Abundance
One crisp autumn weekday at a previous congregation where I served, I met with a volunteer to finish the annual Religious Education cleanup. Other volunteers and I had worked individually and in pairs over a couple of weeks. Finally it came down to the day when some things had to get thrown out. My volunteer buddy ruthlessly discarded torn paper, half-completed activity folders, and empty toilet paper rolls. It was hard for me to let some of those things go. When it came to the scraps of yarn, I just couldn’t do it.
Yarn is a religious artifact for UUs. At congregational retreats, at youth and young adult conferences, and in seminary classes—time and time again I’ve been part of the construction of an “interdependent web.” Participants toss a ball of yarn between them, naming their connections, holding on to a piece of the yarn as a visible reminder of the links between and among us. It is a powerful, visible, and kinetic activity; just the sort of thing to get us out of our heads for a minute and to make our theology more accessible to everyone, regardless of learning style.
The yarn in question, however, was not neatly balled up, ready to become an instrument of spiritual growth. I think I managed to rescue one or two large enough skeins that we might use in the classroom. The rest were short bits and tangled clumps. Humbled by the volunteer’s example of boundary-setting, I removed the chaotic yarn bits from the building. I probably should have thrown them out, but I took them home. I re-wound the strands into little balls, a few at a time when I was watching TV or waiting for a phone meeting. For awhile, the tiny balls of yarn just sat in a cardboard box, taking up valuable real estate next to my desk.
I was rescued from my extra baggage by one of my UU friends. She posted to Facebook that she was looking for bits of yarn that she could use for a kids’ workshop on world religions. Apparently, small pieces were just perfect, and I was glad to pass them along. I like the idea that there are real pieces of yarn and invisible threads connecting UU children and youth to the kids in her workshop.
That being said, I also recognize that it was not necessarily strategic of me to keep stuff hanging around that neither I nor the church could use. My impulse came from a place of scarcity, a fear of letting go of what I don’t need because I’m worried that I won’t have what I do need some time in the future. If this is a world in which each individual is in a contest for survival of the fittest, it is tempting to hoard things like food, water, and art supplies.
The Challenge of Abundance
We hear that there is not enough wealth, not enough water, not enough health care, not enough access to opportunity to go around. In our individual lives, we may have direct experience with the lack of all of those resources. Advertising tells us that we are not thin enough, smart enough, fashionable enough, or efficient enough. Acerbic comments around the break room, the edges of the playground, on-line, or even around the kitchen table warn us that we can never be good enough employees, friends, parents, children, or representatives of our culture. All of that is scarcity talking. The “not enough” demons divide us into competitive isolation.
The thing is, if we’re talking about survival of the fittest in terms of the actual data, animal species that can cooperate in social groups have a distinct evolutionary edge. When we gather food together, groom together, and look out for each other through birth and death, we are more likely to thrive in our environment. Focusing on scarcity drives us apart. Cooperating is associated with abundance.
Cultivating an attitude of abundance takes effort. Recognizing the mindset of scarcity when it comes up, noticing that it contains both truth and illusion, helps us to overcome it. Practicing gratitude orients us to build on our assets. An attitude of abundance helps us to be fully present in the world as our whole selves. We have less need of reserving some part of our souls just in case.
Collectively, we are enough. We are worthy people. We are kind enough, smart enough, spiritually grounded enough, smart enough, powerful enough to experience joy in this life and to increase right relationship in our world. We can figure out how to share wisdom and resources. We can let go of what we don’t need in faith that what we do need is possible to achieve. We can be ourselves, because enough is enough; we don’t have to be perfect.
Furthermore, we can see the logic in creating a society where justice, resources, equality, and compassion reach everyone. Our own access to those things is not threatened when someone else has them. We are enough to start working on the society we want to see.
And, friends, there is a lot to work on. We have our individual struggles, and questions about the future of our planet. We also wonder about the well-being of our families and of the institutions we love. Will there be enough? Can we thrive? I cannot promise prosperity. My hope and my faith tell me that facing uncertainty together will take us further than turning away out of a sense of scarcity. We are enough to start.
The Myth of Scarcity
Let’s start by recognizing the myth of scarcity for what it is. There is some truth in limitations. Many of us know first hand what it is like not to have enough of something we need for life and health. Chiefly, I’m talking about water, food, and shelter; but missing out things like love, a sense of safety, intellectual engagement, or a chance to explore meaning also affects people deeply. Personal scarcity of resources is real, and is not purely a product of negative thinking or bad choices. Not only that, the mental calculations and emotional energy involved in surviving a period of missing vital resources leave evidence that can far outlast the lean times.
