-- Emerson
Reading: by Charles J. Sykes from A Nation of Moochers – America’s Addiction to Getting Something for Nothing (p. 9)
Is America becoming a country where the irresponsible and grasping increasingly live off of those who work, save, invest, and otherwise play by the rules? Have we reached the tipping point where more Americans are relying on the efforts of others rather than their own?
Are we becoming a nation of moochers?
We are very close to that point if we have not already crossed the line. From the corporate bailouts on Wall Street to the declining stigmas on default and dependency, the new moocher culture cuts across lines of class, race, and private and public sectors. Members of the middle class are increasingly as likely to become moochers as the poor; CEOs are as likely to belly up to the trough as the underprivileged; and the BlackBerry has emerged as a more effective tool for mooching than a tin cup. In the Great Bailout, an expensively educated, richly compensated, elaborately insulated, politically powerful, and well-connected elite toyed with the nation’s wealth and bailed themselves out at the expense of millions of waitresses, steamfitters, shopkeepers, schoolteachers, farmers, retirees – and their children and grandchildren – in what may turn out to be the greatest intergenerational transfer of wealth in history.
Reading: by Stephen Asma from Why I am a Buddhist – No-Nonsense Buddhism with Red Meat and Whiskey (p. 141)
Whatever it is you happen to do, whether it is giving haircuts or running a country, you have to decide whether you will do it well or not. Many times, when I was working lame jobs for companies I didn’t care about, I’d slowly slouch toward idleness and lethargy. The company doesn’t know I exist, I’m utterly expendable, my labor goes unnoticed, I can’t even afford the product I’m working on, I don’t respect the management, and so on. Most of us have had this experience, and it transforms work into unqualified drudgery.
Buddhism, however, asks us to bracket out all those considerations – some of which may be entirely true – and asks us instead to focus on the task at hand, not matter how trivial it seems. If mindfulness can transform the simple act of sitting and breathing into an art form that nourishes the mind and the body, then imagine what it can do with work….
Reading: by Wendell Berry a poem entitled “The Real Work”
It may be that when we no longer know what to do
we have come to our real work,
and that when we no longer know which way to go
we have come to our real journey.
The mind that is not baffled is not employed.
The impeded stream is the one that sings.
Musical Interlude: The Grasshopper and the Ant by Mabel Wood Hill
In a field one summer's day a Grasshopper chirped and hopped and chirped to his heart's content he was singing and hopping. An Ant came plodding by, dragging a grain of corn; Toiling, moiling, toiling, moiling, on to his nest. "Come with me, come chat with me," the Grasshopper sang and chirped and hopped, "Oh come with me 'stead of toiling and moiling!" But the Ant said "I'm laying up food for the winter that is coming. So should you, so should you, so should you!" When winter came the Ant had food, but the Grasshopper found himself dying.
Wealth Without Work
A Sermon Delivered on September 2, 2012
By
The Rev. Axel H. Gehrmann
This summer I had the opportunity to engage in some real work, climbing ladders and swinging hammers. I joined a few dozen other church folks, who were also lending a hand. We were all participants in a “build” organized by Habitat for Humanity, at which we help local families in economic need build their own home.
I don’t have a lot of experience in hands-on home maintenance. Changing light bulbs and very occasionally running a vacuum cleaner is about the extent of my expertise. So it was with some trepidation, that I approached the building site that Saturday morning, listening carefully to the instructions for the day. I decided to join a group tasked with putting up vinyl siding on the north side of the new house. With some guidance, and a lot of trial and error, I figured out how to measure and cut, align and affix the panels. It was scary and strenuous work for me, but, amazingly, I was able to get through the day without doing serious harm to myself or others with the power saw. And perhaps even more amazingly, despite my aching limbs and sunburned skin, I felt really good when our workday drew to a close. The progress we had made on the house was clearly visible, and working together with a bunch of friends was a lot of fun.
Later in the summer, I got a postcard in the mail informing me that the house had been completed. Now, whenever I drive past 508 East Beardsley Avenue in Champaign, I will look at that house with deep satisfaction and think: “we built that.”
Habitat for Humanity does a great job bringing together community members to join in hands-on volunteer service. Its genius is that it links important tangible work with the strengthening of community bonds. This powerful experience is rekindled whenever we stop and remind ourselves, we built that.
* * *
Now, Habitat for Humanity is not the only group that understands the power of building something together. Last week at the Republican National Convention, the crux of the GOP’s message was captured in the pithy slogan: “We Built That.” The speakers on stage tried to point to the rewards of hard work, and revive the vision of a country in which discipline, independence, and self-reliance allow any hard-working citizen to achieve the American dream of prosperity and freedom. The vision of a country in which anyone, who is willing to work hard, can find a job and support a family.
It is a simple and compelling message that has been told in many different ways. Our children are taught early, in stories like “The Three Little Pigs,” that hard work pays off. Pigs that play all day build flimsy houses that are easily blow down by hungry wolves. Hard working pigs build brick houses that protect us from threat and storm. And when storm and danger have passed, and the house is still standing, the hard working people will point to their houses with justified pride and say, “we built that.”
Like the story of the hard-working ant in Aesop’s fable, who was toiling and moiling day in and day out, and the grasshopper who spent his summer hopping and chirping instead of working – the moral of the story is: hard work pays off. When winter comes, the ant has food, and the grasshopper starves.
Tit for tat. You reap what you sow. If you work you will be rewarded. If you don’t – well – that’s on you. This ancient message strikes a deep moral chord. It touches our human desire to be treated fairy, our deep human demand for justice.
This message can also touch into the righteous anger of anyone who has experienced injustice, anyone who has been treated unfairly, anyone who has worked hard, but has been denied the rewards of their hard work.
