Formations Notes 6
To Live Simply
- Response to Formation Notes 6
Poverty is central to Franciscan spirituality. For us as members of the Third Order this is particularly challenging because we live secular lives.
Is poverty itself important or is it the qualities that it releases within us? What are the graces that Francis saw coming from a deep commitment to poverty?
As Francis said in the first story of the formation notes, ‘if we had possessions we should need arms for their defence. They are the source of quarrels and lawsuits, and are usually a great obstacle to the love of God and one’s neighbour.’
Possessions can be a source of much disharmony, externally and internally.
Arguments over possessions begin from the time we are children - whose toy is it really? Who gets to play with it? And I think the way children fight over things is not all that different from how we continue to fight over things as we grow into adulthood. We want something not because we necessarily feel any true desire for it, but because we see it bringing someone else some measure of satisfaction and so we place a value on that item. Think of children - if another child is playing with a toy, then that’s the toy they want, never mind the dozens of others. And once they get the toy, and the other child starts playing with a different one, then the first toy lies forgotten and this new toy becomes the object of desire - another item to be acquired. It seems like a person sees the enjoyment another derives from an item and falsely assumes that it is the item itself that confers happiness. Yet once the item is acquired, we find nothing has changed inside of us. So what went wrong?
Another example is a type of game where an item is desired and fought for. One game I used to play used those pool sticks that sink to the bottom of the water for the swimmers to dive to collect. The game I used to play involved all the sticks being thrown in, and then everyone trying to collect as many as they could, then, once they were all collected, we would each try to get the other person’s sticks from them while guarding our own jealously. The game was great fun, but as soon as the other person got bored with it and lost interest in the sticks, suddenly hoarding them wasn’t fun anymore. They lost their magic.
Once an item is no longer in demand, or appreciated by others, we soon realise that with acquiring the item we did not, in fact, acquire along with it happiness and respect. They were only illusions, which wear away. Rather than recognise that no amount of possessions will ever give us lasting peace, we recall instead the fleeing joy the possession brought, and so hope that perhaps we were just unlucky that our item wasn’t as powerful as we thought, but perhaps the next time, that feeling will stick. And so it continues, hoping that one day we will acquire something that will bring us the lasting love we seek.
The difficult part is that we may, in fact, feel happiness on acquiring an item. We may find other people impressed with our acquisition and may bask in their envy. We may find excitement comes with a new possession and, for a while at least, we feel fulfilled.
I remember as a child wanting a specific toy - an electronic doll called ‘Jenny Gymnast’. I remember telling my mother that if I got her I would never want anything else. And I meant it. I truly believed that if my desire for this one toy were satisfied, I would never desire anything again because I would feel complete. I truly believed that the strength of my desire would determine how long I would be satisfied for, and I wanted that toy so much that surely upon receiving it, to have all that desire satisfied, I would have decades of contentment. I was given the toy. It took me about twenty minutes of playing with it to realise that it hadn’t brought me the endless satisfaction I had anticipated. I was embarrassed by how wrong I had been, and so, perhaps because I thought mum’s feelings would be hurt if she discovered the toy she had so lovingly bought wasn’t as wonderful as she had believed (of course, I assumed mum believed me utterly when I had told her I’d never want anything again), or perhaps because of simple pride, or both, I continued to play with Jenny Gymnast. I would get her out even when I didn’t feel like it. I would feign my continued satisfaction.
These days (and probably in all other days, only I wasn’t here to see them, so I shall keep my comments to my own experience) there seems to be an overwhelming desire to accumulate more. Today’s standard seems to be that the more you have, the more successful you are - the more things, the bigger the house, the fancier the car, the larger the bank account. To some extent we are fuelled by what Alain De Botton calls ‘status anxiety’. We may feel driven to acquire new items not only because of the anticipated exhilaration - that addictive chemical reaction that occurs inside us when we get something new and shiny - but also to increase our prestige in society/among our peers. I think this has a lot to do with our desire for respect and, ultimately, for love - a dangerous error.
If other people believe we have everything, surely we are a step closer to actually having everything. But one more possession, one more upgrade, will never make our lives complete, will never gain for us lasting love, will never bring fulfilment. The joy gained by items is fleeting, hence their addictive power, and the struggle to portray our own value through worldly displays of success is never-ending, since our value as people is inestimable.
