Generous Frugality
Megan LeBlanc
As a young adult raised in an age of rampant materialism and consumerism, I find it all too easy to turn a blind eye to the suffering that these twin demons engender. In fact, it took time for me to see these ‘isms’ as evil in the first place. After all aren’t I, aren’t we, entitled to adopt a standard of living that makes the most of what progress, technology, and innovation have to offer? Shouldn’t we grasp hold of the unlimited opportunity and freedom afforded through brilliant advances in science, medicine, and economics, without which we’d still be stuck in the Dark Ages?
And yet, it is hard to see this same opportunity and freedom in so many dark corners of the earth. There is no such hope reflected in the eyes of starving children in the Horn of Africa, penetrating the pall hanging over the war zones in Afghanistan and the Middle East, or illuminating the growing quagmire of selfishness and immorality. In this light, it is hard for me to justify any progress that leaves suffering in its wake, or to feel entitled to a higher standard of living at the expense of other people’s daily bread.
“A preoccupation with or stress upon material rather than intellectual or spiritual values” is how my Merriam-Webster defines materialism. Consumerism: “a preoccupation with and an inclination toward the buying of consumer goods”. Both seem apt snapshots of the average Western lifestyle, where the dictates of wealth and prestige are often stronger than the proddings of the conscience, where technology such as Facebook has lured an entire generation into the realm of cyber-fantasy and its attendant pitfalls, and where a culture of hedonism has spawned problems like endemic obesity.
At the same time, the bedrock of society – the family as God ordained it, beginning with marriage of one man and one woman for life – is crumbling. Children are suffering as increasing numbers are denied the stability of a wholesome, loving family. Statistics for divorce, suicide, and crime are rising at an alarming rate.
At the other end of the spectrum, a world away from the well-provisioned life I lead, millions scavenge in refuse heaps for their sustenance, or are forced into the shame of beggary and prostitution to ensure their survival.
Jesus had the greatest compassion for the “least of these”. What does this mean to me? If I want to follow in Christ’s footsteps, what sacrifice is demanded of me?
I don’t have pat answers for these questions, but I do think they’re connected to small, conscious decisions, to the choices I make. I can, for instance, decide to skip a meal or two each week, as a prayer for the world’s poor (and donate the money I would have spent on food to charity). I can ask myself if my cravings for treats or things stem from my needs, or just my wants – and opt to downplay my wants. I can simply think twice about how I use the resources God provides.
Making sacrifices (however small) may seem futile, extreme, or even frightening in the midst of today’s cult of materialism/consumerism. But ultimately, I know I have only one life to live, and that it is useless to bemoan the ills of society if I myself do not live a life consecrated for God’s service – if I am not willing to light a candle in the darkness. The apostle Paul’s words in 2 Corinthians 8:13-15 are an encouragement in this:
Our desire is not that others might be relieved while you are hard pressed, but that there might be equality. At the present time your plenty will supply what they need, so that in turn their plenty will supply what you need. The goal is equality, as it is written: “The one who gathered much did not have too much, and the one who gathered little did not have too little.”
There is another angle to this, too: If, as many predict, the disintegration of the global economy means days of scarcity are in store for those of us accustomed to abundance, the future will not find us unprepared. We will already be conditioned to make do, to go without, and – most importantly – to see meeting other’s needs as a far higher priority than tending to our own. In other words, we will know how to care.
I know voluntary poverty or frugality can easily morph into stinginess. History (and the bible) provide plenty of case studies. My prayer, therefore, is to be emboldened by a generous frugality, to give unstintingly of my time, energy, and love in service of my fellow brothers and sisters, everywhere.
If I speak in the tongues of men or of angels, but do not have love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal. If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have a faith that can move mountains, but do not have love, I am nothing. If I give all I possess to the poor and give over my body to be burned, but do not have love, I gain nothing. (1 Corinthians 13:1-3)
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Megan LeBlanc is a member of the Bruderhof communities. To respond to this article, This e-mail address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it. .