Two Sermons

In my last post, I spoke about the contrasting stories of Scarcity and Abundance. I want to move now from the objective observation of these stories to the critical evaluation of them. As I have always told my students, just because we have to recognize that we all come to the table with a worldview does not mean that all worldviews are equally valid or useful. Ideas and stories have consequences, and sometimes these stories can bring about very negative outcomes.

I present the evaluation of these stories in the form of two sermons that I heard preached on Sunday mornings. These sermons were preached by two different ministers, about a year apart. They were given in two different churches, although both churches are members of the same denomination – a denomination that would be considered part of the “liberal mainline” in context of American Christianity. I use these two sermons to illustrate how the stories of Scarcity and Abundance can be manifest even within the same religious tradition. The theology and practical affects, however, are very different.

The first sermon was preached shortly after the devastating Paris terror attacks of 2015. The minister’s aim was to focus on the sovereignty of God in a turbulent time. He spoke of the Battle of Tours and Charles Martel, and of Jan Sobieski at the Gates of Vienna. The images were ones of war, a clash of civilizations against the armies of evil. The victory of Christendom was presented as proof of God’s favor, which subsequently allowed Western civilization to flourish instead of regressing into the darkness of false religion represented by the Muslim hordes.  

The parallel was drawn between the battles of the past and the events of the day. The enemy was at the gates again, threatening to destroy our civilization. But we need not fear, because God’s intention is the same today as it was then – to protect his chosen ones, the ones chosen to bear his message to the world. The truth would prevail, as it always had in the past.

The second sermon I heard preached just a few Sundays ago. The minister also addressed a congregation nervous and uncertain about the future, albeit due to different circumstances. His exhortations, however, were quite different. He spoke of the “impractical” nature of Jesus’ commands in the gospels, to love God and neighbor with a perfection that exceeds that of the scribes and Pharisees. Despite the seeming absurdity of the task, he spoke of the grace given to each of us to live such a life in accordance with our faith. This was a talk of victory as well, but victory of a different sort – victory over our own resignations in following Jesus’ example, rather than over external enemies.

Missing from this sermon was the clear, binary divide between truth and falsehood described in the first sermon. Jesus’ teaching was presented as a way of life to emulate, not a pronouncement of moral absolutism. He described truth as more of a destination than a starting point.

To me these two contrasting sermons demonstrate the practical differences between the stories of Scarcity and Abundance quite clearly. They also point to the outcomes of holding to those stories and letting them shape our actions.

In the Scarcity story, the big idea is one of strict certainty, of faith in the absolute. Things are completely good or completely evil, and we must choose a side or be swept aside into the ashbin of history. The truth is clear, and the idea itself is enough to die and to kill for. This whole approach is sanctioned, of course, by God himself, who wills it to be so. We either choose to be on God’s side, and thus are privileged to be able to be used as instruments for the glorious fulfillment of his plan, or otherwise we choose to be enemies and will deservedly feel the full force off his wrath as we are wiped out of existence.

The gospel of the Abundance story, by contrast, offers no such moral certainty. It is not an ethical program but instead a path that is to be followed, with very little vision of where exactly the path may lead. Any attempts to codify this path into some sort of law or set of precepts is always met with frustration. A reliance on grace is necessary for all parties involved, but the key belief is that there exists in the universe a sufficient grace to make the journey possible. And if we accept this grace for ourselves, we must certainly be willing to extend it to others.

If the specific application of the Scarcity story in the first sermon sounds familiar, it is because it has gained quite a bit of publicity recently. The narrative of the clash of civilizations is one of the guiding principles of the new presidential administration in the U.S. It is a key point in the worldview of Steve Bannon, one of the closest advisors to the President and likely a primary architect of many of the administration’s policy decisions. The same story has, in similar forms, been at the heart of authoritarian regimes in the past centuries. One of the chilling consequences of this story is the need to find a scapegoat, a common enemy that can be identified with the forces of evil that need to be extinguished. It’s an old story and one only need to study a bit of history to see how it generally plays out.

The need to define ideas and people along the binary categories of good and evil can have dangerous consequences. We will almost always see ourselves as good, and those outside of our tribe or nation as evil. Being in possession of the “truth” can excuse any number of atrocities. Our own national history was shaped by a doctrine of Manifest Destiny that took this story as a starting point.

The Abundance story hasn’t gotten as much of an opportunity to be tested over the course of human history. When it has, it is usually on a smaller scale, in counter-cultural communities that oppose the dominant ideology of scarcity and isolation. It has animated powerful non-violent movements in history, such as the American Civil Rights movement.  It provides the theological backbone of Liberation Theology. I see signs of it now in the teaching of Pope Francis, who took his name from a saint that lived this story at a great personal cost. It is no surprise, then, that modern-day proponents of the Scarcity story take exception to Francis’ words and seek to discredit him in the name of “tradition.”

We may be again facing a moment in our history where the adequacy of our stories will be put to the test. Both provide answers – but which answers will stand? Can we continue to exist in a zero-sum world where gains can only come at the expense of the Other? Or does the arc of the universe truly bend toward justice, and provide us all with the grace needed to exist in harmony with each other and with our world?

