Subsistence

Keep it Light. Keep it Moving.

Me on the AT with a very heavy backpack, 2019

Dear Friend,

I recently re-listened to a conversation with Barbara Brown Taylor and Krista Tippett during an On Being episode called, This Hunger for Holiness. I listened again because I remembered that the conversation had stirred something in me when I first heard it earlier this year. 

And it stirred something in me this time, too. But I don’t think it was the same thing that stirred me the first time. Brown introduced the term subsistence spirituality. In the course of the discussion, Tippett asked Brown to explain what she meant. Brown responded:

“...I don’t know, lean rations. I think another saying in the scriptures I love that never gets enough play is when Jesus blesses the poor in spirit. And yet I’ve never heard a sermon encouraging me to take on more spiritual poverty. But I think there’s something in this subsistence spirituality idea about what it means to be poor in spirit. And I’m not even sure what that means …

… All I can figure is that in whatever congregation I am imagining, or he imagined, there were some spiritual fat cats hanging around, kind of flaunting their goods. And that there were some people sitting a few rows behind them who said, “I am so inadequate. I am such a loser.” And there was some kind of bread being offered them, to not compare themselves to those who seemed rich in spirit. That was Matthew’s gospel, not Luke’s. So, I’m not sure he was thinking about money at that point. But there certainly is — I know a lot of people who believe they’re spiritually rich, and God bless them — but I really prefer the company of those poor in spirit.”

---

This whole conversation reminded me of something you often hear on the trail  (and I know I must be repeating myself.)

You pack your fears.

What does that mean? It means if I am afraid of thirst, I carry two liters of bottled water in addition to the four-liter hydration system in the back of my pack and extra purification tablets and extra filters. Afraid of hunger? I pack nine Mountain House meals for every two days I expect to be on the trail, and extra trail mix and energy bars.  Afraid of getting lost or injured? I  purchase an emergency satellite beacon, and I pay the annual subscription fee in advance.  Hate the cold? I pack a puffy and an extra puffy, and a down quilt.

You get the idea. The more I fear, the heavier my pack.

---

I am wondering this morning about my spiritual fears, and what I carry to address them. My sense is that my biggest fear is that I might get this whole spiritual thing wrong, as if it all depended on me, so I have been loading my pack with institutions, dogmas, theories and creeds - even creeds that are not my own - to protect me, kinda like spiritual rabbits’ feet. 

For instance, do you know how many different atonement theories I lug around? Seven! I now carry seven atonement theories in my pack. (Speaking of a spiritual fat cat. Right?)

A friend talks about how each of these theories reveals something beautiful about the character of God, and I think that’s probably true. But that is not why I carry them around. I carry each of them because I’m terrified that I’m going to fail the after-life theology test if I haven’t mastered the right theory, so I have to master all of them. Somehow, I’ve conflated spiritual knowledge with spiritual wealth - and a very, very heavy pack.

A friend recently reminded me, we are not saved by theories or institutions or dogmas or even creeds. We are saved by the Loving Grace of God. Full stop.

These days, I’m daring to wonder if the judgment is eternally daily and if it might truly be this simple: I imagine waking each morning and finding a note on the floor of my tent, next to my sleeping bag, with a single handwritten yes/no question - the same yes/no question each day: 

Do you trust me enough to empty your pack, and follow me?

Circle one: Yes / No

---

I wonder if this might be what Jesus meant by poor in spirit: An empty backpack, which, of course requires not only trust, but reckless trust. Or if this was what he was talking about when when he said, 

Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.

---

For me, even though it’s a simple question, it’s far from easy. I always want to slip my favorite rabbit’s foot into my pocket. Circling yes with honesty and integrity often always takes more trust than I can muster on my own.

It has to be grace.

Oremus,

Ć

---

Dear Father,

At this moment, yes.

And I hope I will circle yes, tomorrow, too, but I cannot honestly promise you tomorrow, and I don’t dare to pretend with you. I know only that my desire in this moment is that my yes will grow, through your Grace, with each waking.

Is it okay if I trust you with tomorrow, and the days that follow? I hope so.

In fact, it’s my only hope,

Love,

Chris