever more mindful of it.

I think that’s our task. Not necessarily a radical life-style change, but gradual steps in becoming more mindful of our consumption. Finding the low-hanging fruit that we might live more simply, act locally, lighten our boat of life, so that other’s may simply live, globally.

Maybe it’s better recycling habits. Or absolutely always using reusable bags. Maybe it’s giving away the stuff in the attic that you haven’t touched for years. Or eating only organic foods. There are ways we can simplify our lives, and our stuff.

As we approach the holiday season, I especially hope we might all consider our consumer habits, and how we might reduce the stuff wrapped so nicely.

Last year there was a lot of buzz around a new book Scroogenomics, in which economist Joel Waldfogel takes an economic spin on gift giving. He looks at data from the last century of holiday spending and ultimately argues that buying gifts destroys is bad for the economy. This is because an item’s worth to its owner is different from its retail price. When you’re buying for yourself, you can determine if the price is worth it to you. For example, a $50 sweater you really like and know you will wear. But when you’re buying for someone else, you could spend the same amount of money on the same sweater, and the person might not like it or need it. Economically, the money spent on gifts doesn’t produce the same satisfaction per-dollar-spent as regular spending. Of course, we don’t give gifts to measure the satisfaction per dollar but why not strive for better money spending habits around the holidays?

Can we resist the Black Friday frenzy? The newest piece of technology? Does everyone need to have the same number of gifts under the tree?

There are many alternative ways of gift-giving that your family and friends might enjoy. Instead of buying bath gels, or calendars, or trinkets just to have something to give – what else could you do?

I realize of course, that some of you may have already completed your shopping, and sent your list to Santa. And in some families the traditions run deep. Maybe this is a family decision, then.

What if your family decided to set a spending limit? Or take do a “secret santa” among the adults.

Could you do an edible gift exchange? Have cookies or mini-bread loafs for friends, instead of hand lotion. Make big food baskets or give a coupon for a home-cooked meal.

How about an entertainment gift exchange? Like tickets to a theater production, or to the movies. Or for a massage or spa day.

There are things your family or friends may already do – like a membership to the museum or AAA, or even Netflix – how about paying for a month? Or renewing their membership for the following year? Wrap it with a fancy ribbon, and know that it will be used. Scroogenomics says that’s good financial sense, and a valuable gift.

I often give Carbon offsets through the website Carbonfund.org, which is an organization run by a fellow Unitarian Universalist in Maryland. There you can calculate your carbon footprint, and become carbon-neutral by investing in renewable energy or reforestation projects. I know the make and model of my family members’ cars, and for around $30, I can offset their carbon emissions for the year.

My dad’s favorite gift to give is chickens and honeybees through Heifer International. You sponsor the cost of an animal for a family who then receives the animal and training. Chickens, for example, produce eggs to sell, and more chickens to sell and to eat. It’s a gift in someone’s name, that comes with a global awareness and far-reaching effects.

And none of it ends up in the landfill. Or the attic. Or next year’s trash and treasure sale.

Living simply, and giving simply, is something we know we have to do for our planet.

But it’s also something we should do for ourselves. What we learn from Thoreau and the Kingsolver and the Salwen families is that when we free ourselves, and our budgets, of consumer expectations, new priorities emerge. We affirm, as we sang together, “Life is the greatest gift of all, so treasure it and measure it with deeds of shining worth.” We focus on deeper connections to people and other living things. We become more open to what is essential in our lives-- the intangible things that feed our souls.

Together, we can lighten our boats of life.
Together, we can build a new way of being in this precious web of existence.