First Parish Unitarian UniversalistCan We Defend Our "Way of Life"?
A Sermon Preached by the Reverend Diane Teichert
First Parish Unitarian Universalist - Canton, MA
December 16, 2001
A Christian scholar of the Hebrew Bible, Walter Brueggemann, says that, "The Bible starts out with a liturgy of abundance. The first chapter of Genesis is a song of praise for God's generosity. It tells how well the world is ordered. It keeps saying, "it is good, it is good, it is good, it is very good." It declares that God Blesses-that is, endows with vitality-the plants and the animals and the fish and the birds and humankind and all that is.
In Psalm 104.the psalmist surveys creation and names it all: the heavens and the earth, the waters and springs and streams and trees and birds and goats and wine and oil and bread and people and lions.
The last Psalm, 150, is an exuberant expression of amazement at God's goodness. It just says, "praise Yahweh, praise Yahweh with lute, praise Yahweh with trumpet, praise, praise, praise."
Together, writes Brueggemann, these three scriptures proclaim that God's force of life is loose in the world. Genesis 1 affirms generosity... Psalm 104 celebrates the buoyancy of creation and rejects anxiety. Psalm 150 enacts abandoning oneself to God and letting go of the need to have anything under control."
To me this biblical message is all about trusting that there is enough and living with what's enough, of appreciating and reciprocating the abundance of good in life.
Along comes Pharaoh, says Brueggemann, who dreams that there will be a famine in the land. "So Pharaoh gets organized to administer, control and monopolize the food supply. Pharaoh introduces the principle of scarcity in the world economy. For the first time in the Bible, someone says, `There's not enough. Let's get everything.'
Because Pharaoh.is afraid that there aren't enough good things to go around, he must try to have them all. Because he is fearful, he is ruthless. Pharaoh hires Joseph to manage the monopoly. When the crops fail and the peasants run out of food, they come to Joseph. And on behalf of Pharaoh, Joseph says, `What's your collateral?' They give up their land for food, and then, the next year, they give up their cattle. By the third year of the famine they have no collateral but themselves. And that's how the children of Israel become slaves--through an economic transaction.
. The notion of scarcity has [thus] been introduced into biblical faith," notes Brueggemann. "The Book of Exodus [then] records the contest between the liturgy of generosity and the myth of scarcity-a contest that still tears us apart today." (Walter Brueggemann, "The Liturgy of Abundance, the Myth of Scarcity," Christian Century, March 24-31, 1999; pp. 342-3).
In the reading this morning [by Barbara Ehrenreich, from Nickel and Dimed], we heard testimony to one of the ways that this contest tears us apart today, in the problems of the working poor whose boats did not rise in the rising tide of the 1990's when the rich got richer. The Unitarian Universalist preacher Marilyn Sewall says "greed" is the theological word for economic inequity (How Much Do We Deserve?, by Richard S. Gilbert, p. vii).
Isn't there enough for us all? Can't those who are better-off live with what is, simply, enough? Do we appreciate the abundance of the earth's and our own resources, and do we reciprocate with generosity? Are we renewing those resources by living an environmentally and spiritually sustainable life-style? Or are we like Pharoah, worried that there won't be enough, greedily wanting to have it all?
These and most of my questions this morning don't have easy answers. But, I feel the questions are crucial-for the earth, for progress toward world peace, and for the spiritual well-being of all including the well-off.
As a theological school student preparing for Unitarian Universalist ministry, I took the Intro to Islam course taught at Harvard by Professor Ali Asani, a Muslim. Without consulting my notes to refresh my memory, I can tell you about two things I learned in that course, besides the remaining impression of my professor as a warm and intelligent human being with a love for his religion and a fervent desire that those in the class who were not Muslims should understand it, as much as is possible across our differences.
One learning was in regard to the Qur'an. I learned that the tradition believes that Mohammad received the Qur'an directly from God and commenced to write it down, despite the fact that he was illiterate. Because it is believed to be the direct word of God, the Qur'an is only authentic in Arabic, the language in which it was received. This, I could see, would tend toward a literal interpretation of the Qur'an. I found this unappealing, much as I do literal interpretations of the Jewish or Christian scriptures, as if cultural and historical context is immaterial. This literalism, I felt sure, would eventually result in the appearance of second or third generation American Muslims in UU congregations, seeking community with others who use reason to guide their faith. And I hoped we'd be ready.
The other learning was in regard to an aspect of Islam I found more appealing, and is related to our topic this morning. Professor Asani impressed on us that Islam's message presents constructive challenges to the materialism of the American way of life. Three of the Five Pillars, or essential practices, of Islam are especially. The first is the confession, the Shahada, which begins with "there is no god but God," meaning one honors God over everything including material things, power, status, image. Another is salat, the prayer practice that structures daily life around opportunities-five times a day-to pause from the material demands of work, home and play to pray, to praise God, ask forgiveness, and renew one's spiritual self. The third is almsgiving or zakat, essentially an Islamic welfare system in which those who have extra income share with those who do not have enough. The fourth and fifth Pillars are Ramadan (the thirty-day, daytime fast that ends this year tomorrow) and the Hajj or Great Pilgrimage to Mecca.
I thought of this second learning, about Islam's challenge to Western materialism, in the days after September 11th when President Bush and others declared, "our way of life is under attack" and "we must defend the American way of life." And, too, news commentators said that the World Trade Centers and the Pentagon, and whatever government building in Washington the fourth plane would have hit if not for the apparent heroism of its passengers, were "symbols of the American way of life."
