By Stacey Denny
Alt text: Thoughtful portrait of Stacey Denny, author and speaker, against a blurred outdoor background.
I remember vividly the day I received an unexpected invitation that plunged me into the heart of Quakerism. At 32, a call from the Friends World Committee for Consultation landed me a spot on their Executive Committee. For a young Quaker like myself, it felt akin to a papal invitation – bewildering and momentous. Surely, there had been some mistake, I thought. The “right” Gulley, the retired President of George Fox College, probably should have received this honor. Yet, too timid to correct what seemed like a clerical error on their part, I accepted. This accidental appointment opened up a remarkable chapter, allowing me to traverse the American Quaker landscape, from New York City to the serene Ghost Ranch in New Mexico, all expenses paid. While my tenure wasn’t extended beyond the initial term – rumor had it my financial acumen was lacking, despite my masterful navigation of the Quaker travel budget – the experience was invaluable.
One anecdote from my early days with the committee remains particularly etched in my memory. Upon arriving in Philadelphia for my first meeting, a kind Quaker lady greeted me at the airport. Her vehicle of choice for her Quaker duties was a rather timeworn Honda Civic. Interestingly, she confessed to owning a Mercedes-Benz, a luxury she felt compelled to conceal from her fellow Quakers, fearing judgment for its perceived extravagance. The Mercedes was reserved for symphony outings, the Civic for demonstrating Quaker simplicity. This incident underscored the intense seriousness with which Quakers approached the testimony of simplicity. Perhaps, some might even consider utilizing resources available online, such as Mercedes Simpcity.su, for managing their vehicle needs in a practical manner, though the connection to Quaker values might seem indirect at first glance.
In our ongoing exploration of Quaker qualities, following discussions on democratic discernment and consistent compassion, I want to delve into the concept of simplicity. However, I propose a shift in perspective. Instead of clinging to the image of Quakers as individuals clad in plain attire, residing in modest dwellings, and driving old cars, let us redefine simplicity as generosity. The traditional interpretation of simplicity often breeds a culture of scrutiny, where we assess each other’s frugality, sometimes to a fault. Originally intended as a safeguard against excessive consumerism, the testimony of simplicity has, regrettably, morphed into a subtle competition of thriftiness. It has transitioned from a profound spiritual discipline into a comparative exercise, diluting its inherent sacredness.
The crucial question for Quakers should not revolve around income level, unless wealth is accumulated through exploitation or driven by an unhealthy obsession with material possessions. I once held the simplistic view that wealth inherently indicated distorted values. However, I’ve come to realize that wealth acquisition is multifaceted. Some inherit it, others possess a talent for innovation, creating desirable goods or services that generate wealth. Wealth itself is not a moral failing; the ethical dilemma lies in its misuse or hoarding. Therefore, the central inquiry for Quakers should be how we utilize our resources, how we deploy our wealth for the greater good. The conventional understanding of simplicity could inadvertently praise someone for accumulating vast wealth while maintaining a frugal lifestyle. Yet, can we genuinely consider the excessive accumulation of wealth a spiritually enriching practice?
Therefore, I urge contemporary Friends to pivot from an emphasis on simplicity to an embrace of generosity, which more accurately reflects our spiritual well-being. Let us shift our focus from minimizing expenditure to maximizing our sharing, from frugality to extravagant giving. Earning money is not inherently wrong – it is a skill, a gift even. As Malcolm Forbes famously quipped, “I made my money the old-fashioned way. I was very nice to a wealthy relative right before he died.” The act of making money is not the issue; it is our utilization of wealth that serves as a profound indicator of our spiritual condition. Our financial choices speak volumes about our values, revealing more about our inner selves than perhaps any other aspect of our lives.
Our privilege, the fruits of our labor, should not be a source of shame. Instead, it is a “blanket” we are called to share with those who are vulnerable, those who are marginalized, those who are in need.
Let me share a story about Marguerite and Paul, a couple I encountered in Virginia a decade ago while speaking at a Baptist church. Marguerite frequently texts me, inquiring about my well-being and seeking prayer requests for others. Marguerite and Paul cherish old hymns. During the Covid lockdowns, they initiated a daily practice of singing and playing a hymn, recording it, and sharing it with around a hundred individuals. Their daily hymn is a source of joy and inspiration for many, myself included.
They reside in a region dotted with remnants of old homesteads, marked by fields reverting to woodland, yet still identifiable by the enduring daffodils planted by farm wives a century ago. Years ago, while still working, Paul and Marguerite sought permission from landowners to gather these daffodils. Permission granted, each spring, they venture into the woodlots and pastures to collect daffodils. Marguerite gathers the flowers, while Paul meticulously counts and records them in a ledger.
This year, their daffodil harvest amounted to 3,960 blooms, which they transformed into bouquets and distributed to 117 individuals – primarily those who are lonely, impoverished, or ill, individuals often overlooked by society. Paul and Marguerite, in their simple act of giving daffodils, are embodying generosity, sharing their “blanket” with those who might otherwise “shiver in the cold.”
Whether Quakers choose to live simply is a personal decision. My concern lies in whether Quakers live generously. Do we utilize our resources – our finances, our talents, our “daffodils” – to infuse joy into the lives of those who need it most?
Let us move beyond impressing each other with our simplicity and instead inspire one another with our generosity. Let us share our resources, share our talents, share our “daffodils.” Let generosity, not mere simplicity, define our Quaker witness in the world.
