COMMENTARY: Developing a Spirituality of Abundance

c. 2004 Religion News Service (Tom Ehrich is a writer and computer consultant, managing large-scale database implementations. An Episcopal priest, he lives in Durham, N.C. Visit his Web site at http://www.onajourney.org.) EMERALD ISLE, N.C. _ Our new gear for this beach trip is a portable canvas gazebo, i.e. sunburn prevention device. Otherwise, it’s just family, […]

c. 2004 Religion News Service

(Tom Ehrich is a writer and computer consultant, managing large-scale database implementations. An Episcopal priest, he lives in Durham, N.C. Visit his Web site at http://www.onajourney.org.)

EMERALD ISLE, N.C. _ Our new gear for this beach trip is a portable canvas gazebo, i.e. sunburn prevention device.


Otherwise, it’s just family, sand and surf. The simple life.

Plus beach novels, of course, cell phones, sunscreen, office work for grown-ups. And, in the rental house, hot shower, icemaker, computer, broadband Internet access, ceiling fans, comfortable beds. And a market nearby selling shrimp.

OK, it isn’t so simple. A truly simplified life is difficult to conceive. Our modern lives are complex, connected and schedule-bound. For us to have a beach week at all, we have to bring at least some other parts with us. Icemaker can go, but not computer for writing. Shrimp can go, but not books.

The question is what matters. Not what is the most I can have, but what is the least? For this week to work as a time of rest, what is the minimum for sustaining family and self? I can strip away many things, probably more than I realize, but there is a level of least, and it isn’t zero. If I can’t write, for example, this week becomes deprivation, not relaxation. If my wife and I can’t walk along the sand, what was the point of driving four hours in heavy traffic?

My minimum, of course, would be another person’s extravagance. They would scoff at my laptop computer or envy it. They would see us walking together and remember a partnership lost to death or divorce. Some of what I take for granted _ health, family _ are vanished dreams for others.

We tend to approach the problem of abundance by considering greed. Rightly so, I suppose, for greed will ruin more lives than any other flaw in the human condition, except possibly pride.

But the ethics of greed quickly becomes one person telling another, “You have too much.” Then come arguments, defensiveness, fortress houses, fortress social classes, fortress nations. Then comes the grab-and-run behavior we see now, as executives grab absurd salaries, government contractors grab cushy deals, politicians grab funds, as if they were children wildly scooping Halloween candy before some grown-up intervenes.

A spirituality of abundance might come at it differently and lead, not to further division, but to self-examination. We could start by considering the least.


To be myself, as God made me, what is the least I must have? Freedom matters more than comfort. Love matters more than shrimp. Writing matters more than windsurfing. Health matters more than icemaker.

If I have more than my least, why do I have it? What appetite couldn’t I control? What fear was I trying to overcome? What impression was I trying to make? What dark night was I trying to escape?

It will be necessary at some point to ask what damage I did to others to get more than my least. But, again, that tends to be a pathway to defensiveness and clutching. It’s why discussions of America’s dependence on petroleum never lead anywhere.

Better, I think, to do the hard work of considering our least. That will be hard work. Least is a moving target, shaped by maturity and experience. Least requires more self-knowledge than we tend to have. Least forces us to name values and to confront powerful forces that would define our values for us.

Once we name our least, we can examine the more. Why, for example, did I consider it necessary to bring my financial management files to the beach? Control issues? Nervousness about downtime? This isn’t good vs. bad, just questions worth considering.

I think of writing as my pathway to spiritual maturity. But maybe my least was falling asleep on the sand and waking up to family pleased by my letting go.


Fighting over more has led humanity nowhere. It has made us slaves to appetites and to appetite-profiteers. It has yielded the class war that faces us now, with some manically grabbing everything they can before the party ends and others burdening tomorrow with debt in order to feel OK today.

It is time to step back, to consider our least and our more, and to discover all that truly doesn’t matter.

DEA/PH END EHRICH

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