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During my two years as a Mormon missionary in Brazil, everything I owned could be crammed into two wheeled suitcases. In fairness, I lived in furnished (if such spartan arrangements can be so called) quarters and all I was responsible for was my clothes and the few sundry clothes and possessions that I could cram in a bus and haul across the Planalto. Of course there was plenty of “stuff” at home, so I rarely thought anything about it, until October of 2003. At that time my family lived in the little mountain town in California and were forced to flee as a massive wildfire threatened to blot our home, and those of 8,500 other people from the face of the earth. While our home and the town survived, (thanks in large part to the heroic and incredible sacrifices of local firefighters as well as a fortuitous shift in winds and weather) I had to come to grips for a moment that all I owned in the world were the items which I could cram in that well-traveled luggage. (Which, after 2o months in the field were mostly worn and battered.)
And yet, as I sat on a curb that day considering my possibly sudden and total ruin, I couldn’t really complain. My family was safe, I had my health, and we had relatives who would take us in and give us shelter until we could find some of our own. The loss of a lifetime accumulation of things (albeit a short one) was sad, but not devastating. In light of such experiences, I find Anna Quindlen’s most recent editorial for Newsweek quite poignant. Noting the consumption binge which largely accompanied loose credit during the last decade or so, she asks, “why did we need all this stuff?”
The answer of course is “we didn’t.” We swallowed the hype, the ads and the lies fed to us by the media, our peers and our own need for affirmation that we thought possessions would give us. And yet, the big-screen TV, the closet full of shoes and the Garage full of knick-nacs and disgarded toys have failed to make us happy. Instead they fill our homes, are shoved in storage units and collect dust, as we lead the industrialized world in personal dis-contentedness and use of anti-depressants.
It’s just stuff. It will not comfort you when you are sad, it will not return your adoration, it cannot replace the warmth of a human touch, or the voice of a friend. As much as I value my prized possessions, none of them give me the same joy that I get from playing with my daughter or seeing my wife smile. Now, they also, as any loved one can, grant me considerable anguish and frustration in their season, but my stuff causes such feelings too, without the pleasant fulfillment which my loved ones grant. As much as this is a season in which we look forward to the giving of gifts, the greatest gift is the love and companionship of our fellow humans. May we remember this, and seek to share not only things, but our human warmth as well.
Merry Christmas
Happy Haunakkah
Happy Kwanzaa
Blessed Solstice
or
Happy Holidays
And (Hopefully) a Happy New Year
Sidney Carton
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