Like many myths, scarcity has a grain of truth in it. We have to acknowledge that truth in order to see through the illusion and exaggeration. Abundance doesn’t mean that we can have everything we ever wanted through positive thinking. Abundance means broadening our horizons about addressing human needs and combining our forces. It means opening our minds and hearts to a certain level of risk in giving and in receiving. Abundance means recognizing that each one of us and every single one of our neighbors worldwide deserves to have their needs met.
One person can be enough, even if they don’t have enough. As people, we are worthy enough, smart enough, loveable enough, spiritually centered enough to make a difference. Even in our brokenness, we are whole. Our Universalist heritage assures us that the Source of Love is large enough to embrace us all. Scarcity of personal resources is often a reality. Scarcity of being is not.
Furthermore, when you put us all together as a society, communal scarcity is exaggerated. Some estimates say that there are five vacant homes for every homeless person in our country. Matching people with homes and navigating the laws and funding may not be simple, but scarcity of housing is not the problem.
Social work professor and researcher Brené Brown writes:
Worrying about scarcity is our culture’s version of post-traumatic stress. It happens when we’ve been through too much, and rather than coming together to heal (which requires vulnerability), we’re angry and scared and at each other’s throats.
(Daring Greatly, p. 27)
I think she has a point. Many people are still in the midst of lean times, and some others are worn out survivors. Not only that, even those who live in relative comfort have been through one national conversation after another about terrorism and other forms of community trauma. Our coping strategies for concrete scarcity carry over into mythical scarcity, unless we recognize what’s going on and open our minds and hearts to more creative solutions.
Healing from our wounds would give us a greater ability to find resources and to cultivate an attitude of abundance. It is an emotional and spiritual task to re-orient ourselves toward hope. Communal scarcity is a logistical problem, not a lack of resource problem. Scarcity of being, the idea that we are not enough, is a bogeyman made up by advertising and reinforced by the false comparisons we make when we are angry and scared. We are enough.
Gratitude
One avenue for cultivating a culture of abundance is gratitude. At first, this might sound overly simplistic. I don’t mean counting our blessings as a distraction from reality. Gratitude is a strategic lens for accepting our strengths and committing ourselves to use them with good stewardship.
Gratitude—acknowledging and appreciating the skills and resources we already have—is not simply a sweet thing put on a bumper sticker. Know your assets and appreciate their power. Minimizing your abilities is not helpful. Remembering that we actually have talents and other treasures among us gives us courage to embark on our shared quest.
When we’re caught in the reactivity of fear and scarcity, gratitude does not necessarily come easily. It takes practice. Step one is noticing when we are feeling frightened, defensive, or anxious. Step two is to put the gratitude plan into action. Brené Brown writes that, even when we are happy, fear sneaks in with foreboding, trying to undercut our joy and protect us from future disappointment. She says the response is more gratitude. Her formula is to say out loud, “I’m feeling vulnerable and I’m so grateful for _______.” She continues with a story:
Just recently, Steve (her husband) told me that he was thinking about taking the kids to his family’s farmhouse in Pennsylvania while I was out of town for work. I immediately thought it was a great idea, until I started boarding the crazy train of Oh, my God, I can’t let them fly without me; what if something happens? Rather than picking a fight, being critical, or making up something to quash the idea without revealing my unreasonable fears (e.g., “That’s a terrible idea. Airfare is really high right now,” or, “That’s selfish, I want to go too.”), I just said, “Vulnerability. Vulnerability. I’m grateful for … for … the kids getting to spend alone time with you and explore the country outside.”
Steve smiled. He’s well aware of my practice, and he knew I meant it.
(From Daring Greatly: How the Courage to be Vulnerable Transforms the Way We Live, Love, Parent, and Lead, p. 127)
Brown’s story shows us how real people, not just characters in motivational stories, can put gratitude into practice as a strategy. Giving thanks switches the traffic light in our hearts from isolation-red to connection-green. Gratitude leads to awareness of our interdependence. We are part of something larger than ourselves.
Conclusion
You are enough. You are smart enough, adorable enough, kind enough, wise enough, and strong enough that your presence in the world is a blessing. Put together with all of our siblings and sisters and brothers, look at what we can create. We are enough. When we can let go of our fears enough to share something that is loving and true, we form something that is more than the sum of our parts. We draw together resources and organize for change, working toward the day when every person not only is enough, but has enough. Let us work, love, and share abundantly in anticipation of that day.