Imagine the two lazy pigs, whose houses of sticks and straw had been blown to smithereens, and who found safety within the walls of their friend’s brick house. Imagine them, once the wolf was gone and the dust had settled. Imagine them pointing to the house and saying to their hard working friend: “you didn’t build that.” -- Any child would know, those two lazy pigs are wrong.
“We Built That” is the slogan painted in giant letters in the Republican convention arena, and it is a response to something President Obama said at a talk in Roanoke, Virginia on July 13. Obama said, “If you’ve got a business – you didn’t build that. Somebody else made that happen.”
A comment like that is sure to rankle anyone who has worked hard to build a business. It is sure to touch a nerve for anyone who has ever worked hard, but didn’t receive a just reward for their labor – anyone passed over for promotion, anyone laid off through no fault of their own, anyone who has felt unappreciated or underpaid.
In these tough economic times, millions of Americans are struggling to make ends meet. Millions are working hard – whether in paid or unpaid labor, whether on the job, or searching for a job - but they are not receiving the rewards they deserve. How can we make sense of this?
* * *
Charles Sykes believes the root of the problem lies in the fact that we are becoming a nation of moochers. Millions of us are working hard, and the reason we are nevertheless struggling, is that others are mooching off of us. Others are reaping the rewards of our hard work. Others are profiting from our productivity.
Who are these moochers, who live off our work and savings? Who are these people, who “milk the system” while we play by the rules?
Starting out in his book, he says, “our moocher culture cuts across lines of class, race, and private and public sectors.” He sees moochers among recipients of both welfare and corporate bailouts, both among the powerful and the underprivileged.
I can see some wisdom in his analysis. And I confess, early on I had a hard time seeing where on the political spectrum the author was trying to make his mark. Who does he identify as the major perpetrators of moocherism? The victims are the little people: steamfitters, shopkeepers, schoolteachers, farmers, retirees – and their children and grandchildren. But who are the perpetrators? Are they the corporate CEOs, or the welfare recipients? Are they Wall Street executives or immigrants, documented and otherwise? Are they the recipients of bailouts and subsidies or the finders of tax loopholes?
To save you the trouble of reading the book, let me tell you: in the end, the biggest villain in our moocher culture, according to Charles Sykes, is the government. If only the government would get out of the way, we all would be better off.
* * *
“We built that,” is a rousing slogan that touches the heart. But it is not as simple as it sounds. For one thing, the presidential statement that provoked it was not quite as straightforward as the brief clip on Fox News put it.
The point Obama was making in his words just leading up to “you didn’t build that,” was that “if you were successful, somebody along the line gave you some help.” And following up, he said, “when we succeed, we succeed because of our individual initiative, but also because we do things together.” He was echoing John Donne’s sentiment that no one is an island.
* * *
The political theater that is gearing up this election season would have us believe that America is a deeply divided country, with two mutually incompatible political factions: Democratic and Republican, left and right. And never the twain shall meet.
But the truth is that we share much in common. The vast majority of Americans aspire to create a country in which we can work together to build a common good. The vast majority of Americans believe in fairness, in personal responsibility, and in the value of community bonds.
Wealth without work is an idea that rubs most of us the wrong way. Wealth without work, the title of this morning’s sermon, some of you may know, is one of seven social sins Mahatma Gandhi listed in an article back in 1925. The other social sins are: Politics without principles, pleasure without conscience, knowledge without character, commerce without morality, science without humanity, and worship without sacrifice.
In his efforts to free India from British rule, Gandhi engaged in grassroots organization and community building. In 1925 this involved founding the All-India Spinners’ Association. Its mission was to move toward economic independence, by empowering India’s people to spin their own cloth for their clothing. Every individual was encouraged to engage in this very concrete, traditional work. Gandhi himself did likewise throughout his life. He saw that the simple work of spinning had many levels of meaning. It was a symbolic act that reminded individuals of their power and responsibility, it fostered a sense of self-respect and self-reliance, as well as solidarity with other community members. And very tangibly it allowed Indian people to assert their independence of foreign-made cloth, imported by the British.
* * *
Any work we do has many levels of meaning. And that is why any work matters. Any work we do deserves attention and respect. And whatever we do, the Buddhist tells us, whether giving haircuts or running a country, we need to decide whether we will do it well or not.
If we see our jobs as lame and irrelevant, if we consider ourselves utterly expendable, and we feel our labor goes unnoticed, we will slouch towards idleness and lethargy. Our work will be transformed into unqualified drudgery.
But if we focus on the task at hand, even work that seems trivial can become an art form that nourishes body and mind. When we look deeply, we see that our every act has many, many levels of meaning, and even our simplest tasks can transform us.
* * *
I believe most Americans - both those on the left and on the right – agree our work matters, and that our work touches upon many powerful levels of meaning. I believe most Americans agree mooching is a problem. Though we may disagree on who, exactly, is doing most of the mooching. And so we may disagree on how best to solve the problem. But problems like these are best solved not in pitched political battles, but in thoughtful, respectful, and attentive examination and exchange.
“We built that” is a slogan either side of the political spectrum could embrace. The most important of the three words is “we.” Not “I,” not “they,” but “we.” We built that together.
Maybe more important than anything we build, whether we build houses or cars or computers or schools, is that we remember that we built it together.
Choosing to work together, may involve doing things we have never done before, it may involve speaking with people we have never met before. It may mean working up to the point where we don’t know what to do next.
And maybe when we no longer know what to do, we have come to our real work. And maybe when we no longer know which way to go, we have come to our real journey.
May we find the courage and the faith
To find our real work
And to begin our real journey
Together.
Amen.
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