As we learned in the days following the attacks that they were likely the work of Muslim extremists, I remembered what I had learned about the essential practices of Islam and how some of what are to me the worst aspects of American culture could be curbed by their practice. But, no way were these attacks what the Professor had in mind!
So, I've been wondering since, what are we meaning by this phrase "the American way of life"? Like our flag, evoking a wide range of emotions in Americans, this phrase is a symbol; like all symbols it points to something larger and more meaningful than the symbol itself. But, what?
Does it mean our freedoms? Our freedom of religion, of association, of the press, our freedom to dissent, to bear arms?
Does it mean our rights? Our right to equal protection under the law, to innocence `til proven guilty, our right to organize a labor union?
Does it mean our life-style? Our heated homes and indoor plumbing, the additional comforts many of us enjoy, American music and art and movies and books, our relative safety on the streets, free public schools and libraries, our democratic process (in which, however, more than 50% of those eligible don't even vote), our diverse population and our attempts at tolerance?
Does it mean our power? Our super-power status that allows the United States to dominate the discussions of the World Trade Organization or the World Bank, but not even sit at the table to discuss international problems such as global warming to which our so-called `way of life' has undoubtedly contributed?
Does it mean our income disparity, the widest among the world's top industrial nations? Or our poverty rate for children, at 25% the highest? (Gilbert, pp. 46-7).
Does it mean our collective over- consumption of the world's resources? That we Americans make up only 5% of the world's population, yet we consume one third of the planet's resources?
Does it mean our consumerist market economy, whose most unhealthy and useless products we have exported all over the globe? So that Coke signs have long been ubiquitous and McDonalds are increasingly everywhere. American cigarettes companies advertise heavily in developing countries, to make up for the decreasing number of Americans who smoke, which will create new foreign markets for American blood pressure medications and cancer treatments in the future. Nikes are promoted where children don't even wear shoes. And people everywhere, in the most unlikely places, see American television and movies.
(Somewhere not long ago I read about how "Ally McBeal" and "The Jeffersons" are avidly watched on battery-operated TV's by poor villagers in East Timor and I shuddered to realize they must think that's what we all are like!)
Our American "way of life" means a mix of all these things, and more, no doubt, and it shouldn't go without saying that its benefits are not equally enjoyed by all Americans.
We here may not be wealthy, and some of us may be struggling financially, but don't most of us truly feel grateful for many aspects of our way of life? Especially (if we stop to appreciate them) our freedoms and rights? On the other hand, how can we defend the extreme income disparity, the child poverty level, the disproportionate use of the world's resources, and the export of consumerism especially in developing countries? Our "Way of Life" is a mixed bag, isn't it?
To me, one of the great ironies is that I-as an American-am free to analyze, criticize, and organize to change what I cannot defend about our way of life.but, why would I?.since I enjoy the benefits of the American way of life, even the benefits of the aspects I cannot defend!!
Its easy to analyze and criticize, but is it in my self-interest to organize to change what makes my relatively comfortable lifestyle possible?
Or, is my self-interest really much broader than that? Are the health of the earth, progress toward world peace, and my own and others' spiritual well-being in my self-interest? Isn't the common interest in my self-interest?
If the gap between the rich and the poor, in this country and world-wide, is to be closed, won't the very rich have to accept having less?
Perhaps I have a limited imagination, but I just don't see how the earth's resources are sufficient for everyone in the world to have even a middle-class American lifestyle, never mind live in a mini-mansion with a three or more car garage, more than one bathroom per person, maid and lawn and snow shoveling services, luxury vacations, and whatever else is enjoyed by those at the top of the American income pyramid!
I don't suppose that many of us here today are at the very top of that pyramid. But as Unitarian Universalist theologian Thandeka says, "[Many] middle-class Americans are class-passing by pretending to be what they're not: well-off. They live in houses they can't afford, drive cars they don't own, and wear clothes they've bought on credit. Worse yet, toward the end of each pay period, many use their charge cards to buy food. My term for their condition is middle-class poverty. This late 20th century phenomenon has crippled the American soul," she proclaims. (in How Much Do We Deserve? By Richard Gilbert, p. 29)
Class-passing!
Like many Americans, I want to live a materially comfortable life. I suppose there is nothing wrong with wanting that, but there is something greedy about feeling entitled to it. Too, the pursuit of that particular kind of happiness often puts a person on an unhappy treadmill of material acquisition, on which "enough" is never enough and pretty soon you're class-passing. Advertising, peer pressure, and the American economy's demand for ever-expanding markets keep the treadmill turning.
Does the desire for more than is necessary come unconsciously from a spiritual emptiness? Do people hope that material acquisitions will feed our hunger for deeper meaning?
In our times, the biblical liturgy of abundance ought to be tempered, not with a myth of scarcity, but with an ethic of "enough."
Do you think the American Way of Life is adaptable? Can we live with living with just "enough?" If the wealthiest in the world's wealthiest nation lived with less, would there begin to be reason to trust that the earth's abundance is enough to sustain a better way of life for the world's population? Can we humans live within our collective means, within the limits of the earth's abundance? If we truly appreciate the abundance of the creation and of the good in life, will we reciprocate and renew it with our generosity toward others?
You remember the essential Islamic practice of zakat, giving alms to the needy? In the Qur'an, a group of believers asks, `How much should we pay?' and the reply is simply, `The surplus!' meaning you pay `whatever you do not need.'
What do we need? What is enough? How much do we deserve? Do we Americans deserve more than what is enough? Amen.