So be it. Blessed be. Amen.
Yarn is a religious artifact for UUs. At congregational retreats, at youth and young adult conferences, and in seminary classes—time and time again I’ve been part of the construction of an “interdependent web.” Participants toss a ball of yarn between them, naming their connections, holding on to a piece of the yarn as a visible reminder of the links between and among us. It is a powerful, visible, and kinetic activity; just the sort of thing to get us out of our heads for a minute and to make our theology more accessible to everyone, regardless of learning style.
The yarn in question, however, was not neatly balled up, ready to become an instrument of spiritual growth. I think I managed to rescue one or two large enough skeins that we might use in the classroom. The rest were short bits and tangled clumps. Humbled by the volunteer’s example of boundary-setting, I removed the chaotic yarn bits from the building. I probably should have thrown them out, but I took them home. I re-wound the strands into little balls, a few at a time when I was watching TV or waiting for a phone meeting. For awhile, the tiny balls of yarn just sat in a cardboard box, taking up valuable real estate next to my desk.
I was rescued from my extra baggage by one of my UU friends. She posted to Facebook that she was looking for bits of yarn that she could use for a kids’ workshop on world religions. Apparently, small pieces were just perfect, and I was glad to pass them along. I like the idea that there are real pieces of yarn and invisible threads connecting UU children and youth to the kids in her workshop.
That being said, I also recognize that it was not necessarily strategic of me to keep stuff hanging around that neither I nor the church could use. My impulse came from a place of scarcity, a fear of letting go of what I don’t need because I’m worried that I won’t have what I do need some time in the future. If this is a world in which each individual is in a contest for survival of the fittest, it is tempting to hoard things like food, water, and art supplies.
The Challenge of Abundance
We hear that there is not enough wealth, not enough water, not enough health care, not enough access to opportunity to go around. In our individual lives, we may have direct experience with the lack of all of those resources. Advertising tells us that we are not thin enough, smart enough, fashionable enough, or efficient enough. Acerbic comments around the break room, the edges of the playground, on-line, or even around the kitchen table warn us that we can never be good enough employees, friends, parents, children, or representatives of our culture. All of that is scarcity talking. The “not enough” demons divide us into competitive isolation.
The thing is, if we’re talking about survival of the fittest in terms of the actual data, animal species that can cooperate in social groups have a distinct evolutionary edge. When we gather food together, groom together, and look out for each other through birth and death, we are more likely to thrive in our environment. Focusing on scarcity drives us apart. Cooperating is associated with abundance.
Cultivating an attitude of abundance takes effort. Recognizing the mindset of scarcity when it comes up, noticing that it contains both truth and illusion, helps us to overcome it. Practicing gratitude orients us to build on our assets. An attitude of abundance helps us to be fully present in the world as our whole selves. We have less need of reserving some part of our souls just in case.
Collectively, we are enough. We are worthy people. We are kind enough, smart enough, spiritually grounded enough, smart enough, powerful enough to experience joy in this life and to increase right relationship in our world. We can figure out how to share wisdom and resources. We can let go of what we don’t need in faith that what we do need is possible to achieve. We can be ourselves, because enough is enough; we don’t have to be perfect.
Furthermore, we can see the logic in creating a society where justice, resources, equality, and compassion reach everyone. Our own access to those things is not threatened when someone else has them. We are enough to start working on the society we want to see.
And, friends, there is a lot to work on. We have our individual struggles, and questions about the future of our planet. We also wonder about the well-being of our families and of the institutions we love. Will there be enough? Can we thrive? I cannot promise prosperity. My hope and my faith tell me that facing uncertainty together will take us further than turning away out of a sense of scarcity. We are enough to start.
The Myth of Scarcity
Let’s start by recognizing the myth of scarcity for what it is. There is some truth in limitations. Many of us know first hand what it is like not to have enough of something we need for life and health. Chiefly, I’m talking about water, food, and shelter; but missing out things like love, a sense of safety, intellectual engagement, or a chance to explore meaning also affects people deeply. Personal scarcity of resources is real, and is not purely a product of negative thinking or bad choices. Not only that, the mental calculations and emotional energy involved in surviving a period of missing vital resources leave evidence that can far outlast the lean times.
