Truth be told, I have an off and on fascination with the minimalism movement.
I really love watching shows on tiny houses, seeing people build two hundred square foot spaces that fit all the essentials and use space efficiently. I’ve watched a couple of documentaries on minimalism, people who gave up all their belongings to be more free to travel, to pursue work that pays poorly but is full of meaning, to gain financial freedom. I’ve watched and read all about the Marie Kondo method, which encourages keeping only things that spark joy (plus, I think, the necessities of life). I go back on forth and my own dramatic cleanouts, but then get suckered in at the kitchen goods section of a rummage sale.
So when I heard that a local author from Evanston had engaged in a year-long project with her family of not buying anything, aside from urgent needs (food, utilities, basic clothing) – I had to read her book.
More or Less by Susannah Pratt is a wonderful read, not just because it speaks to this interest I already have, but because it taps into something most of us are dealing with: the massive economy of our stuff.
And Susannah does not offer an easy solution – like I said in my sermon yesterday, I LOVE a good step-by-step DIY program – but she reflects, thoughtfully and powerfully, on what it’s like to live as people who are consumers but also much more than that.
Of course, I don’t recommend reading this book right before Prime Days hit, as I did. But it’s good nonetheless.
She writes about the amount of time we spend sorting, organizing, cleaning, caring for our stuff – and how much that might take us away from other things.
She reflects on how disposable our stuff has become – just hop online and order another – and how this doesn’t just have inevitable environmental implications, as our landfills grow and grow, but it also changes our relationship to our things. We have fewer of those cherished items that have been through our lives, and lives of others, offering continuity, memories, and value – and more and more things that we throw away or forget about.
Our stuff also takes us out of relationship with other people – when we can easily buy what we need, why bother asking a friend or neighbor if we can borrow theirs? Why engage in alternative economies, swapping houseplants for fresh bread, or chicken eggs for a kombucha scoby, when we can just hop online and click away?
A few weeks ago, I had to come up with a children’s message on Luke 9; where Jesus sends the disciples out to share his news without any extra provisions:
Then Jesus called the twelve together and gave them power and authority over all demons and to cure diseases, 2 and he sent them out to proclaim the kingdom of God and to heal the sick. 3 He said to them, “Take nothing for your journey: no staff, nor bag, nor bread, nor money—not even an extra tunic. 4 Whatever house you enter, stay there, and leave from there. 5 Wherever they do not welcome you, as you are leaving that town shake the dust off your feet as a testimony against them.” 6 So they departed and went through the villages, bringing the good news and curing diseases everywhere.
(Translation courtesy of BibleGateway)
I thought about why Jesus would offer such strange instructions to his disciples. And I reflected with the kids on all the stuff we carry, and how we can trust in it more than God.
We can trust in our cell phone battery backup, and our pantry full of canned food, more than in God’s provision or neighbor’s kindness.
Susannah’s book has me contemplating that all over again.
As with any good and challenging thing, it has me restless but uncertain. I don’t have a pathway set out, or twelve steps, but I am thinking more about my relationship to my things.
I’m thinking more about community, more about meeting needs and sharing, more about sufficiency and trust. Less about my shopping cart. I’m thinking about where I put my trust, in a home and a life full of stuff.
I hope you’ll read the book, and let me know what you think too.
-Pastor Jen
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