Abundance and Scarcity

Our human existence is marked by stories. Stories are the way that we make sense of the world around us. They frame our discussions, but they also frame the way that we experience the bare facts of existence. All reality that we experience takes place in the context of the stories that we tell ourselves, and they are essential to our human nature. Without them, we would have no idea how to comprehend the events that make up our lives and the lives of those around us.

These stories come from a variety of sources: our culture, our families, religious beliefs, and even our own personal conclusions. When I teach students about the concept of “worldview”, it is really these stories that I am referring to. Of course, these stories can change over time as we find evidence that might contract a long-held belief. Still, as these larger stories form the framework for our thought processes, it can be very difficult to challenge the overriding elements of the story that we take for granted.

What we are seeing now in our country and our world is, in my view, a grand conflict between competing stories. It is a somewhat gross simplification for me to suggest that there are only two opposing stories right now, but for the sake of discussion I will focus on just two. Let’s call them the story of Abundance and the story of Scarcity.

The story of Abundance begins with the fundamental belief that the universe provides the sufficient means for life – and not just mere existence, but “abundant” life. This means that the raw materials for all living things to exist harmoniously and to live relatively well are provided by nature itself. This story does not require nor preclude any sort of religious belief – a Christian, an animist, or an atheist could all believe this story with equal consistency. The point is that the means for living well are there, not how they got there or who or what perpetuates them.

The definition of living “well” is, of course, subjective, but in the Abundance story it is generally agreed that living well involves taking no more out of the system of resources than is required for a fully realized existence. Boundaries are necessitated by the realities of the delicate balance required to sustain this optimal life. If one group of beings starts taking more than their share, it will cause the entire system to suffer, but the system is self-correcting in that the takers will eventually feel the consequences of their actions. In other words, the greedy animal soon finds himself starving when he can’t control his appetite. Whether this is enforced by divine providence, karma, or just the laws of nature doesn’t matter as much as the recognition that it will happen.

In the story of Abundance things have intrinsic value. They are all equally valuable merely by the fact of their existence, and also because the existence of all things is interconnected. Power is largely an illusory concept because the real power lies in nature, the universe, or in some form of divinity. Therefore power is best used as a tool to work with the greater forces of nature, not to subdue or contain them in some concept of certainty. An archetypal person for the Abundance story might the Farmer, who works with and respects the land, and seeks to know it without dominating or controlling it while at the same time benefiting from it.  

Those whose realities are formed by the story of Abundance recognize that the present world does not operate according to this paradigm. Therefore, they work, as they can, to restore the essential balance as much as possible, by whatever actions they can. They do this because they have the faith that the balance does exist, and can be restored even when it seems unlikely. Martin Luther King Jr’s quote referring to “the arc of the moral universe” that “bends toward justice” is an example of the Abundance story being conceptualized and articulated.

In the story of Scarcity, the benevolent nature of the universe is called into question. Instead of sufficiency, this story tells of a lack of resources. Since resources are inherently limited, the questions of survival and of flourishing are matters of competition – competition within the system with other beings, and competition with the system itself.

Like the story of Abundance, the story of Scarcity does not belong solely to the religious or non-religious. There are plenty of belief systems on all sides of the spiritual spectrum that hold to some version of this story. The bottom line is that the universe is essentially a hostile place to life, and in order to continue surviving, living things must to some extent take matters into their own hands. This is the largely pessimistic counterpoint to the story of Abundance.

Boundaries are also necessary according to this story, but primarily for protection against the forces that seek to diminish life. These elements of chaos are seen as being at war with life, and thus need to be held back, subjugated, or eradicated entirely. There is a strong dualism at work in this story – the binary opposition between dark and light, good and evil, chaos and control. Things are identified based upon which side of the dichotomy they fall.

Value and power both play important roles in the story of Scarcity. Value is based primarily on utility, whether in the form of expertise, strength, economic value, or other forms. Things increase in value as utility increases, and more valuable things are held in higher esteem. Power is closely connected to this, because power is necessary to retain value, lest it be taken away by others. Power is also necessary to control the unpredictable elements of both human and wild nature. Knowledge adds to power by increasing certainty, which allows for greater means of control. The archetypal person is the industrialist who uses knowledge (and its resultant product, technology) to bring will to power.

As I said before, this is a very simplistic categorization of worldviews. However, I would risk to say that some version of either of these two stories underpins the thinking of many people in our modern world. It is because of the deep differences in these stories that two people can experience the same events, and yet interpret them so differently. How could they not, when the ends lead to such different conclusions? It is from these differences that we see the rifts in our society, which have become that much more clearly defined in a very short period of time.

How can we stand on common ground, when our stories give us radically different meanings to the very ground itself? Do we resort to tribalism? Do we resign to nihilism, giving up on the hope of ever finding a solution? At this point I’m not sure, but I do know that conversation is required. But if there is to be any conversation, it begins with identifying and owning our stories.