Like many myths, scarcity has a grain of truth in it. We have to acknowledge that truth in order to see through the illusion and exaggeration. Abundance doesn’t mean that we can have everything we ever wanted through positive thinking. Abundance means broadening our horizons about addressing human needs and combining our forces. It means opening our minds and hearts to a certain level of risk in giving and in receiving. Abundance means recognizing that each one of us and every single one of our neighbors worldwide deserves to have their needs met.
One person can be enough, even if they don’t have enough. As people, we are worthy enough, smart enough, loveable enough, spiritually centered enough to make a difference. Even in our brokenness, we are whole. Our Universalist heritage assures us that the Source of Love is large enough to embrace us all. Scarcity of personal resources is often a reality. Scarcity of being is not.
Furthermore, when you put us all together as a society, communal scarcity is exaggerated. Some estimates say that there are five vacant homes for every homeless person in our country. Matching people with homes and navigating the laws and funding may not be simple, but scarcity of housing is not the problem.
Social work professor and researcher Brené Brown writes:
Worrying about scarcity is our culture’s version of post-traumatic stress. It happens when we’ve been through too much, and rather than coming together to heal (which requires vulnerability), we’re angry and scared and at each other’s throats.
(Daring Greatly, p. 27)
I think she has a point. Many people are still in the midst of lean times, and some others are worn out survivors. Not only that, even those who live in relative comfort have been through one national conversation after another about terrorism and other forms of community trauma. Our coping strategies for concrete scarcity carry over into mythical scarcity, unless we recognize what’s going on and open our minds and hearts to more creative solutions.
Healing from our wounds would give us a greater ability to find resources and to cultivate an attitude of abundance. It is an emotional and spiritual task to re-orient ourselves toward hope. Communal scarcity is a logistical problem, not a lack of resource problem. Scarcity of being, the idea that we are not enough, is a bogeyman made up by advertising and reinforced by the false comparisons we make when we are angry and scared. We are enough.
Gratitude
One avenue for cultivating a culture of abundance is gratitude. At first, this might sound overly simplistic. I don’t mean counting our blessings as a distraction from reality. Gratitude is a strategic lens for accepting our strengths and committing ourselves to use them with good stewardship.
Gratitude—acknowledging and appreciating the skills and resources we already have—is not simply a sweet thing put on a bumper sticker. Know your assets and appreciate their power. Minimizing your abilities is not helpful. Remembering that we actually have talents and other treasures among us gives us courage to embark on our shared quest.
When we’re caught in the reactivity of fear and scarcity, gratitude does not necessarily come easily. It takes practice. Step one is noticing when we are feeling frightened, defensive, or anxious. Step two is to put the gratitude plan into action. Brené Brown writes that, even when we are happy, fear sneaks in with foreboding, trying to undercut our joy and protect us from future disappointment. She says the response is more gratitude. Her formula is to say out loud, “I’m feeling vulnerable and I’m so grateful for _______.” She continues with a story:
Just recently, Steve (her husband) told me that he was thinking about taking the kids to his family’s farmhouse in Pennsylvania while I was out of town for work. I immediately thought it was a great idea, until I started boarding the crazy train of Oh, my God, I can’t let them fly without me; what if something happens? Rather than picking a fight, being critical, or making up something to quash the idea without revealing my unreasonable fears (e.g., “That’s a terrible idea. Airfare is really high right now,” or, “That’s selfish, I want to go too.”), I just said, “Vulnerability. Vulnerability. I’m grateful for … for … the kids getting to spend alone time with you and explore the country outside.”
Steve smiled. He’s well aware of my practice, and he knew I meant it.
(From Daring Greatly: How the Courage to be Vulnerable Transforms the Way We Live, Love, Parent, and Lead, p. 127)
Brown’s story shows us how real people, not just characters in motivational stories, can put gratitude into practice as a strategy. Giving thanks switches the traffic light in our hearts from isolation-red to connection-green. Gratitude leads to awareness of our interdependence. We are part of something larger than ourselves.
Conclusion
You are enough. You are smart enough, adorable enough, kind enough, wise enough, and strong enough that your presence in the world is a blessing. Put together with all of our siblings and sisters and brothers, look at what we can create. We are enough. When we can let go of our fears enough to share something that is loving and true, we form something that is more than the sum of our parts. We draw together resources and organize for change, working toward the day when every person not only is enough, but has enough. Let us work, love, and share abundantly in anticipation of that day.
So be it. Blessed be. Amen.