I'll walk this way: Journey with poverty (2)

Sometimes I hate poverty. I wonder why in the hell I would have ever believed such a thing would be good or holy or rewarding or whatever it’s supposed to be. Because it’s not. It’s sucks, it’s awful and stupid and I hate it. Which, if you talk to someone who is really poor, they will most likely tell you the same. Dorothy Day makes a great distinction between inflicted poverty or destitution, and voluntary poverty. That no one should be inflicted with poverty but we all should choose it. Peter Maurin, founder of the Catholic Worker Movement, has a quirky little way of putting it in his Easy Essay called “Case for Utopia”:

The world would be better off
if people tried to become better,
and people would become better
if they stopped trying to become better off.
For when everyone tries to become
Better off
Nobody is better off.
But when everyone tries to become better
Everybody is better off.
Everyone would be rich
If nobody tried to become richer,
And nobody would be poor
If everybody tried to be the poorest.
And everybody would be what he ought to be
If everybody tried to be
What he wants the other fellow to be.

This little poem is simple and true and idealistic. And really something I want to model my life after. But sometimes, even though I know it’s true and makes sense, I don’t like it. Because “trying to be the poorest” sometimes just looks like making all the things I take for granted in my life super complicated. Like, maybe i shouldn’t buy clothes from stores that aren’t second hand, maybe i shouldn’t buy clothes at all for awhile, maybe i should set a tight budget, maybe i should spend more money on others instead of myself, maybe I should find cheap housing even if it’s in a rough neighborhood, maybe I should make the effort to recycle, maybe i should work less so that i can have more time to help others, maybe i should grow my own food or dumpster dive to save money, maybe I can’t afford health care, maybe I should bike more even when I don’t feel like it to save gas, maybe I should use the library more, maybe I’ll never have an iPhone, maybe I don’t even need this computer, maybe I should never have a TV again, maybe I should apply for food stamps, maybe I should take shorter showers, maybe I shouldn’t buy packaged products, maybe i don’t need most of things i think I do and it goes on and on and on. And I will drive myself absolutely nuts contemplating every little thing I do.
But that’s not all folks! Just wait, then there’s the guilt trip! I get mad, sad, and frustrated because I can’t do things I would like to do because they don’t match up with my gosh darn ideology and then I take it out on other people by being all holier-than-thou to make myself feel better for choosing a life of suffering. Which, when I remember Jesus said that a life of suffering is what we Christians should look forward to, it sounds so nice and simple I would almost expect to find it on a Hallmark card. But no, the ins and outs of carrying my cross are not so pretty and poetic. Then I’m all, “what’s so bad about being a hypocrite again?”

Dorothy Day writes my thoughts perfectly; “Daily, hourly, to give up our own possessions and especially to subordinate our own impulses and wishes to others-these are hard, hard things; and I don’t think they ever get any easier. You can strip yourself, you can be stripped, but still you will reach out like an octopus to seek your own comfort, your untroubled time, your ease, your refreshment.”

But Spirit ever-so-gently reminds my octopus-self and short-term memory that this is a beautiful way life and totally worth it. I rest easy and read and re-read this meditation by Juniper, friend of Francis and Fool of God:

“If I am truly poor, then I am dependent on others for everything, and I feel useless and worthless, and I realize deep within that everything is a gift from the Father. Then in this attitude of complete dependence, I become useful again, for then I am empty of selfishness and I am free to be God’s instrument instead of my own. In poverty I begin to value everything rightly again. I see how little really matters, and I see that only that which glorifies God is of value.
I write these words in pain, Lady Poverty, for I have wept bitter tears because I was poor and had to beg from others, and I felt like a burden to people and to God…And I have grown weary of Christ’s words not to worry about the tomorrow. But In His grace I have surrendered to God’s sovereignty and providence, and it has made me free…
Lady Poverty, I love you. You, my Lady, take all the sting from being poor. In your embrace I am rich indeed, for I have someone to love. I have you. Perhaps, my Lady, that is why I keep submitting, surrendering my desire to control my life, my need to provide for the future. You have stolen my heart and made me happy, and your love makes up for all the pain that loving you involves…and we know it is all worthwhile because when we look into your eyes, we see Christ Himself.”

And I love my poverty again.