- Response to Formation Notes 6
Poverty is central to Franciscan spirituality. For us as members of the Third Order this is particularly challenging because we live secular lives.
Is poverty itself important or is it the qualities that it releases within us? What are the graces that Francis saw coming from a deep commitment to poverty?
As Francis said in the first story of the formation notes, ‘if we had possessions we should need arms for their defence. They are the source of quarrels and lawsuits, and are usually a great obstacle to the love of God and one’s neighbour.’
Possessions can be a source of much disharmony, externally and internally.
Arguments over possessions begin from the time we are children - whose toy is it really? Who gets to play with it? And I think the way children fight over things is not all that different from how we continue to fight over things as we grow into adulthood. We want something not because we necessarily feel any true desire for it, but because we see it bringing someone else some measure of satisfaction and so we place a value on that item. Think of children - if another child is playing with a toy, then that’s the toy they want, never mind the dozens of others. And once they get the toy, and the other child starts playing with a different one, then the first toy lies forgotten and this new toy becomes the object of desire - another item to be acquired. It seems like a person sees the enjoyment another derives from an item and falsely assumes that it is the item itself that confers happiness. Yet once the item is acquired, we find nothing has changed inside of us. So what went wrong?
Another example is a type of game where an item is desired and fought for. One game I used to play used those pool sticks that sink to the bottom of the water for the swimmers to dive to collect. The game I used to play involved all the sticks being thrown in, and then everyone trying to collect as many as they could, then, once they were all collected, we would each try to get the other person’s sticks from them while guarding our own jealously. The game was great fun, but as soon as the other person got bored with it and lost interest in the sticks, suddenly hoarding them wasn’t fun anymore. They lost their magic.
Once an item is no longer in demand, or appreciated by others, we soon realise that with acquiring the item we did not, in fact, acquire along with it happiness and respect. They were only illusions, which wear away. Rather than recognise that no amount of possessions will ever give us lasting peace, we recall instead the fleeing joy the possession brought, and so hope that perhaps we were just unlucky that our item wasn’t as powerful as we thought, but perhaps the next time, that feeling will stick. And so it continues, hoping that one day we will acquire something that will bring us the lasting love we seek.
The difficult part is that we may, in fact, feel happiness on acquiring an item. We may find other people impressed with our acquisition and may bask in their envy. We may find excitement comes with a new possession and, for a while at least, we feel fulfilled.
I remember as a child wanting a specific toy - an electronic doll called ‘Jenny Gymnast’. I remember telling my mother that if I got her I would never want anything else. And I meant it. I truly believed that if my desire for this one toy were satisfied, I would never desire anything again because I would feel complete. I truly believed that the strength of my desire would determine how long I would be satisfied for, and I wanted that toy so much that surely upon receiving it, to have all that desire satisfied, I would have decades of contentment. I was given the toy. It took me about twenty minutes of playing with it to realise that it hadn’t brought me the endless satisfaction I had anticipated. I was embarrassed by how wrong I had been, and so, perhaps because I thought mum’s feelings would be hurt if she discovered the toy she had so lovingly bought wasn’t as wonderful as she had believed (of course, I assumed mum believed me utterly when I had told her I’d never want anything again), or perhaps because of simple pride, or both, I continued to play with Jenny Gymnast. I would get her out even when I didn’t feel like it. I would feign my continued satisfaction.
These days (and probably in all other days, only I wasn’t here to see them, so I shall keep my comments to my own experience) there seems to be an overwhelming desire to accumulate more. Today’s standard seems to be that the more you have, the more successful you are - the more things, the bigger the house, the fancier the car, the larger the bank account. To some extent we are fuelled by what Alain De Botton calls ‘status anxiety’. We may feel driven to acquire new items not only because of the anticipated exhilaration - that addictive chemical reaction that occurs inside us when we get something new and shiny - but also to increase our prestige in society/among our peers. I think this has a lot to do with our desire for respect and, ultimately, for love - a dangerous error.
If other people believe we have everything, surely we are a step closer to actually having everything. But one more possession, one more upgrade, will never make our lives complete, will never gain for us lasting love, will never bring fulfilment. The joy gained by items is fleeting, hence their addictive power, and the struggle to portray our own value through worldly displays of success is never-ending, since our value as people is inestimable.